Page 17 of Of Songs and Silence

Over and over again. Soon, the crowd around us grows, more people muttering aboutKala.Kala,as they strain to get a closer look at me.

I try to fortify my shields, but it’s hard to focus when I feel the stares of so many faces, each of them focused on my eyes. I think back to the conversation before we left, Kane commenting that I wouldn’t be able to blend in. A suspicion is forming in my mind, one I am utterly unprepared for.

“We should go,” Ari says in an undertone.

“It won’t make a difference,” Kane responds in the same volume. “We knew word would spread, and we couldn’t very well make the whole trip away from the main currents.”

“Still—” But whatever Ari is going to say is cut off by the abrupt sound of deep, booming laughter, followed by a pained cry.

I notice the shadows first, the sharks looming above a cloud of red. They haven’t attacked yet. Perhaps they won’t, when Kane says that the Mayima have no natural predators. Except for the dragons, of course.

But I am not Mayiman—not entirely—and I have watched sharks just like these devour Mother’s victims greedily after she tosses their bloodsoaked bodies into the sea. Fear twists in my gut as the sleek gray shapes glide through the water with an unmistakable air of excitement, waiting and watching the scene unfold below them.

My gaze reluctantly travels there next.

A massive man in scaled armor holds a boy by his neck, his grip tightening as his grin widens. Rivulets of crimson stream out around them, and the boy’s arms and legs float at odd angles.

On closer inspection, he must be nearly my age. The fear in his eyes just makes him seem so much younger. My stomach churns, but I keep my features neutral, even as Ari edges in closer, subtly placing his body between mine and the soldier.

“Commander Ariihau,” the man greets, hitting his chest with his fist. It’s similar to the gesture the crowd gave us earlier, though more aggressive. “I didn’t realize you were here. The honor, of course, is yours.”

I don’t have time to react to the sound of Ari’s full name before the warrior swims closer, extending his victim to Ari like a prize to be had. The nearer they draw, the more my stomach curdles. The smell of blood weighs heavy in my senses, and close up, I can see the shards of bone that jut out from the boy's pallid skin.

The sharks follow like ravenous strays, their shadows swimming back and forth over our heads.

“There is no debt, Sergeant Nikau,” Ari says smoothly with a wave of his hand. “The prize is yours.”

Prize?

“What is the crime?” Kane asks casually, swimming around the two Mayima, drawing Nikau’s attention away from us. I don’t miss the careful way he avoids the boy’s eyes.

The warrior—Nikau grins widely, his attention turning back toward his victim. His fingers press further into his skin, causing a fresh river of blood to stream out from the wound on his neck.

“Sergeant Kane,” he greets with a nod. “Laki, here, is suspected of liaising with the rebels.”

The boy shakes his head as much as he can.

“No.” His words are loud, and it’s an effort not to flinch. “I didn’t know who they were—”

He doesn’t get a chance to finish the thought before Nikau breaks his neck in one swift motion, not even bothering to go for the silver trident on his back.

It’s only once he tosses the body away that the sharks descend. More like trained hounds than strays, then. Their massive bodies swim past us so fast that the current they leave in their wake nearly knocks me into a somersault.

That movement is what finally draws Nikau’s attention to my presence. His mouth drops open, the wordKalaforming in his mind like a question, before he dips into a bow so deep, I wonder ifhewill spin into a somersault.

“As you see, we have an important mission to tend to,” Ari says stiffly. “Tides guide you.”

Nikau nods, his wide, tangerine eyes still fixed on me as the Commander leads me away.

We swim silently for miles, all of us locked away in the privacy of our guarded thoughts. When we’re far enough away from the village, I finally find myself asking one of the hundreds of questions that are tangling in my mind.

“It’s not a name, is it? Kala?”

Ari’s face morphs into a thundercloud. He falters for a half second, his arm tensing where it’s wrapped around my waist.

“No, Kala,” he responds. “It isn’t.”

Then we are moving again, and the silence descends once more.

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