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Solaris slightly bowed in Naia’s direction. “Pleased to meet you.”

She dipped her chin in response. “You as well, Lord Solaris.”

“You two will wed on your eight-hundredth year,” Mira announced.

Naia’s eyes widened. “Why?” It blurted out of her mouth before she could stop it.

Mira’s head rotated towards her, eyes slitting into daggers. “You dare question me?”

“Mother, I-I was?—”

“Yes, Lady Mira,” Solaris intervened. “We understand.”

The muscles in Naia’s neck clenched, and she turned her head away from Mira.

“Delightful.” Mira signaled to the guards standing like pillars around Solaris with a look. “Guide Lord Solaris and Naia to the gardens to get acquainted.”

“Right away, Lady Mira.”

The guards escorted them to a table set up under a trumpet vine canopy. Naia found the floral fragrance of the garden and the trickling of the River of Souls nearby to be tranquil. A much-needed reprieve from being forced to stand near Mira.

Servants appeared with tea and cakes as Naia and Solaris took their seats.

Naia rubbed her forefinger and thumb together in the material of the linen napkin, watching Solaris drape his over his lap like a true gentleman.

Gianna, Naia’s servant, filled their teacups. The lovely steam of the hibiscus tea wafted in the air.

“My appreciation,” Solaris regarded Gianna with a smile. It was genuine and impressive, pulling out a bashful tint to the servant’s cheeks. She bowed her head and backed away to leave.

Naia gauged the young lord closely. “Why are we to marry?” she asked.

What did Mira stand to gain from the arrangement?

“Our mothers want to strengthen the union between our families,” Solaris explained.

Naia half-expected him not to know—like her.

She crammed a piece of strawberry cake into her mouth and replied, “Fhoo if you muver?”

Solaris laughed. “You know the way to capture a man’s eye, love.”

She swallowed her large mouthful. “You are my age, yes? Hardly a man when you are merely thirteen. And you did not answer my question.”

He took a small sip of his tea as steam billowed from the porcelain. “Levina, High Goddess of Lightning.”

Naia lowered her fork. “Of the Desdemona Volcano?”

“Yes.”

She’d heard of the infamous Levina through the whispers of servants and guards—the High Goddess trapped within a volcano by none other than Cassian himself.

“The rumors are true then?” she asked.

Solaris took another sip of his tea. “How my mother is cursed and cannot step outside Desdemona Volcano?”

“Is she?”

He placed his teacup back on its saucer. “Yes. Precisely how yours cannot step outside of the sea.”