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She wasn’t sure what to call the sensation warming in her chest. Whatever it was, she was equally joyful about it, as she was terrified to see the lengths Ronin would go.

He studied her for a long second, and then exhaled.

Ronin dropped his chin and stared down at the floor, and she could tell he was trying to reel in his frustration.

This was new territory for her, seeing someone angry on her behalf. She wasn’t sure how to tread through these waters. Unlike Solaris, Ronin would never hesitate to come to her aid, regardless of the consequences. It was an assurance and a promise she’d always needed to lower her guard with someone.

Naia rested her forehead on his jaw as it ticked. I hear you, her gesture said. He could be furious, but she would sit in it with him.

He turned and pressed his nose against her hairline, breathing her in. “You’ve always smelled like a flower garden. A sweet, floral fragrance I could never identify. But now I understand.”

She wiped her snotty nose with the back of her fingers and glanced at him through her damp lashes. “What do you mean?”

His fingers slid over her nape and up into her hair. “It’s not perfume or body oil. It’s just… you. The daughter of the High God of Nature. You’re ethereal, Naia. Beautiful and strong and so incredibly brave.”

His words moved pieces within her, the way the earth folded into itself to form a mountain, softening her old scars and unhealed bruises. Naia wanted to thank him for saying such kind things, for making her feel comfortable and safe after exposing so much to him. She’d shown him from her earliest memories as a child to the moment in her bedchamber with Solaris after Kaleo’s death. Now she felt wrung dry.

“Get dressed. I want to take you somewhere.” Ronin sat up on the couch, and with a wave of his hand, conjured up clothes folded neatly on the table in front of them.

Naia reached for the pair of jeans, slipping into them one leg at a time. She peeked over at Ronin, who was already fully dressed and sliding into a pair of boots.

She pulled the baggy, purple plaid shirt over her head, the one she’d seen him wear once before. The fusion of jasmine and sage embedded in the material; it was grounding.

Ronin waited for her by the doorway, his arm outstretched for her hand.

She gave it to him, and he led her out of the brewery.

During the drive across the city, he didn’t let her go. Their fingers remained intertwined on his thigh. Windows rolled down, spitting their hair all over the place. The blue and purple lights of the street flushed a berry glow across his profile. It was easy to spot remnants of his younger self. Even when he was a child, his eyes had the age of a gemstone. She could hardly believe they’d met once before. Back then, she’d simply longed to save his life, unknowing who he would become to her in the future.

By the time she’d refocused through her window, the scenery was a forest’s silhouette. They traveled up a winding road to higher elevation, catching glimpses of the distant city between the crevices of trees.

Ronin pulled off onto a gravel driveway. Up ahead was a tall, iron fence. From inside, flickering firelight cast shadows of the massive oak trees onto the grass.

Naia got out of the car, greeted by a musky, piney scent. The bluff they were on held a spectacular view of the city. A sea of dazzling lights and skyscrapers reaching into the abyss of smoke-gray clouds.

Ronin strolled around the car and grabbed Naia’s hand. “Come on.”

Gravel crunched beneath their feet. Standing at the entrance of the spiked gate were two individuals. The man had a loose tie around the collar of his white button-up, and the woman had her sleeves rolled up to her elbows, her tie perfectly lined over her reflective buttons. Two black blazers were lying on the ground nearby, stacked atop one another.

At the sight of Ronin, they both gave a small bow.

“Nikki. Collin,” he greeted with a casual head nod.

Naia’s footfalls scuffed the cement path through the graveyard. She spun her head around, attempting to get a layout of her surroundings, but she could hardly focus and walk at the same time. She tugged lightly on Ronin’s grip, but his speed didn’t let up.

The air smelled of sandalwood and saffron. They passed a ritual slab covered in melted candles and mortars and thin, frail branches of herbs, surrounded by a group. Some had their eyes closed, murmuring under their breaths. Others were reading from grimoires and holding muddled conversation.

They passed rows and rows of tombstones decorated in lit pillar candles with melted wax oozing down the sides. People lingered along the pathway. Some held drinks in their hands. Others walked around, lighting incense with the flick of their wrists. Like the two standing at the entrance, most of them wore mismatched pieces of black suits.

However, each person they passed bent slightly at the waist, keeping their back and neck straight in a solemn bow.

Ronin acknowledged each of them by their names.

In the graveyard’s center stood a stone mausoleum, decorated with spires and pinnacles. Its entrance was a pointed arch, and more people came and went from inside.

Naia walked up the steps leading to the side of the structure. Ronin stopped and let go of her hand.

There was a mural painted across the stone.