Page 108 of Destiny of a King

Dravic’s arm tightened around her. “My mum was Ravina of Northland,” he repeated more slowly, as if saying what he knew aloud might help him discover what he did not. “But who was Ravina?”

Adira closed her eyes.

She heard every word.

Dravic slept soundly beside her, his arm draped heavily around her waist, holding her close even in sleep.

Adira did not. She doubted she could have slept if she tried. Too much had happened. Too much was happening. She lay quietly within the circle of his arm and listened. That alone amazed her.

The cottage was no longer completely silent.

The fire burned low, yet every so often she caught a faint sound from the hearth. A snap. A soft crackle. Sounds she had never known belonged to fire.

She heard the wind as well. At least, she thought it was the wind. A low sound that came and went beyond the cottage walls.

Then there was Dravic. His breathing.

Adira’s heart swelled. She turned her head slightly on the pillow and looked at him.

She had heard his voice tonight.

Not simply a word here and there. She had heard sentences. She had listened to him talk about his mum and understood much of what he said. Toward the end, his words had grown clearer, the silence seeming to retreat farther and farther from them.

Would it continue?

The thought brought excitement rushing through her all over again. What if she woke tomorrow and could hear even more? What if one day the silence disappeared completely?

Her excitement faltered. Or what if she woke tomorrow and it was gone?

Adira swallowed the sudden disappointment that thought brought. That was why she could tell no one. Not yet.

She did not understand what was happening or why. She had lived without sound for as long as she could remember, and now, without warning, it was returning to her.

Returning.

The word troubled her. Could something return, if she had never possessed it?

She pushed the thought aside. There were already too many questions she could not answer.

Another came quickly enough.

If she could hear again, could she one day speak?

Adira stared into the darkness. She knew how words looked written on a page. She knew how mouths moved when people spoke them. But she had no idea what her own voice sounded like.

Did she even have one?

She almost smiled at the foolish thought. Of course she must. She simply had never learned how to use it.

But if she could hear…

Hope rose so swiftly that she forced it down.

Nay, she would not do that to herself. She would not build dreams upon something she did not understand. She would wait, listen, and see what happened.

And most importantly, tell no one. Not even Dravic.

Her gaze returned to him. Moonlight slipping through the small window left enough light for her to make out his face. He looked different asleep. The hardness that so often settled there was gone. No scowl. No impatience. No king staring back at a world he expected to obey him.