Page 31

Naia blanched. “My mother is not cursed.”

Solaris’s brow furrowed. “You do not know?”

Her blood ran cold. She sat her fork aside and straightened the edges of the cloth in her own lap as tremors ran through her fingers.

Naia’s silence must’ve sufficed as a response, because Solaris shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

He cleared his throat. “I cannot believe nobody has ever told you the tale of our mothers.”

She lifted her head, betrayal and anger clawing in her veins. “Then please enlighten me.”

Even though they hardly knew one another, she was already jealous of Solaris’s knowledge. Whatever relationship he had with his mother was not the same impassive one she had with hers.

“Lady Mira and my mother were long-standing enemies. Some say their hatred was born out of envy, though my mother is reluctant to confirm such. It led to fighting and chaos in the Mortal Realm, causing trouble for the deities.

“Sick of their relentless fighting, Lord Cassian punished them with a Curse of Eternity, sentencing Mira beneath the sea and my mother to Desdemona Volcano. With their freedom to scour the world revoked, they sent their closest allies out to search for a way to break their curse.”

Naia’s mouth went dry. “Did they?” she asked. Though, a part of her already knew the answer.

Solaris nodded. “Yes, by an oracle. They were to sacrifice their firstborn by forcing them to wed on their eight-hundredth birthdays. Only then, with the two families brought together in a union, would the curse break and grant both goddesses their freedom back.” A sad line crinkled across his mouth. “A year later, we were born.”

The pounding of her pulse throbbed in her skull. She tucked her hair behind her ear and rolled her lips, struggling to process how they existed solely to break a curse.

Worst of all, she despised how it suddenly made sense why Mira had always regarded Naia in a detached manner. Did she ever view me as her daughter, or simply a way to undo her curse?

Tears stung behind Naia’s nose as she shook her head. “Why our eight-hundredth year?”

Solaris shrugged. “I suppose it is a part of the fine print of the curse.”

Naia grimaced.

Eight centuries were lifespans away. Yet it felt like an avalanche heading her way.

“They gave us life,” Solaris said, and she could tell it was his attempt to uplift the heavy mood stifling their picnic. “In the end, that is what matters.”

Naia ground her teeth. “A life where we are to spend eternity shoved inside our mothers’ pockets until our time to be useful arrives.”

A frown weighed on Solaris’s lips. “I apologize, Lady Naia. I should not have?—”

“No, thank you, Lord Solaris.”

It was imperative he continued to be honest with her. Despite her disappointment, she’d rather be knowledgeable than ignorant.

Solaris reached across the table and took her hand. His touch was warm, as expected, of a middle god of fire. “It is my honor, Lady Naia.”

As they held each other’s eyes, the loneliness lingering in Naia eased. Perhaps having a friend would bring her a splash of companionship she craved.

Naia took back her hand and continued eating her cake. “I appreciate your honesty, but it does not mean I have any intentions of being your wife.”

The young lord rested back in his chair with a sly grin. “We shall see.”

Naia’s presence was required at the training arena at sunrise each morning.

It was rumored by the servants and guards how the arena was built by Mira’s hands alone in the early days of Kaimana.

If Naia were honest, she despised the amphitheater. It only brought violence.

During her Mira’s annual challenge where she pitted middle deities against one another for fun, Naia would sit in her parents’ box in the highest tier atop her father’s lap, mortified by the devastation deities were capable of.