Page 8 of Of Songs and Silence

I am silenced, just as Mother prefers me to be.

But also because he isn’t strictly wrong. The Mayima don’t look very different from us, but for their larger size and brightly colored hair and eyes. There are no scales or tails or visible gills. The differences lie in their skills. They’re stronger, faster, and, obviously, can breathe underwater.

My hair is bright red and my eyes are violet, both consistent with Mayiman coloring. I am, against all odds, breathing underwater. But I have never been particularly strong, nor fast.

As he said, I am too soft.

Something almost pained flashes across Ari’s perfect features, but it’s gone before I can read it.

Then his expression hardens, and he pulls back to cross his muscular arms over his broad chest. The gesture makes the winding tattoos on his bicep ripple in a way that is almost sentient, like tentacles writhing across his skin. Even the markings are beautiful, elegant in their intricacy.

A muscle in his jaw clenches, and for the first time, he looks away from me.

“You’re not silenced here.”

It takes me entirely too long to realize that he is more than perceptive. He is plucking thoughts directly from my mind.

He can hear me.

CHAPTERFIVE

MELODI

Athousand thoughts run through my mind, followed by a thousand more. I wrench my hand from Ari’s grasp.

“You can hear my thoughts?” I think the question at him, and he dips his head in assent.

“The way you’re shouting, the Mayima three villages over can probably hear your thoughts,” he muttered.

I level him with a look, and he arches an eyebrow to show what he thinks of that. But he explains.

“This is the way Mayima communicate. It's not so different from speaking, but instead of sound, it’s thoughts. Most people just know how to guard theirs.”

Suddenly I feel even more exposed than my thin, floating nightgown accounts for. Is it worse, having no way to communicate, or having him privy to every thought that crosses my mind?

A shudder wracks through me, and I cross my arms over my chest. Whether out of pity or self-preservation, he expounds.

“Think about it like there is a moveable barrier in your mind. Some thoughts can hide in the shadows, they can stay behind the barrier wall that is sealed in front of them. Those are the personal ones you don’t want to transmit.”

I nod to show I understand, though I’m not sure I do, entirely.

“Other times,” he goes on. “You can let the barrier down just a fraction. Just enough for small thoughts to escape. Those are like the whispers of the humans. Quiet enough that only the person next to you can hear.”

I take a moment to shield my thoughts, testing avolumethat just crosses the top of the barrier, like he said.

“Like this?” I try for a whisper.

He tilts his head to the side. “More or less.”

I struggle to recall the last time I had to make an effort at anything. Mine has been a life largely free of expectations. Even my sisters have only ever seen me as something to be protected, the baby of the family, the only one who wasn’t trained to fight. Before I can try again, Kane comes sauntering back with a smirk etched into his face.

Ari sighs, the sound echoing in the caverns of my mind, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Well you are back in record time,” he says, his brows knitting together as he glances around the large man. “Where’s Napo?”

“Probably terrorizing the village, still,” Kane answers so cheerfully, it’s impossible to determine whether he’s joking. “One might think you were trying to get rid of me, Cousin.”

Cousin?

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