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Yuki sprang up.

Everyone gaped down at him.

Naia withdrew her hand from his to cup his face. She measured the temperature of his skin and how it was no longer deathly cold. His cheeks had regained their color.

How?

She tore the bloodied piece of his shirt that Yuki had used to stop the bleeding from his wound and brushed her fingertips against the newly healed skin.

The injury was gone.

Her eyes flitted back up to his face as he slowly sat up, wincing.

Yuki looked back and forth between him and Naia, mouth hanging open in astonishment. “What?—”

A blinding white light eclipsed Ronin’s silhouette, crashing down behind him and throwing Naia back.

38

THE GODDESS OF

The Past

It was Naia’s eighth year.

Holding onto her father’s hand, she gawked at the sparkling pinpricks filling the sea sky. Schools of fish waded by, distorting the glittering blobs into golden clouds.

They entered the palace and the feast wafted from inside the great hall. Three goddesses of music provided entertainment, strumming their lyres and singing in melodic pitches that warmed Naia’s ears. Gusts of chattering relatives and guests mingled with the tune.

Mother sat at the table at the head of the room atop a platform. She wore a dark blue velvet gown, and her long silver hair was braided around her head like a crown. As she peered across her hall, a rare smile passed over her lips.

Naia interpreted the goddesses’ fleeting emotional response as adoration. A silly fantasy of a great misfortune, or perhaps deep in her soul, her mother harbored a love for those filling the walls of her magnificent hall. A secret joy or satisfaction sitting perched above, observing her guests sharing tales, reminiscing about her glory days of being an untamed High Goddess.

Mother’s iridescent irises cut to Naia, as if she could sense her staring, and the delicate curve of her smile fell into thin lips.

Naia frowned.

Father gave Naia’s fingers a gentle squeeze to get her attention.

She looked up at his soft expression, seeking refuge in his gentle presence.

“Let us dance.” He swept Naia off her feet into his arms and moved swiftly to the center of the floor. With the grace of water, he swayed in sync with the others twirling around them. The room blurred, disorienting the gods and the hall.

Naia giggled, spreading her arms out. “Keep spinning!”

A deep rumble vibrated his chest as he laughed.

She latched onto the detail of his joyful smile, the delicious aroma of seared octopus and roasted asparagus, and the specific melody playing as they danced. Naia wanted the moment forever, but too soon, they would resume their place at the table. And with that thought, a mourning sliced through Naia’s happiness. Why couldn’t things last forever?

“I don’t want this moment to end, Father,” she murmured. “I feel sad.”

“My darling.” He lightly flicked her nose as they continued to spin around the dance floor. “That is the definition of love.”

Tiny yellow flowers lay throughout his hair, like an onyx meadow painted with specks of painted jewels. Naia reached out and picked one. “How?”

He plucked the small flower from between her small fingers and stuck it in her hair. “You don’t want this moment to end because you love me.”

She pursed her lips, thinking on it. “Does love last?”