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Summon them, her father once told her, and they will always come.
A deity’s true weakness was their curiosity. Her plan would work. There was a sureness in her gut telling her so. She just had to avoid getting caught.
If she did, Mira would punish her.
A Thousand Strikes.
The muscles in Naia’s back contracted. Scars that had healed centuries ago, but her body would never forget the agony of being struck by her own mother.
A cold sweat zapped down her spine. She paced across her bedchamber and unlatched the window—squirming her hips to hike the absurd amount of layers of her dress up her thighs and hoisted herself up over the ledge. Her bedroom window came out in a secluded corner of the courtyard, hidden by a row of shrubbery.
With the grace of a duck, she tripped over the ledge and landed on the cobblestone, letting out an unflattering grunt.
Naia dusted herself off and began down the path.
It was unfortunate she couldn’t take in the night. The air was thick with moisture and a floral fragrance. Above her, a swarm of jellyfish drifted across the shards of moonlight piercing through the layers of the sea. Their wispy tendrils fluttered leisurely in the water, giving off a warm light to the clouds of fish journeying through the lush stalks of the kelp forest visible on this side of Kaimana—Mira’s kingdom beneath the sea.
Voices sounded ahead with casual chatter. Naia cut into the garden, her squeaking footfalls in the sand drowned out by the blood whirring in her ears. Deities from all over saturated the palace grounds, and she needed to refrain from being seen.
Naia brushed past the bloomed hibiscus and beneath the canopy of yellow Angel’s trumpets, and raced across the bridge where the River of Souls flowed in. She could overhear the mortal whispers as their souls scurried down the current on their way to the Land of the Dead.
Her destination was the opposite side of the palace. The south wing, a perfect place to meet in secret.
The guards standing at the entrance acknowledged her with a look.
They all appeared the same to her in their loose, flowing white trousers, slick muscled chests, and golden chains dangling around their biceps.
Naia whisked by and said, “I was never here.”
They bowed their heads.
“Yes, Lady Naia.”
The wing was desolate, with no sign of life. Every corner of the wing loomed with dusky shadows that brought comfort. Closed in, hidden from the outside world of Kaimana. The wing belonged to her father long ago.
Naia stepped inside the dark library, greeted by the smell of dusty book covers and aged paper. Rows of bookshelves and the leather-bound settee rooted up memories of Naia’s childhood with her father. Hours spent with her nose hunched in a book as he taught her to read. The excitement in his eyes when he told her of the world beyond the sea dared her to dream.
One of Naia’s favorite pastimes was playing chess with him. She’d enjoyed watching the creases of concentration line his brow, paired with the way his hand lifted to his chin as he pondered his next move.
It had been centuries since she last saw him, but the ache in her heart was still fresh.
What would he think about what she was about to do?
Grant me some of your bravery, Father.
Naia inhaled a breath, gathering her courage, before entering the room. The outside lantern light shining through the windows illuminated it.
The name sat at the back of her throat.
She licked her lips, stalling.
Her fear was like ice in her veins. There could be another way…
You are running out of time.
Just say his name?—
“Lord Cassian, High God of Death and Curses.” It left her mouth in a hasty jumble. She exhaled and dropped her shoulders. “Come to me.”
