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She met Cassian’s gaze. “Thank you for helping me,” she said sincerely.

His eyes darkened with zeal, and regret twisted in her gut.

Before she could think too hard about her decision, Naia lifted her arm and shook the God of Death and Curses’ hand.

2

NOHEALANI ISLAND

There were two ways out of Kaimana.

Teleportation—a talent Naia did not have, thanks to her confinement. And the River of Souls—the route Naia took the last time she ran away, prior to her curse.

The river flowed through Kaimana into the Land of the Dead—unless traveling against its stream. Then, it came out into the sea.

On the ground, with her back pressed against the smooth bark of a palm tree, Naia looked over her shoulder to evaluate her current predicament.

Nightrazers lurked in the garden. Obsidian mist rippled in the shadowy wraith creatures’ wake as they glided in search of her.

Naia despised the grotesque creatures.

Mortals believed nightrazers were entities born from the High Goddess of Night’s sorrows. In truth, there was no poetry to their existence. The monstrosities were a testament to Naia’s little sister’s vile nature.

It appeared Marina had discovered Naia was no longer in her bedchamber, and judging by how the kingdom wasn’t quaking from Mira’s rage to find Naia, she didn’t know of Naia’s absence—yet.

Naia lowered onto her elbows in the sand and crawled alongside a plump hibiscus bush. Her feet got tangled up in her dress, and she mentally cursed. If it weren’t for the sound, Naia would’ve considered ripping the skirt to give herself more room to move.

She remained hunkered with her breath held and gauged the distance between her and the bridge in the garden’s center. It was less than a sprint away. All she had to do was dive into the river.

Something tickled the bottom of her foot.

Her pulse jumped, and terror the size of an avalanche froze over her.

A low growl rumbled behind her. The sound rolled through her skin, and her breath locked in her diaphragm. She twisted her head to look behind her to find a black hole for a face staring at her. Within its folds bared a mouth full of thin, needle-sharp rows of teeth.

Naia spun on her knees and threw her arm up to drive her fist into the ground between them. Vibrations from her punch sent tremors up the soles of her feet, shaking the fat leaves of the palm trees overhead.

The nightrazer lunged for her; its elongated, carcass-like fingers scraped across her cheek. She pushed back to her feet and landed on her tailbone. Scrambling on her elbows to crawl up, Naia righted herself and darted through the cloak of dust in the garden.

The ghastly creature screeched, announcing to the others of her location. She winced. The sound was like driving a knife into her ears.

Naia leaped over the craters she’d created in the sand and ran towards the bridge. Her foot came down on the hardwood as darkness swallowed the rays of the palace lanterns slipping past the tall flora of the garden.

Her stomach plummeted at the sight of Marina materializing in the middle of the bridge, and she halted. The milky glow of Marina’s complexion against the divine, black veil was hauntingly beautiful.

It was a frustrating reflex of Naia’s body to purge with a white-hot dread when standing against her little sister.

Marina strutted towards her in a black gown, the gold chain finishing down the long sleeves and around her slender waist, clinking with each step. Marina’s regality alone was enough to give Naia an inferiority complex.

“You are a nuisance. Go back to your bedchamber.” Marina’s expression was desolate, voice monotone, as she spoke through dark-stained lips.

Nightrazers floated around them, and Naia’s mind scrambled trying to figure out her next move, while intentionally ignoring the part of herself that was convinced it would be easier to give up. She’d made it this far. “No.”

Marina cocked her head. The gesture was patronizing, and her eyes filled with a twinge of enjoyment. “Then I will drag you back there myself.”

Naia snatched the butterfly hairpin out of her updo and tossed it in the air. “Wren, go!”

The ancient relic’s wings fluttered to life and fired.