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As she studied her father, a deep sense of animosity welled up within her, clouding her thoughts. He had not entered Kaimana blind. He was well acquainted with how horrible Mira was.
“Why have children with her then?” Naia snapped. “Mira is a monster! What? Were you lonely? Or did you genuinely fall in love with her?”
Part of her hoped there was some private, redeemable quality of Mira’s that won over her father’s love.
His brow creased. “Do you hear what you are insinuating?”
Tears burned in her eyes. “Never existing would be worth never having to experience her wrath ever again! You had to have known she would’ve been a barbarous mother. Tell me, does she treat you any better than me?”
“I was selfish,” he replied with little thought. “I wanted to know what it would bring me to hold my child, to love something more than myself. I knew the only reason why Mira wanted a child was to break her curse, but I didn’t care.”
Naia scoffed sourly, ignoring the violent twinge of affection his words brought to her heart. Deep down, she knew. But she asked anyway. “Well, did you get such a thing?”
He reached over the table and picked up her hand. His gentle touch reached down into her soul, thawing her bitterness. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Naia. From the first breath you drew. I knew I could love you enough to make up for your mother’s lack of.”
Naia believed him. More than anyone in her life.
“You ask why I do not interfere,” he said. “It is because I am not allowed to strike Mira. Doing so will result in Cassian escorting me to the Land of the Dead, where I’ll be confined in Moros indefinitely.”
The Council had sentenced plenty of gods to Moros over the centuries for various crimes.
Ender, a previous High God of Winter, despised mortals and cast an eternal winter over their land. It overran the Land of the Dead with souls. Prayers of disdain and blame were directed to the High Goddess of Fate. Mortals spit on her name and blamed her for their hardships—losing loved ones, livestock, livelihoods. Eventually, the Council punished Ender for taking advantage of his title by sentencing him to Moros. It was a prison in the fiery depths of the Land of the Dead, run by Cassian himself. Death was not a prerequisite for being sentenced to confinement.
The thought of that kind of fate inflicted upon Father made Naia’s stomach twist.
An overwhelming sense of helplessness and insignificance washed over her. Regardless of what hellish place the supposed inferno confinement was actually like, she would lose her father forever if he ever broke the rule.
She clasped his hand tighter, fearing the gods would snatch him away if she released her grip.
The fear racing through her veins was like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path.
Her days with him suddenly felt limited.
“I don’t like this, Father.”
“Nothing has happened, darling.” He chuckled. “I am right here with you. Do not worry.”
He was her sliver of light in the darkness shrouding her. Every soft smile and blossomed dahlia; the low rumble of his laugh and the gentle tugs of the ends of her hair; the vibrant sunlight against a harsh winter; a beacon for her hope and constant love to tether on to.
She needed him beside her, around her, always within reach.
15
SLAUGHTER
The Present
Naia twisted the bracelet around her wrist in anxious laps.
The charity event was hosted in a metropolitan arena on the magical side of the city. One street over from Tempest. They were now in Finnian’s territory, as Ronin mentioned earlier.
Alke Hall.
Two towering peaks cradled a massive glass structure. The architecture was sharp and sleek, filled with essences of Finnian’s childhood bird in the stoic posture of the hall. The pointed rooftops of the two shafts shimmered like they‘d been dipped in molten gold.
As they neared the entrance, the plated doors swung open with a soft, enchanting whisper, beckoning the guests inside.
Naia’s arm hooked around Ronin’s to keep from wobbling in her heels.
