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A warping hiss sounded. Marina’s figure dissolved into a chiffon shadow.
A billowing ebony form came at Naia from the right. Wren whipped past her hair and punctured through the nightrazer’s core before it could touch her. The creature roared. Slices of light pierced through its whirring black body and exploded.
Marina’s blurred figure reappeared. Naia threw her elbow back, connecting with Marina’s temple. Her sister grunted and disappeared into fluttering strands of smoke again.
A black mass draped over Naia like a wool blanket, smothering her senses.
The sound of the stream and the fragrance of the orchids and plumeria on either side of the bridge muffled. Naia’s racing heart palpitated, and she lifted her trembling hands and blinked, trying to see through the thick shroud of darkness.
I’ll suffocate. She’ll drag me back. What was I thinking?—
No.
Marina’s wickedness could not kill her. You are a goddess, too.
Through the broad walls of the abyss, Naia picked up on the faint hissing of Wren flying through the garden, cutting down nightrazers.
Without her ability to see, Naia needed to draw Marina out.
“What is your plan?” Naia taunted. “Blind me until I give in?”
Naia stepped to the left, extending her arm. The railing had to be nearby.
When Marina did not respond, Naia tried again. “Mother does not deserve for her curse to be broken?—”
Marina’s forearm crushed into Naia’s windpipe. “Do not be disrespectful.”
Naia coughed as her tailbone smashed the rail of the bridge. She gripped its edges, her fingers straining against the wood.
“Wren and I will escape,” she croaked. “No matter what.”
A glower cracked through Marina’s vacant expression—proof Naia had nipped a nerve. “Father only gave you his relic because you are weak.”
Wren emerged from the dome of darkness encasing over their heads. It was like watching a fly buzzing through the air as the metal edge of Wren’s wing slit across Marina’s jugular.
Naia winced at the painful sound of her sister’s skin tearing open.
Blood gushed like spilled wine over Marina’s collarbones and down the front of her gown. The copper scent invaded Naia’s nostrils and a violent dizzy spell caused her vision to tunnel. She breathed in through her mouth and pushed aside the tingling in her cheeks, refocusing on the matter at hand.
Ever since she was a little girl, she detested blood.
Marina swayed, seeking purchase on the railing. Rasps spluttered from her mouth. Her other hand came up and pressed to her wound.
She would heal in a short time, but it gave Naia the opportunity she needed.
As she turned away from Marina, a pang of guilt caught up with her.
Naia was never fond of violence. Although Marina probably deserved it, Naia didn’t hold enough hatred in her heart to feel satisfied by hurting her. Hatred implied Naia craved to make her sister suffer, which was not the case at all.
The dream Naia harbored in her childhood to be more than the estranged sisters they were sat in a pyre. After the unforgivable act Marina had committed, Naia didn’t mind letting her ignorant hope burn.
The cloak of night suffocating around them thinned.
“Lady Mira! In the garden!” a guard shouted. More voices carried from the palace.
An echo of footfalls thudded along the cobblestone.
Backing away, Naia raised her arm over her head. “Wren, come!”
