Before She Ignites (Fallen Isles Trilogy #1)(26)

“Yes.”

“First letter.” He tapped twice: short, long.

I repeated. That wasn’t so bad.

But he quickly moved on to the next letter, and then the one after that, and through the entire alphabet. I struggled to mimic him, to make my letters just like his, but there were so many to remember.

Still, the one thing my counting habit had given me was a fair memory for numbers. Not adding or subtracting them, but I knew there’d been fifty fishing boats out the day my life changed, fifteen columns in Lex’s cave, and fourteen total noorestones in this cellblock. I could remember what I counted.

“Now,” Aaru said, once we’d been through every letter five times. “I say a letter, you tap it.”

“Are you sure?” I frowned. This was moving awfully fast.

“Am sure.” Without giving me a chance to ready myself, he began naming letters randomly.

I searched my mind for the appropriate combination of taps and drags. It was harder than just going through the alphabet, and he didn’t bother to tell me whether I answered correctly, but at least he wasn’t criticizing my every move.

Still, it was only a matter of time before he realized what a failure of a student I was.

“Moving on,” he said.

“Already?” Didn’t he believe in breaks?

“Common words and phrases,” he said. “Yes, no, I don’t know—those get shortened. First letters usually.”

That actually made sense. “All right. But what if phrases have the same first letters?”

“Context.” Like that had been obvious.

This was more complicated than I’d expected, though I should have known when he’d called it a language. Two years ago, Mother had enrolled me in an Ancient Isles language class, but had been forced to pull me out the first day when I’d shown no talent.

Just remembering her disappointment made the shame burn through me again. The last thing I wanted was to shatter this tentative alliance with Aaru because I wasn’t smart enough. I had to get out of this. “I was wrong about being able to learn the quiet code. I’m just wasting your time.”

“Prison, Mira. I have time.” He turned onto his side, blocking most of the light as he faced me. Even in the near darkness, there was something gentle about the look in his eyes. “You can do this.”

His encouragement made everything worse. “That’s quite the declaration from someone who doesn’t know me at all.”

He drummed his fingers on the floor, just once. Like a faint chuckle. “Will prove it. Tap the letters.”

“All of them?”

Four taps: one long, one short, two longs. ::Yes.::

Slowly, with long pauses between each letter, I tapped the alphabet onto the floor.

“Now Mira,” he said.

“Now Mira what?”

“Tap your name.”

My whole face felt like it was on fire as, even more slowly, I tapped out my name. ::Mira.::

“Yes,” he whispered. “Want a challenge?”

As if this whole thing hadn’t been a challenge. “All right.”

He rolled onto his back again. There was just enough light that I caught the way his mouth lifted in the corner. “Islands.”

“The islands? All of them?”

“All seven,” he confirmed.

Which meant he wouldn’t let me count Darina and Damyan as one. That was a lot of tapping.

When I didn’t start right away, Aaru said, “And attributes.”

I hadn’t registered the knot of anxiety fading, but it slammed back into my chest like a punch. My hands twitched, and my face and neck burned, and my heart raced so, so fast. Aaru was trying to shame me. To show me how awful I was at his quiet code. This was my own fault. I should have known better than to think I might be able to learn something so complicated.

“Mira?”

I didn’t remember pulling back and curling my whole body into a ball, but I must have at some point. My head pounded as I looked up.

Aaru peered through the hole, his fingers bent over the sides. He was so close to the wall, blocking the light. Only the whites of his eyes showed. “What’s wrong?”

“I can’t do this. I’m not smart enough.”

He studied me while my heart pounded in my ears. Loud gongs only I could hear. This was humiliating. Here I was in prison, curled up on the floor under my bed, and making a fool of myself in front of some boy who’d taught his little sisters the quiet code but couldn’t teach me.

“Islands, Mira.”

“I—”

“Mira.”

And now I was frustrating him. How wonderful.

A giant hole opened inside me. If only I could fold up and fall in.

“Mira.” He didn’t leave room for argument.

I could hardly breathe around the panic building. How was I supposed to focus enough to tap all those letters? But it would be dark soon. And the screaming man would scream. And Aaru wouldn’t be able to hear if I finished the islands and their attributes or not.

I pressed my palm to the floor, imagining I could push all the small jerks and twitches of panic into the stone. Out of me. Away from me. One breath. Two breaths. Three.

“All right.” My voice was ragged and hollow. “I’ll try.”