Page 33 of Of Songs and Silence

I dream of you, too.

At least I’m not crazy. Whatever it is between us is real and tangible. And dangerous, if Ari is to be believed.

“We’re nearly there.” He interrupts my thoughts, pointing toward a glimmering tower in the distance.

The palace.

“Remember what I said.” He doesn’t need to expound further.

I have been doing nothing but considering his warnings all morning.

He spurs his marlin forward, mine eagerly following. His bandage is gone, his injury no more than a thin, barely discernible line. The Mayiman medicines seem to work even better than Madame’s tonics.

As the palace grows larger, the capital city of Mayim unfolding before us, warring thoughts tangle in my mind, like shells in a fisherman’s net.

The streets are paved in brightly-colored stones, sparkling like polished gems that gleam and glitter as they wind toward the palace doors. The pearlescent city glows brightly, reflecting light from the bioluminescent plants and creatures that surround it.

But none of it compares to the breathtaking view of the palace itself.

I’m no stranger to opulence. Mother makes it into an artform, an obsession. What I didn’t see in our own homes, I glimpsed from afar through the carriage windows on the trip from the harbor to the estate in Bondé. Sprawling mansions and elaborate castles. Luxurious chateaus with stained glass windows.

Not one of those places holds a candle to the palace in front of me.

Situated atop a brightly colored-coral reef, nine perfectly spiraling towers yawn toward the surface of the water, stretching and growing more narrow the higher up they go. And each of them are gilded—as if they’ve been dipped in liquid gold. It’s the only color variation from the pearlescent walls coating the rest of the palace.

After the villages, I expected more noise. Maybe music. Crowded streets. In contrast, the capital looks almost abandoned.

The streets are silent, with impeccably manicured plant life. There is no garbage or debris. No loud voices. No children swimming around. Even the fish choose to swim around the city instead of through it. It’s as if the ocean itself bends around this place, afraid to make any sudden movements. Afraid of drawing attention to itself.

Dread pools low in my stomach as we inch closer. Ari leads us up the main road, capturing the attention of the sparse crowds. The ones dressed as warriors respond to him the same way so many did on the way here—by making a fist and pounding it against their chests.

Others, dip their heads in respect, their curious gazes studying me. I do my best to keep my head down, refusing to meet their eyes, since mine draw too much attention. It isn’t until we reach the palace gates that my attention snaps upward—toward the smell of death.

Floating near the doors, tethered only by chains holding them to the coral below, are cages. Each of them holds the body of a Mayima in various states of decay.

Two are nearly indistinguishable, barely more than bones. Spider crabs feast on what remains of their carcasses. Another cage is home to a fresh corpse, and the smell of death floating in the water around them is enough to make me gag.

And then my eyes land on the final cage. A woman with turquoise hair and lifeless silver eyes stares blankly ahead. Small silver fish gnaw at the place where one of her hands used to be. Green and purple bruises cover her beautiful golden brown skin, but that’s not even the worst part.

The worst part is the small twitching in her leg and the silent tears streaming out from her eyes that tell me she’s still alive.

It’s not worse than anything Mother has done, even than what I have witnessed before. I should have been prepared to see such savagery displayed in such a beautiful place.

But it never gets less horrifying, seeing the kinds of things one person is willing to inflict on another. Bile rises in my throat just as Ari’s voice sounds in my mind—an order and a reminder of what is to come.

“Walls,Kala.”

I secure them into place, forcing the image of the girl out of my mind. Forcing myself to remember that there is so much more at stake. That I can’t do anything for her.

After our pair of marlin are handed over to a waiting servant, Ari leads the way to our destination. He grows more distant and reserved the closer we draw to the palace.

It’s quieter inside the palace and fear permeates the water around us—a living, tangible thing. We swim through brightly lit corridors, passing the bowed heads of servants and haughty nobles and warriors.

Not one of them dares to think louder than a whisper, if at all. Ari is similarly guarded, so I make sure that I am, too. Finally, Ari brings us to an imposing circular door, guarded by two massive guards—scowls permanently etched into their expressions.

I want to lean in closer to Ari, but I know that is impossible now. I would have sensed it even if he hadn’t drilled it into my head.

Show no weakness in this place.

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