Page 12 of The Silent
Alyah had stopped to let a group of tourists cross the road, but she didn’t move forward again until a waiting driver honkedbehindher.
“Alyah?”
“I’ve heard the rumors,” she said. “We received the mandate after the Battle of Vienna like everyone else. ‘Scribe houses are charged to find and protect any female offspring of the Fallen who seek shelter or succor from their sires.’ I readit,but…”
“You don’t reallybelieveit?”
Her chin went up. “I’ve never seen one. I’ve been a warrior for over one hundred years, and I’ve never seen a femaleGrigori.”
Leo said quietly, “Probably because most of them arekilled.”
Alyah’s jaw tightened as she left the parking lot and maneuvered throughtraffic. “Why?”
“They call themselveskareshta,” Leo said. “The silent ones. Only the ones who learn to be silent survive to adulthood.” It was a sad litany he’d repeated many times in the previous two years. “And they are killed for three primary reasons. First, they serve no purpose for the Fallen because the Fallen will not use them as fighters. Second, they are considered a threat because their magic is uncontrolled. And third, they don’t instinctively hunt humans as Grigori do. So they arekilled.”
Alyah steered the car onto the highway, joining the late-afternoon rush of commuters filling the roads. “I have morequestions.”
“Wealldo.”
* * *
Rekaves, CzechRepublic
One yearearlier
Leo watchedher glide across the courtyard of the castle, nodding at the solemn guard before she climbed the staircase to the walkway along the eastern wall. She spoke to no one, and no one seemed to bother her. There was an air of aloofness that surrounded her. It wasn’t anything she intentionally projected, but it was as clear to others as her dark hair, luminous skin, and crystallinegoldeyes.
Kyra wasother.
Leo’s heart achedforher.
His body ached too, but he was ignoring that for the moment. She was so alone. He’d hoped, after the Battle of Vienna, that she would find her freedom. Hoped that she’d break free of the shell she’d been forced into for survival as his watcher’s mate, Ava, had done. He wanted her to explore the heart of who she was and who she wanted to be, but all evidence pointed to her still residing in a self-imposedprison.
His feet followed her steps, up the stairs and along the top ofthewall.
It was none of hisbusiness.
He’d told himself that formonths.
She was none of hisconcern.
He’d written letters to her, in the care of her brother, which was the only address he had. They’d all been returned unopened. After the third one, Kostas had called Leo’s watcher and told him todesist.
Kyra was none of his business. Which didn’t stop Leo from desperately wishingshewas.
When he came upon her, the blue dawn light was fading into grey. Kyra was standing at the wall, looking out over the hills where the sun would break free. Leo didn’t try to remain quiet. He didn’t want to startle her, but he’d seen no other opportunity to talk to her alone. She went still for a moment, cocked her head slightly in his direction, then turned her head back to thehorizon.
Knowing she’d heard his inner voice and accepted his presence twisted something in Leo’schest.
“You make the voicesgoaway.”
She’d said it to him the first time they touched, and he wanted more. How? Why? What did it mean? He itched to reach out and embrace her, wrap his arms around her shoulders and bend to inhale the skin at her neck. He wanted to slide his hands down her sides so his arms could encircle her waist. He wanted to enfold her in his warmth, because she looked so cold. Soalone.
He didn’t. The only contact she’d ever allowed was when she’d been in true mental distress. He wondered if his presence brought back those memories. Hehopednot.
“I like the sunrise,” she said. It was nearly a whisper, as if she was sharing asecret.
He kept hisdistance. “Why?”
