Page 41 of Of Songs and Silence

A moment passes, charged like the air just before lightning strikes.

“Is that why you have decided to let me go?” she asks quietly, something like a challenge in her tone. “Because of my information?”

Something passes between them that I can’t quite read, a rare moment of real emotion flitting over the king’s features, more than offense, but not quite grief. His right hand goes to cover his left, an odd urgency in the movement.

The smallest corner of her mouth tilts up in a wan, bitter smile, and he scowls.

Then his expression clears, and he casually dismisses her with a wave of his hand. It would be casual, anyway, if we hadn’t all just witnessed their exchange. Not that anyone is brave enough to acknowledge it.

Natia eyes the king with unveiled disgust before turning to follow the guards out of the room.

Including Kane. There is no trace of the man who teased and joked on the way here. He reminds me of my sisters, trapped in a life of violence when he is capable of so much more.

My thoughts cut off as a strange sensation takes over me. It’s subtle at first—a shiver of cold. A whisper of touch along the walls of my mind. Goosebumps trail up my neck and over my scalp as tendrils of ice creep down my spine.

My pulse quickens, and I reinforce my shields once again. The gentle tug comes from the left, and I wonder if it’s my grandfather testing me, poking and prodding around in my head, trying to read my thoughts. But the pull comes from farther away, and I have a strong feeling that his touch would not be so benign.

I scan the long table, under the guise of reaching for my goblet, my gaze lingering on each face until I find the source. A face so familiar that it haunts my waking nightmares. Violet eyes stare back at me, into me… The resemblance is so striking that I am momentarily frozen in place.

She subtly dips her head before returning to her quiet conversation with the man at her side.

A cousin? A sister? Mother herself?

The possibilities run wild in my head, choking out all rational thought. Obviously, I know it’s not her. It can’t be. And she feels… Different. But still, I can only barely fight the urge to swim as far away as possible.

“What are you looking at, child?” Cepheus’ voice pulls my attention back to the moment.

“Apologies, Grandfather. I thought—” I trail off when he glances down the table, his lips pursing in response.

“I see,” he says, and I wonder if he does.

If he understands the fear that his daughter has instilled in her children. But of course he does. He is the monster who created the monster who raised me.

“Who is she?” I ask carefully, setting down my glass with trembling fingers.

“That is Danica,” he replies dismissively. “Your mother’s twin sister.”

CHAPTERTWENTY-FOUR

ARIIHAU

After breakfast, I escort Kala to the library for etiquette lessons with her aunt.

The fear was palpable when we first arrived, but after some brief conversation, the set of her shoulders is more relaxed, and her panic has eased. She’s still not comfortable with Kala’ni, but she’s not as afraid as she was before.

Danica isn’t her father. She isn’t cruel, though I wouldn’t consider her exactlykindeither. Her father keeps her alive because she offers no threat to him, quietly agreeing when he declares her unfit for marriage, accepting the honorific he mockingly placed on her name. ‘Ni is usually to denote a married woman, but Cepheus declared that she was as good as married for all that she was available.

The only reason she’s lived this long is because she keeps her head down, something I hope she can teach her niece to do.

I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to attack her here, so publicly, and I’ve made sure there were ample warnings to anyone who might consider it. So I should feel safe enough standing here, waiting for the inevitable arrival of my cousin. Still my jaw clenches, the muscles in my arms straining against the desire to move closer, the primal need to protect her.

Fortunately, Kane shows up only an hour after we arrive. His face is carved into a cold mask, even moreso than being back at the palace would normally account for. It’s easy to forget sometimes that he is several decades my senior, but today he seems to carry every one of those years on his shoulders.

“I need to request leave. It’s time for me to visit home,” he says without preamble.

“Your home in Bondé?” I ask, my low tone matching his.

There’s a subtle hint of sarcasm that only he will catch.

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