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He turned to leave, only to pause in his steps, and angle his head along the length of his shoulder. “I am sorry for hurting you, Naia. That was never my intention. I was prepared to intervene if Malik captured you. If it makes you feel any better, I chopped him to bits while he was paralyzed, and then let my ghouls feast on him.”
A surprised chirp slipped out of her, and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “That’s awful, Finnian.”
“It took him two days to regenerate completely and run home with his tail tucked between his legs. I doubt he will leave Kaimana for the foreseeable future,” Finnian said.
From behind, a breathy laugh left Ronin.
Finnian was rooting for her—in his own twisted way. Of all the years she’d lived, not once had anyone in their family, besides their father, ever put their love for her over their own pride and apologized.
“I will do what I can to help you.” Out of the corner of his eye, Finnian’s gaze locked onto hers. “I promise.”
He disappeared as soon as the vow left his lips, leaving her with nothing but a scarlet, shimmering tendril of smoke.
All remaining resentment towards Finnian vanished along with him. I forgive you. She hadn’t had the chance to say it, but it was like a boulder lifting off her.
Ronin’s chest pressed snug into her shoulder blades, and he kissed the side of her head.
She peered into the twinkling hue of the shadow her little brother left behind. “I’m counting on you, Finny,” she whispered.
33
ASH VALE
Naia fell easily into her pregnancy.
Every Sunday, she and Ronin stood in front of the distressed exterior of the Kahale cottage and Akane snapped a picture to document the growth of her belly.
During her first trimester, the smell of fish nauseated her, and she developed an obsessive craving for peanut butter. She also developed a new skill.
Every three weeks, Yuki would trim Ronin and Akane’s hair on the back patio. Naia would stand aside and watch, intrigued. When the servants in Kaimana trimmed her own strands, it was such a mundane thing Naia had never thought twice about, but now, she wished to learn. It was a desire born out of pride, for Ronin to depend on her in some way.
Yuki taught her with patience. Regardless of the nicks on his ears and accidentally trimming his length an inch too short, Ronin always told her she did a good job.
By the third month, Naia had confidently taken Yuki’s place. Ronin sat still as Naia maneuvered around him. The tips of her fingers occasionally grazed his nape; the back of her knuckles brushed his forehead. His intent gaze provoked a pleasureful heat in her bloodstream that hummed beneath her skin as she worked. She minded him no attention with a small curve to her lips, deeply concentrated as she measured the length of his bangs using her index finger.
Her second trimester was a time of slow rises out of bed; mixing pancake batter with sticky fingers; Ronin’s wandering hands and small kisses along the side of her neck; morning coffee with Avi and Yuki and listening to their bickering; walks into town with Akane and Theon, and colorful poké bowls and shaved ice piled with fruit; evening hikes, with Ronin trailing behind her, peering beyond the edge of the horizon as the sunrise split the sky like a tangerine.
She’d often catch glimpses of a large bird taking flight from a nearby tree branch or sitting atop an electric pole. While the creature was quick to make itself scarce, she recognized its dull blue feathers and watchful stare as Alke’s. It seemed, after all this time, the bird’s dead form still lingered at Finnian’s side.
One of her favorite things to do was sit in the living room with Theon, listening in pure fascination as Yuki, Akane, and Ronin spoke in their native language from the kitchen. They only did it when it was only the three of them, but it reminded her of Ronin’s ethnic background and the fact he was bilingual.
She was catching onto small words.
Yuki had strolled into the kitchen one morning and stubbed her toe on the chair. “Itai!” she shouted, and hobbled over to the counter to lean on.
Or, when they’d eaten dinner a few nights ago, Akane took a large bite of curry, and with a look of pure pleasure, said, “Umai!”
Naia wanted to educate herself and know everything about their culture, not only because of Ronin, but because she wanted to pass it along to their child.
But would they have a chance to teach any of it to him?
Naia became stuck on a sickly cycle with that thought haunting her mind.
Her worries would diminish after she reminded herself how deities—Marina—could not come for her while she was pregnant. For the time being, she was truly free, and it made her determined to stay mindful and present during the months of her pregnancy.
Then she’d wake up one morning, and her thoughts would stray too far into the future. Soon, her nine months would be over, dropping a silent clock in the back of her mind. It became a struggle to enjoy much of anything.
These were the times she sought solace on the internet, researching Ronin’s family culture, or the Kahale grimoires, immersing herself in the history of the Himura clan. Reclined in a chair in the corner of the room, Theon minded her no attention as he scrolled through his phone. Occasionally, she’d ask questions about her reading material. Did you know the Himura clan consisted of a hundred people? Did you know their ancestors created the Kahale name as an alias to hide their identity?
