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Naia shrieked. “Malik, stop!”
Her brother inclined his head to look at her over his shoulder. A bolt of twisted light sparked in his eyes, goading her to give him a reason to get out his collection of butcher knives.
Without a word, Mira spun, the whisper of her silk dress grazing behind her like a pearl-colored cloud, as she transported away.
Father crossed the threshold of the palace doors, and a sense of helplessness consumed Naia. She pushed off her feet to sprint after him, arms outstretched, reaching for him as if she were a child again. “Father, no!”
In a charcoal puff, they vanished.
Naia’s bare feet padded through the puddles collecting on the cobblestone and she fell to her knees. Droplets of rain splattered on the tops of her shoulders, rolling down her scalp. Above her, the sea rumbled and shook to the sound of a whale calling out. The waves ruffled the kelp forest, their tall stalks reaching for the surface. Always growing towards the sunlight penetrating through the water.
Naia felt the absence of her father immediately, as if someone had reached down inside and tore out a piece of her heart.
She folded into herself, pressing her forehead to the rough exterior of the cobblestone.
A gut-wrenching wail ripped out of her throat. She was left with the memories—the light of his smile, always pulling her out of darkness; the soft touch of his fingers against her hand as he led her way.
I love you Naia, deeper than the earth.
She hugged Wren to her chest, the only thing she had left of her father.
A week passed, and during those seven days, Naia did not leave her bed.
Gianna trickled in and out like a mouse to clean her room and deliver her meals. Naia had no desire to eat.
Trapped inside her grief, time transformed seconds into what felt like days. Naia was convinced the agony would never end as she laid underneath the faint scent of lavender emanating from her linen bed cloth.
The succession of events remained fixed in her thoughts—the significance of the necklace, the unleashed fury of Mira, the tragic death of Alke, her desperate attempt to overpower Mira, and the involvement of her father. In the end, her decision to attack Mira was the reason he’d intervened. Because of her, her father was gone.
When Naia’s downward spiral wore out her thoughts, she surrendered to sleep.
Until a knock sounded on her door.
Gianna stepped up to Naia’s bedside. “Lady Naia, I know you are having a difficult time, but Lord Finnian has not returned to the palace in seven days.”
It was like a bucket of cold water dousing over Naia as she slung the blankets from her body.
Feeling disoriented, she blinked and realized she had neglected to check up on Finnian.
Her bare feet slapped on the cold floor, guilt reverberating in the swift beat of her pulse. Pacing through the palace and outside of the grounds, it was a fresh morning. A golden dawn.
The water hole. She knew Finnian would be there.
Naia trudged through the jungle, the sounds of buzzing insects and chirping birds grated her senses. It didn’t occur to her she’d run out of the palace without shoes until she stepped down on a sharp rock jutting out of the ground cover. The stickiness of the blood coating the bottom of her foot made her wince, but she paid no mind to the injury.
The minor pain had subsided by the time she emerged in front of the glittering pool of starlight.
Finnian was crouched down in the exact spot where Alke’s handmade cage used to be, his back to her.
Naia hesitated in her step. “Finny?”
“It was all my fault,” he mumbled. “I can fix it. I can make it better.”
Naia’s pulse pounded in her ears as she took a slow step forward. “Finnian?”
“I will make it better. I will fix it. I will bring them back.” He spoke in a hushed, slightly deranged manner. Words tumbling out in a jumble, lacking coherence.
She took another wary step, speaking a little louder. “Finny, what are you talking about?”
