The Silent(4)

Niran narrowed his eyes. “Do you feel unsafe with me?”

“No, but you wouldn’t attack one of our kind, would you?”

“Wouldn’t I?” Niran said quietly. He held out a hand. “Touch me. Feel my energy. See for yourself.”

Kyra was surprised to find herself hesitating. It was just a hand. He was just another angelic bastard like herself. She reached out and took it. Immediately, Niran’s fingers closed around her palm. Her first impulse was to pull away from the presumptuous hand, but she relaxed into his touch when she felt the nervous energy built up over hours of travel leave her body and flow into Niran like water releasing from a dam.

Kyra let out a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding.

“Better?” Niran asked quietly.

“Yes.”

“How do I feel?”

She poked at the emotions she sensed from him. “You feel… steady. Calm.”

He released her hand to grab the wheel and steer the car across a shallow stream. “You feel powerful.”

She watched him, but his eyes remained on the road.

“I’m not a warrior like Sirius.”

“There are many kinds of power,” Niran said. “It is a foolish man who thinks physical strength is a substitute for mental discipline.” He smiled a little. “I am not a foolish man.”

“That’s good.”

“Can you truly teach my sisters how to make their minds safe from humans?”

“I think so,” Kyra said. “Their father is dead? You’re sure of it?”

“I am.”

“How are you sure?” Kyra had thought her own father was dead for decades, only to find out he’d been in hiding with help from his allies. The knowledge that she’d been living in false freedom had been devastating.

“I know my father is dead because my brothers and I killed him,” Niran said quietly. “We killed him with our sisters’ help.”



The temple where Niran took her was hidden in the hills northeast of Chiang Mai, surrounded by lush green forests of bamboo and fat-bottomed trees covered in moss. Sunlight filtered in where the road and courtyard had been cleared. Ferns and orchids covered the leaf-strewn forest floor, competing with sprawling roots for space.

The temple was the first human structure to meet her eyes, its grey steps ancient but neat and in good repair. Though the temple didn’t have the lustrous gold-covered statues and brilliant painted columns of the wats she’d seen in her research, this place hummed with power.

She could feel the energy contained within the humble structure as she stepped out of the car. Stone dragons flowed down either side of the stairs, and potted palms dotted the courtyard in front of bungalows surrounding the central structure. The houses were simple stilted buildings. Dark, varnished railings lined the front of each one with flowers flowing from window boxes and hanging baskets. Orchids clung to tree trunks, and the air was filled with the scent of fragrant flowers and the chirp of birds.

“Welcome,” Niran said, walking to the back of the truck to grab her suitcase. “I’m sure you’ll want time to wash and rest. A house has been prepared for you. It’s not modern—”

“I’m not modern,” Kyra said. She couldn’t stop turning to take in the forest around her. It was so quiet, yet so full of life. “Are there animals here?”

“Birds. A few deer. Pigs sometimes. Nothing dangerous.”

“Snakes?”

Niran smiled. “There are always snakes. And bugs. I hope you’re not afraid of them.”

“No more than is sensible.” She walked toward a fountain in the center of the courtyard and trailed her finger in the water, watching the shy goldfish dart away. “Plumbing?”

“We have a very nice bathhouse—men on one side, women on the other. We share that, but your room will have a pitcher and sink. You can refill at any of the fountains. The water is from a spring here, and it’s very good. We eat together in the evenings unless…”

Kyra said, “Unless there is conflict. Then some of your sisters will want to be alone.”

“Yes.” Niran appeared relieved. “You do understand.”

“I’m no different than they are.”

Niran stepped closer. “But you are. When I first saw you at the airport, I didn’t really believe that you were one of us even though Sirius had sent your picture. You didn’t appear to be in pain or cringing from people. When the cab drivers shouted at you, you simply walked away.”

“I couldn’t always do that. I used to hide from the world just like they do.”

