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Naia pursed her lips, hiding her smile behind the rim of her steaming mug.
“What’s your plan?” Theon asked, his tone short.
A somber expression replaced the humor on Ronin’s face as he looked to Naia with contemptuous disapproval.
His nostrils flared as he folded his arms. “We’re going to see Finnian.”
When she’d first brought it up, Ronin shot her down without hesitation.
Lying in bed, their heartbeats regulating back to normal, she’d proposed the idea.
“Fuck no,” he’d grumbled.
She sat up. “It’s the only way.”
In the end, Ronin agreed to go along with whatever she thought was best.
“If he tries anything, I’m putting him down.” Was Ronin’s only condition.
The next day, Ronin ordered Noah to send the message to Runa—a leader of an organization under Finnian.
A week later, Ronin and Naia stood outside the Kahale residence behind the barrier spell surrounding the property.
That was the other condition—under no circumstances was Naia to step outside of the barrier.
The others were inside, and Naia could only imagine them peeping out the windows, prepared to act at the first sign of suspicious behavior.
Naia’s pulse drummed in her throat as she peered into the thick shadows of the tree line, awaiting Finnian’s arrival. She was disgusted by her treacherous excitement to see him.
He betrayed you. Gave you away to Malik.
Ronin squeezed her hand, a subtle assurance to let her know he was there. Always behind her. Ready to act.
She inhaled a deep breath, one of moist leaves and floral fragrances braided in the seaweed breeze, and spun the band on her finger in fast circles with her thumb. A band identical to Ronin’s. Matte black with a ruby gemstone in its center.
Finnian materialized before them, the sound like a fluid swoosh. She made out the silhouette of his figure first, barely a few inches taller than her own height. Most gods Naia had crossed paths with were broad-shouldered, arms corded with muscles, but Finnian was the opposite. He was lean and possessed the stealth of a feline as he strolled into the bright rays streaming across the clearing from the streetlight.
He stopped a few feet from them, glanced at the invisible barrier with a jump to his lips. Naia didn’t want to think about how easy it would be for a High God like him to break it.
Ronin let go of her hand, as if he readied himself to attack if necessary.
Naia rolled back her shoulders and said, “Thank you for coming.”
Finnian’s long hair was pulled back behind his shoulders, leaving his bangs to frame his face as he assessed her. “It seems you’ve gotten yourself into one hell of a mess, Sister.”
His voice, his presence—Naia hated how much she’d missed him.
She fisted her hands at her sides, solidifying the tenderness in her heart. “It is why I called you here.”
His brows arched. “I’m listening.”
Naia brought her hand up to display the wretched curse mark. “I need your help to break this.”
Finnian had resources, a High God’s knowledge, and the freedom to go wherever he pleased to hunt down answers. He’d also somehow deflected Cassian’s wrath and continued practicing necromancy in spite of the High God. Finding a way was a talent of her infuriatingly willful little brother, it seemed.
Finnian’s expression hardened as he stared at it. “Your mark differs from his others. It possesses more of his signature aura. Clearly, your child is of grave importance to him.”
She cocked her head, baiting him. “Are you saying you are too afraid?”
