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For the power of all deities to flourish, worshipers were essential.

“Just as you proclaimed your refusal to be separated any longer,” Ruelle added.

Naia shook her head, dazed. “What are you saying, Lady Ruelle?”

Ruelle leaned forward, her gilded strands slipping past her shoulders. “Lady Naia, I am saying you blessed Mr. Kahale with eternal life.”

Naia gasped.

The moment came rushing back to her—right before she went into labor, watching Ronin while he slept, when she made her eternal vow and kissed him on the forehead.

Naia’s fingers came up to her lips.

I have a… power?

She hardly believed it, but her dormant power was the only explanation for Ronin’s survival. Mortals did not know of her, and none had ever declared their praises to her—until Ronin.

Tears pricked her eyes and an elated, breathy laugh slipped free.

Of Everlasting Love. Her father’s gentle voice resounded in her mind, chiseling a melancholic ache down her middle. Only she couldn’t help but smile at the memory, and the fact he had been right. She’d a power in her all along.

“Wade through your tears, Lady Naia, and be merry.” Ruelle wiped the corner of Naia’s eye with the back of her finger. “For you are the first of your kind—the High Goddess of Eternity.”

40

WHAT IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE

“Absolutely not.” Naia scanned the back of the cereal box with disapproval. “There are twelve grams of sugar per serving.”

“He loves them, though.” Ronin pouted, his attention solely on nine-month-old Ash, gnawing and drooling on his knuckles.

Coming from her husband, who could never say no to the face of their chubby-cheeked child, and who would never be caught dead eating something as sweet as fruity cereal.

Naia placed the box back on the shelf. “He will also love a mushed-up apple.”

“Applesauce is boring.” Ronin’s gaze came up to her, brow cocked. “Let’s check the sugar content in a slice of cake.”

Naia leveled him with a stare. “I am a goddess. Nutritional value means nothing to me.”

“High Goddess,” Ronin corrected her with a prideful smirk. “And he is a demigod.”

She skimmed over the first part of his statement with mixed feelings towards the subject. “Half mortal.”

Ash rotated in her direction and held out his stubby arms. His chin was wet with saliva and his silver hair was already a mess, despite Naia brushing it that morning.

She lifted him out of his seat and positioned him on her hip—even though they’d both agreed to leave him in the cart seat due to his clinginess to her—because she too could not resist her child’s swirly brown eyes.

In what Ronin referred to as her baby-talking voice, she cooed, “You need to grow up with strong bones, right, Ashy darling?”

He made an ah sound Naia took as agreement, which quickly became a high-pitched squeal of excitement, flailing his arms about enthusiastically.

“That’s right.” Naia giggled.

Ash reached for the butterfly hairpin in Naia’s braid. Wren’s tassels, repaired by none other than Avi and a brilliant potion, skimmed the shell of her ear, serving as a welcomed reminder of her father, no matter how far away he was.

Naia showered Ash’s chubby cheeks with kisses that only made him squeal louder. His small hands found purchase on her nose and chin, and she gave a final smooch on his forehead before he crammed a fistful of her hair into his mouth.

“You see, we’re in agreement, Ash and me.” When she looked up, Ronin’s gaze was a glimmering puddle of melted chocolate as he watched them. Naia had come to recognize it as a look he wore during sentimental moments.