His skin is warm on mine, igniting me everywhere he touches. I bite down on my lip, picturing solid brick walls, the steel of Aika’s swords, the iron gates around Mother’s estate, literally anything to serve as a barrier between his mind and mine.

His grimace tells me he knows what thoughts I’m shutting him out from, but his lack of chastisement tells me I’m succeeding. He repeats the process with my other leg, his touch just as perfunctory and removed.

Which is for the best.

Only when I am completely secure does he raise his eyes to meet mine.

“The marlins are intuitive, and yours will follow the lead of mine.”

I nod my affirmation, taking a moment to greet my fish while he mounts his. Napo swims up to settle in behind Ari, wrapping his tentacles around his shoulders and settling his body on top of the high-backed seat. If the massive man is unhappy about this arrangement, he at least hides it moderately well.

Not that I can blame him, having experienced Napo’s displeasure for myself. I think it’s more than that, though. Ari clearly has a soft spot for the octopus.

Before I can think too hard about it, we’re taking off at a lightning speed. My fish tilts side to side with the currents, spinning at wild angles and dipping rapidly with the changing waters. Now I understand the need for the straps, and the backing.

However Ari is directing his marlin, mine does, indeed, follow just behind, diving and darting through the water in perfect sync with its companion. The ocean passes by in a blur, an array of colors and lights and sea creatures we are moving far too fast for my eyes to linger on. The water whips through my hair, stinging my eyes if I keep them open for too long.

As it is, I have just enough time to duck out of the way of small fish or debris. I’m not complaining, though. It’s a convenient distraction from the torrent of questions that won’t let me rest.

From wondering how long the ghost of Ari’s fingertips will haunt me this time.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

MELODI

Time is difficult to gauge down here.

The sunlight filters through the layers of waves into a wan imitation of itself, and the glow from the sea creatures is hardly consistent. Between the hours we’ve been riding and the darkness falling around us, I hazard a guess that it’s close to sundown when a new sound hits my ears—my real ears, not just the part of my brain that has become accustomed to mind-speak.

It’s almost like…music. Enchanting and strange, unlike anything I’ve ever heard before, but melodic all the same.

“What is that?” I ask Ari, my neck craning in the direction of the sound.

He eyes me cautiously before answering. “The villagers are dancing.”

Dancing. A memory hits me.

I ask Zaina to play, hoping we can infuse the smallest bit of life into a day that has done nothing but rob us of it.

Hoping that if she remembers Rose, it might help to soften the jagged shards of ice that are slowly taking over her soul.

So she sits at the piano, her perfect face nearly as devoid of life as Mother’s victims were today. Aika stands behind her, taking her cue from our oldest sister even though she would never admit it. She throws herself into the song, playing her violin so violently, I think the bow might break.

And I lose myself in the music they create, trying to ignore the sinking feeling that permeates the air.

I have already lost one sister. How long until I lose the others? Aika is reckless and Zaina is drowning. One way or another, it seems that Mother will take them both from me.

But at least she’s gone tonight.

So, I swallow the pain building inside of me, throwing every part of myself into the dance. I ignore the memories of bloodshed. The threat that lingers over us like a constant shadow.

I pretend we’re on a different balcony, in a different tower, in a different world, far from the hold that Mother has on us all. Where we aren’t prisoners. Where we are free.

It is the only small rebellion I ever allow myself, this bit of happiness, of peace, when I know that Mother approves of neither.

I only wish I could grant some semblance of it to my sisters.

My chest aches at the memory and with the weight of missing them, but there’s something else there, too. Desire to feel that freedom again. How do the Mayima dance? Do they lose themselves the way that I do?