Page 117 of The Silent
“Why should we fear you?” he asked again,crouchingdown.
She wanted to speak, but the pounding wings of the Fallen exhausted her. He didn’t have wings. Not really. But enough of his sycophants thought him a god that he’d created them with his mind. Her own father had been the same. Tenasserim could manifest things withhismind.
Just like Prija could twist theshadow.
But she didn’t have a voice anymore. Using it was too exhausting. Killing her father had locked it inside. Because while she’d hated him with every part of her, she’d loved him in the same way. Killing him had been killing part of herself. That was what Sura and Niran neverunderstood.
She’d also died that day. She’d died withKanok.
A small gasp from themoonfacedgirl.
“He was your twin,” she said. “The brother who died. Kanok wasyourtwin.”
Prija closed her eyes again, but this time she couldn’t block out thewoman.
I know you understand me,she said. I have abrothertoo.
Prija’s eyesflewopen.
I have a twin. He is the other part of me.The woman’s eyes were full of tears.If he died, I might not want to liveeither.
Prija looked at thesunshineman.
Maybe for him,the woman said.Maybe I would live for him. Can you live for those who love you, Prija?The woman reached back and brought a backpack out. She opened the zippered case and drew out a black-and-red-stripedfabric.
Prija cocked her head. It was Intira’sweaving.
“Intira made this for you,” the scribe said. “She wanted Kyra to bring it to you. She said you’dunderstand.”
“She said”—Kyra spread out the weaving—“you’d understand what it meant. And that you had to come back for Intira to finish. That she wouldn’t finish unless youcameback.”
Stubborn, brilliant girl. Prija still didn’t see it. Shetried,but…
“Leo thinks it’s some kind of music,”Kyrasaid.
Music?
One of Prija’s old visions came to life. Stars across the sky. Scattered. Rising and falling voices andnotes.
Of course. Intira had taken her own stars and turned them into mathematics. Into geometry. It was how she saweverything.
Didsheknow?
How could she haveknown?
She couldn’t hear anymore, but if Prija couldreadthe music, she could kill Arindam the same way she’d killed herfather.
This time when she opened her mouth, she couldn’t stop thewords.
“Who showed herthissong?”
ChapterTwenty-Four
Kyra couldn’t speak Lao,but Leocould.
“Vasu,” he said. “At least that’s who we thinkshowedher.”
“I don’t know… Vasu.” Prija’s voice sounded like rustednails.
