Page 41 of Song of the Abyss

“Because now we have you.” Her eyes flicked from his, down to his lips, then back up again. “Now we have you, and I think you want to destroy that city just as much as I do. Am I right?”

“If you want to kill your father, kalon, then I will help you kill him.”

“My name is Anya,” she corrected.

“I know.” He forced himself to push away from her, to give them both space to breathe when all he wanted was to taste her again. He wanted to know what every part of her tasted like.

Daios wanted to drag her into the water and taste her through his sensitive gills. But he couldn’t. Shouldn’t. Didn’t need to, because all of this was just the insanity in his head telling him to do something that would lead to the most destruction.

Slipping into the water, he left her behind before he could do something insane. Like lick her from head to toe.

16

Anya

She dreamt she was back in Alpha. Stuck in her room, just like she always was. The walls were warped though, and it felt like everything was melting into her. Hot, molten drops that clung to her hair and skin, pinning her in place until she couldn’t breathe.

The dream shifted, warping, so she found herself walking through the streets of Alpha and everyone was looking at her. Staring. Talking. In her mind, she knew they were wondering where she had gotten off to. Clearly there was something wrong with the General’s daughter if she was able to disappear for days on end.

But even in her dreams, she couldn’t hear them speak. It was just the low rumble of nothingness that, no matter how hard she tried to hear, she couldn’t understand.

Walking through a crowd with no understanding of what they were saying was a dangerous game to play in this place. It felt like they were all plotting against her. They wanted her out of their city, no longer their problem after all she had done. What kind of person plotted to destroy her home? She’d always been a problem, anyway.

In her dream, she walked through the streets and knew that everyone didn’t want her there. They wanted a figurehead like her mother. They’d wanted the pretty little bird, caught in her cage, a creature who sang when they told her to.

Everyone wanted the golden child of the General who soaked up all their love and attention and told them in not so many words that she appreciated them. They wanted her to fawn over their generosity and allow them to play with the pretty doll she’d become.

But that wasn’t what she wanted. Even as a child, she found their attention to be uncomfortable. She hated how they looked at her like she was a pet for them to indulge with treats and a soft pat to her head.

She was more than that. She’d always been more than that.

Her father approached her, a disappointed expression on his face. But when had he looked at her with anything else?

“Your mother would have been better suited,” he said, and she could hear what he was saying. Of all the voices she’d forgotten, the sound of her father’s was never one of them. Because he’d said these words before she lost her hearing. He’d said them right before she was the stupid one who had harmed herself so badly that he would never look at her the same way again.

And then, suddenly, she was back in that memory. The worst memory she ever had.

She was so much smaller, standing in front of the door that led to the armory where her father kept all the weapons. He stared down at her and repeated the words that had cut her to the core.

“Your mother would have been better suited,” he said, his face creasing in a deep frown that made him appear so much more severe. Every time. “She would have known that even speaking about the undines in public was a foolish move. You have never failed to disappoint me, girl, and that’s not something you should be proud of.”

She wasn’t. But he’d never made her feel proud of herself.

Anya flinched in on herself, rounding her shoulders as his hand lifted. He was going to hit her, like he always did. A sharp slap across her cheek, and no one ever mentioned that there were red marks every time they saw her. They just looked at the General and knew, with blind faith, that he would do whatever it took to keep them safe.

Even hit his own daughter.

The pain didn’t come. Instead, the door to the armory opened and a young man froze in the entry way. He looked between her and her father, and she saw the pity on his face. She knew it was meant for her, and that stung so much more than she had expected.

He was handsome. Young. He had broad shoulders and a sharp jaw that she’d always found so attractive. In another circumstance, she might have cocked her teenaged hip and hoped she didn’t look like a little tumble weed who had yet to grow into her body.

“Sir?” he’d asked. And oh, she hadn’t thought about his voice in such a long time. It was so buttery smooth. The voice of a man who could sing and she would have been captivated by the sound of his words.

“Yes, yes,” her father grumbled, leading them into the armory. “Don’t touch anything, Anya. For once, keep your hands to yourself.”

She’d curved even more into her body with embarrassment. Anya didn’t want that young man to think she was a burden on her father. She didn’t try to disappoint anyone, but sometimes she was curious and she didn’t think that was such a bad thing. Curiosity made her want to see more things. To believe that she was more than just a doll for her father to set up in a corner and for other people to look at.

But then she’d seen it.

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