Page 3 of Of Songs and Silence

She takes an exasperated breath, casually resting her head in her hand. “I see someone is feeling extra cheerful today.”

She isn’t wrong, but there isn’t much reason for cheer, either. Each mile we grow closer to the island, I grow increasingly aware that we have no plan, no real hope and just over two weeks left to make one. Not that our plan worked out well last time…

“They’ve probably arrived at the island by now,” I finally voice my concern, one I know we share.

We didn’t have a choice. Remy had to bury his parents, and we had to wait for the storms to slow down. More than that, we needed to prepare as well as we could to even have a chance—something I’m still not sure we have. It rankles, all the same.

Aika shrugs a slim shoulder, her nonchalance firmly locked back in place. “I mean, we can hope that their ship wrecked and the Mayima ate them.”

A small, reluctant smile appears on my lips. “I don’t think the Mayima eat people.”

“I said we can hope.”

The short-lived amusement dies away, and silence descends upon us once more. Worry fills the space between us as I try and fail not to think about every possible thing that could go wrong—all the things that have already happened.

My sister scans the tumultuous sea, the storm brewing in the distance, and I already know what she’s thinking.

We got away. Because of Aika, we got away from Madame. We survived.

But at what cost?

CHAPTERTWO

MELODI

The sea is calling me.

More than just the waves, I have begun to hear music. A song that grows stronger, louder with each passing day. It sounds like it’s begging me to come closer, to hurl myself into the depths that have only ever represented death to me.

Or perhaps I want to get a closer look at the beautiful Mayima who haunts my dreams each night, the one I have only caught sight of a handful of times.

Sometimes I wonder if he’s even real, or just another figment of my imagination. Another bit of proof of my fractured sanity.

Maybe I made him up, formed him from some desperate part of me that misses my sisters so much that I have created someone to fill the lonely, empty hours.

Someone,anyoneother than Damian.

A knock at the door pulls my attention away just long enough for the melody to fade away again. Already, I mourn its loss, but I clear my expression of any emotion.

I don’t need to turn around to see who is at the door. Only one person visits this late at night. Only one person bothers to knock just to enter without waiting for a response. A play at courtesy, at respect for the boundaries he will never truly grant me.

The sound of the door clicking back into place echoes through the caverns of my mind as the lingering scent of blood and whiskey fills the air.

Damian.

He quietly approaches my spot near the window, his breaths steady and even until he’s standing right behind me.

“Melodi.” He says my name as he exhales, and I resist the urge to shudder.

Calloused hands catch in my red curls, before a knuckle glides along my spine. The night air is already sticky and hot, but it’s nothing compared to Damian’s scalding breath on my neck.

My stomach churns, and I try to focus on the ocean’s song as it recedes into the recesses of my mind.

No,I beg.Don’t leave me alone with him.

It ignores me, abandoning me to my fate.

Unable to handle the whispers of breath against my skin any longer, I turn to face him. It’s not much better. I should be used to this. This cruel future yawning before me in the form of a torturer. Murderer. Sadist.

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