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“How will I know when that time is?” she asked.
“My mark will appear.” His eyes downcast to her hand resting at her side.
Her fingers spasmed against her thigh, unsettled by the idea. “What curse will you force upon me?”
Cassian gave a small laugh. “You seem nervous now, Lady Naia.”
She narrowed her eyes, ignoring the mountain-sized drop in her stomach hearing him use her name. “The spectrum of your curses is quite extreme. How do I know you won’t turn me into a toad, make me go mad, or force me to be the bride of your underworld?”
In a blink, he appeared with less than a foot between them. His elegant movement sent a gust through her hair, one of citrus and mint, and her breath caught in her throat.
“I assure you, Little Goddess, becoming my bride would resemble nothing like a curse,” he said slowly, like rolling a diamond around on his tongue. It unnerved Naia. “As for the terms of your new curse, it’s best if you go on naively until the day comes.”
Could she truly enjoy her freedom with his, no doubt nefarious, curse looming over her? It could activate in several days, a year from now, or even a hundred. Was she strong enough to deal with such an intense level of anxiety?
Perhaps the anxiety itself was the curse—to spend her days swallowed in a constant state of dread and paranoia until she lost her sanity.
Cassian would free her, and regardless of the consequences, she wouldn’t allow the chance for freedom to slip through her fingers.
An old grievance prodded her thoughts, though. A question she never had the fortitude to ask him—until now, when she had nothing to lose.
“What could Mira have possibly offered you in exchange for cursing me here all those years ago?” she asked.
Naia wasn’t always stuck in Kaimana. Prior to her curse, it was her fear of Mira keeping her from leaving. However, after a series of losses and grave suffering, Naia spitefully disobeyed Mira’s order and left without permission to explore the Mortal Land. Those months of freedom earned Naia the punishment of a Thousand Strikes and one of Cassian’s curses.
With a god as well-known and powerful as him, others were not worth his time unless they presented the right bargain.
“Truth is, Little Goddess, you fascinate me. Eight hundred years and you have nothing to show for it.” He moved in a slow stride around her. “You are not the High Goddess of Night like your sister, Marina, nor the High God of Witchcraft and Sorcery like your brother, Finnian, or the High God of Slaughter like your other brother, Malik. Even the other two of the triplets are middle gods. But you…” He came to a stop behind her.
With her pulse staggering in the base of her throat, she angled her head to peek at him over her shoulder. Cassian was not a god she trusted to turn her back on.
“You are the firstborn to the High Goddess of the Sea, ruler of the tide for well over three-thousand years, and you are without a title.” He took another step, coming close enough where Naia could feel his body heat collide with her backside. “A lesser goddess. No different than the servants who scurry through your mother’s halls.”
A fact that used to fill Naia with humiliation every time she was reminded of it.
It was a rarity for firstborns of High Deities to be powerless. Naia had spent the first part of her childhood praying for things to be different. Though, no amount of pretending to whisper the ways of water, like her mother could, or dance with nature, the way her father did, ever came to her.
“Take the deal or not.” Cassian strolled around in front of her, his infinite gaze grabbing onto hers. “If you want to leave this place, you agree to my new curse.”
She squeezed her fists, her fingernails biting into the skin of her palm.
As an immortal, death could not touch her. Whatever the curse inflicted, she was confident she could handle it. A year, or even a day, of freedom was worth evading lifetimes of misery stuck beneath the sea.
“I accept.” The words were like dry rocks piling in her mouth.
Regardless of her doubts, she lifted her chin high. “Now free me so I can leave.”
“As you wish.” Cassian pulled his hand from his pocket and held it out between them.
Naia’s eyes drifted from his face to his outstretched palm. It was much bigger than hers. Long, stodgy fingers, flawless skin, a valley of lines.
She understood by grabbing it she would seal their deal. During the exchange, he would mark her. Though it would not be visible until his curse activated.
An awareness twinged on the back of her shoulder, where her current curse mark was. A black lace design she refused to look at in the mirror but knew of its presence, due to the servants and their murmurs when they caught glimpses of it while she bathed or dressed.
Back when she’d received it, her two brothers had forced her down on her knees with a powerful hold as Mira watched from afar. Cassian had stood over her, and the gentle touch of his hand had amazed her, considering his reputation.
This time, he gave her the option to grab onto him. In the end, it was all Naia ever wanted. A choice.
