The Girl Who Would Not Speak
1131 Words
By the time they returned to the palace, Aria had learned three things.
First—Kael never seemed to tire.
He had carried her the entire climb back up the mountain as though she weighed nothing at all. Through winding stone paths, iron gates, endless staircases, and corridors large enough to swallow cathedrals, his breathing had never changed.
Second—everyone feared him.
The moment they entered the palace grounds, guards straightened so fast it looked painful. Servants lowered their heads. Warriors stepped aside without being asked. No one questioned why their king was carrying a furious, barefoot human girl through the front gates like stolen treasure.
No one even looked directly at her.
Third—
Silence could be sharper than screaming.
Aria had tested that all the way back.
Every time Kael spoke, she gave him nothing.
No answer.
No glance.
No reaction.
And each time, something in his expression tightened just enough to satisfy her.
He carried her through the main hall, where towering columns of black stone rose toward painted ceilings covered in moons and wolves. Pale daylight spilled through stained glass windows, painting the floor in silver patterns.
The palace was grand enough to be beautiful.
Cold enough to be cruel.
Kael climbed the staircase without slowing and pushed open the door to her room.
He set her gently on the bed.
Aria immediately stood.
The second her feet touched the floor, pain shot through her soles. She refused to show it.
Kael crouched before her.
She stepped back instantly.
His jaw flexed.
Then he rose and crossed to a table where a shallow silver basin waited. Steam curled from the water inside. Beside it lay clean cloths, ointments, bandages.
He had prepared this before bringing her back.
The thought unsettled her more than anger would have.
He turned toward her.
“Sit.”
She remained standing.
His gaze lowered to her bleeding feet.
“Aria.”
Nothing.
She crossed her arms.
A long pause stretched between them.
Then Kael did something unexpected.
He walked to the door, opened it, and said to someone outside, “Send Mira.”
He stepped out.
The door shut behind him.
Aria blinked.
That had worked?
A minute later, the door opened again.
A little girl entered carrying a tray almost too large for her arms.
She couldn’t have been older than eight. Dark curls framed a round face. Her enormous grey eyes studied Aria with open curiosity. She wore a blue dress with one ribbon untied and mismatched socks.
Behind her, two maids hovered nervously in the corridor.
The girl ignored them.
She marched inside, kicked the door shut with surprising force, and placed the tray on the table.
Then she planted both hands on her hips.
“You made my brother angry.”
Aria stared.
The child looked exactly like trouble.
The girl narrowed her eyes. “He only gets that face when someone wins.”
Against all reason, laughter almost escaped Aria.
Almost.
The child’s stern expression broke first. She grinned.
“I’m Mira.”
Aria hesitated.
The little girl tilted her head. “Are you broken?”
A sound slipped out before Aria could stop it.
A short, startled laugh.
Mira gasped dramatically. “You make sounds!”
Aria pressed her lips together, but the child had already bounced closer.
“You’re prettier when you’re alive,” Mira announced.
That was such an outrageous thing to say that Aria forgot grief for one impossible second.
“What does that even mean?” she heard herself ask.
The room went still.
The words had barely left her mouth when realization struck.
She had spoken.
Mira’s eyes widened with delight. “You can talk!”
Aria glanced sharply at the door.
No one entered.
Relief came so suddenly it made her knees weak.
Mira leaned closer and whispered loudly, “You don’t want him to hear, do you?”
Aria slowly shook her head.
The child considered this with grave seriousness.
Then she nodded once.
“Good. He deserves it.”
Aria stared.
Mira climbed onto the bed beside her like they had known each other for years.
“He’s scary,” the girl confided. “And bossy. And he says no to desserts.”
A pause.
“But he cried when our wolf died.”
Aria looked at her properly then.
There was no fear in Mira when she spoke of Kael. Only affection. Annoyed affection, but affection all the same.
That didn’t fit the monster in Aria’s mind.
She hated that.
Mira pointed at the basin. “Your feet are gross.”
Aria glanced down.
Blood had dried along her ankles. Cuts lined both soles.
Mira wrinkled her nose. “Sit. I’ll help.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” The girl rolled her eyes. “That’s what helping is.”
Aria sat slowly on the edge of the bed.
Mira dipped a cloth into the warm water and dabbed carefully at one foot. Her tiny hands were clumsy but gentle.
Something in Aria’s chest cracked.
Her mother used to fuss over the smallest injuries. Daniel used to tease her for dramatic reactions to paper cuts. Noah would have made fake funeral speeches for her wounded feet.
The memories hit so hard she turned away.
Mira noticed anyway.
“You miss them.”
It wasn’t a question.
Aria nodded once.
The child was quiet for a rare moment.
Then she placed the cloth aside and climbed into Aria’s lap without asking permission.
Small arms wrapped around her waist.
The hug was fierce and uncomplicated.
Aria froze.
Then, slowly, her arms lifted and held the girl back.
She did not cry.
She had no tears left.
A knock sounded at the door.
Mira groaned dramatically. “Go away.”
The door opened anyway.
Kael entered carrying a stack of papers. He stopped the moment he saw them.
Aria seated on the bed.
Mira in her lap.
Aria’s arms around his sister.
Something unreadable crossed his face.
Mira turned and shouted, “She talks!”
Aria’s heart stopped.
Kael’s gaze snapped to her.
The room tightened.
Mira pointed accusingly at Aria. “Not to you.”
Silence.
Then Mira added helpfully, “She asked what something meant.”
Kael said nothing.
He simply looked at Aria as if the entire world had narrowed to her mouth.
Aria met his gaze.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
Then she reached for the glass of water beside the bed, drank from it, and looked away as if he did not exist.
Mira burst into laughter.
Kael closed his eyes for one brief second.
When he opened them again, they were fixed on Aria with dangerous calm.
“Interesting,” he said softly.
Aria smiled without warmth.
And said nothing at all.
- Writer