Niran’s eyes shone. “My youngest sister, she reads books on mathematics that are beyond my comprehension. Her mind is beautiful and brilliant. She could do so much, but even going into the nearest village gives her seizures. Another sister is an artist so gifted she should study with masters. She has a gentle spirit and weaves the most intricate tapestries, but she cannot be around people without wanting to hurt them. We have a sister as fierce as any warrior in battle. She has tried to fight but cannot concentrate on her opponent. Anytime she is touched by a human—”

“The voices only get worse,” Kyra said. “I know all this. And you have to realize, this life I have”—she motioned to her suitcase—“this ability to travel, to be part of the world around me, it is very recent. Two years ago I was as sheltered as they are. My hearing is so acute that my own twin would have to leave me at times because when we’re together, my hearing amplifies.”

“Some would find a use for that.” Niran frowned. “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

“I’m not offended.” She wasn’t. Exactly. But there was some uncomfortable emotion that pushed at the back of her throat and caused her heart to race.

“But this new magic the Irin taught you—”

“It’s not new. It is ancient.” Kyra’s voice rose. “It is what we should have been taught for generations. What we should have learned from our fathers if they had any care for us.”

Niran stepped closer. “Did your father harm you?”

Had he harmed her?

Kyra’s throat tightened. She wanted to scream. Wanted to rage. She didn’t allow herself.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’m over two hundred years old,” she said carefully. “Far older than most of our kind. Now that my brother has severed his ties to the Fallen, he and I will die. They have no reason to give us the magic that could keep us alive. I live on borrowed time, Niran. I lived two hundred years as a prisoner, and just as I am tasting freedom, my life begins to wane.”

Niran’s eyes flashed, but he did not speak.

“I want to do something important before I die.” Kyra looked into the trees and saw the shadow of simple houses hidden in the brush. Windows, like dark eyes, looked back through the forest. She could feel their eyes. Sense their curiosity. She was being watched. “I don’t need to rest. Give me a moment to wash, and then I want to meet your sisters. I can help them.” She’d never felt so sure of herself. “I know I can.”



The girl was no more than thirteen. Her hair was straight, black, and chopped short to frame a round, pale face. She didn’t spend much time in the sun. Her full, round lips pursed for a moment before she let out a long sigh and relaxed into Kyra’s arms. Her eyes were closed and her cheek rested on Kyra’s leg as she sang along quietly with the song the kareshta was teaching her.

“Emetsam tarrea me. Kul-me shayen ya-ohme.” Kyra sang the spell to a playful tune, exactly the way Ava had taught her.

Shut the door in my mind. Give me peace this day.

It was the simplest of tunes, and the spell only lasted for a few hours, but it was enough to get some rest. Enough to silence the worst of the voices. Plus it worked quickly. It was the first spell Ava had taught her, and the one Kyra started all kareshta with. More complex shield spells could come later.

To begin? Peace.

The girl named Intira breathed out in one long exhale and fell into a deep sleep. Kyra sang over her for a few more minutes, then she eased the girl’s head onto the pillow near her leg and moved away. This was the youngest of Niran’s sisters. The one whose birth, Niran told her, had given them the final push to break free from their angelic sire no matter what the cost.

As Kyra rose and looked around the room, she felt profound wonder. Complex equations, the likes of which Kyra had never understood, covered the walls of the room. White plaster covered by black charcoal pencil marks, as complex and beautiful as the intricate tattoos that covered Niran’s arms. She looked at the neat stacks of books sitting by the girl’s pallet and the rolls of paper she used to write even more equations. A star map covered one wall, and a telescope perched delicately in the corner. Constellations were drawn around the windows.

Niran watched the girl as she slept, disbelief battling with wonder in his expression.

“How long will it last?” he asked, staring at his sister.

Kyra nodded toward the door and walked out, slipping on her shoes before she walked down the wooden stairs to the gravel path linking the forest houses.

“That spell lasts only few hours,” she said softly when Niran joined her.