Page 133 of Storm Caller

I swallow a thick knot that’s tinged with the bitter edge of regret. “I guess not.”

We both pause before I ask, “And General Sol? Why did you tell her about me?”

“Because I began to suspect there was something else happening with you. I noticed that you’d get all jumpy when the storms came. I knew you’d leave the city. That never happened with Raine. It felt like she was the only one I could trust.

“At first, she admitted to nothing, just asked me to keep an eye on you. It wasn’t until later that she began coming to me with more questions. Eventually, I guessed she was keeping a secret and that you might be, too. She confessed what she is, what you are, and that she might eventually need your help. She isn’t going to live forever, and without a Storm Caller to protect and power the city, New Manhattan will begin to crumble. I always knew she was important, but I never really understood just how much until then.”

He shakes his head, falling silent.

“Does Mom know?” I ask. “About any of this?”

His jaw tenses. “She suspects several things, but I’ve told her not to ask questions for your safety and hers. It’s better if she doesn’t know too much. It would make her too vulnerable.”

“To whom?”

“The chancellors,” he says. “If they knew what you were, you’d be dead. And I would be, too. If your mother remains in the dark, it might protect her, but honestly, I’m not even sure about that.”

“They’re lying to us,” I whisper, and he looks at me, his gaze sharp as a knife, glinting in the murky dark.

“You can never say that again,” he says.

“Why not? They lied about the Tiera Frais and the Veil. They lied about us being the only ones left. They lied about—” I cut myself off before mentioning the cure. I don’t know if I can trust him with this. Has Sol shared all her secrets?

“They’re lying about Keepers,” I say instead. “They’re detaining people at random. Most of them aren’t infected, and they aren’t guilty of hurting anyone.”

My father nods. “You’re right.”

His tone suggests there’s more he isn’t saying.

My eyes narrow. “Do you know something about the murders?”

His gaze jumps to mine, and he pauses before he shakes his head. “No. Of course not.” Then he looks away, and I’m sure that he’s lying. “By accusing whomever they see fit, everyone is either looking over their shoulder or pointing fingers at their neighbor.”

He says it all with such weariness that I’m taken aback.

Who is this man I was so sure I knew?

“Why are you saying this?” I ask.

“Because you’ve lived in fear your entire life. Forced to keep a secret based on something you had no control over. I guess I never really understood how that must feel until my children became a target.”

“So you only started caring when it affected you?” I ask.

“Yes.”

I huff out a breath and shake my head.

“That’s what I meant when I said you’re different from me, Poet. You would have cared anyway, wouldn’t you? That’s why you refused to kill that man during your initiation. I designed that test to push you. I desperately needed to see if you would push back.”

“I suspected that was the case,” I whisper, tears burning in my eyes. “All those people died so you could prove a point to me? Or to yourself?”

He offers me a hard look. “You’ve always understood who I am. I have to keep this city safe, and that means making difficult decisions. I don’t suffer from regrets.”

I stare at my father. Of course I’ve always understood.

No one understands that as well as I do.

The man who raised me has always been exactly who he is.