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Ronin went to pull away his hand, and she curled her fingers through his.

It was nonsensical to cling to him, but it was as if her body acted of its own accord. Disconnected to the part of her brain snarling, let go.

In the mirror, she watched as his eyes fell to their intertwined hands, then back up to search her gaze.

“Naia,” he whispered, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear.

A shiver dashed up her spine.

She regarded him with the turn of her head, her heart thudding uncontrollably in the base of her throat.

Her eyes lowered to his parted lips as she swallowed. What would it feel like?

His breath smelled of champagne as it fanned against her mouth. She could taste it among the coffee he had downed during the drive to the dress shop.

The inkling of affection he had formed for her was apparent, and it was the ultimate catalyst in her decision to pull away. Tender slivers of light, joy, never lasted in her world.

“We need to go,” she said, stepping away from him.

Ronin tightened his hold on her hand when she went to slip it free.

She looked up at him.

“Answer one thing for me.” He brought her long, delicate fingers up to his lips, roving them softly over her knuckles as he spoke. “If I take you to Finnian, will that make you happy?”

No.

Yes.

A sharp pang cracked through her heart at the thought of never reuniting with Finnian, as well as leaving Ronin behind.

With clenched teeth, she pulled her hand free, unable to answer him.

Part Two

Abandon All Hope

12

COWARD

The Past

Naia swung her legs back and forth over the River of Souls, transfixed by the ethereal, ghost-like surface, the color of lavender milk. The stream whispered the words of the departed souls as they journeyed to the Land of the Dead. Voices clambering on top of one another in a hushed chorale.

Solaris hauled himself up smoothly on the railing beside Naia. “There you are.”

He arrived in Kaimana four days ago. A consistent routine of visits, only this one was not coincidental, as it happened to be during the five days of Naia’s fertility.

Each night was the same.

Come nightfall, Raksa would escort Solaris into her bedchamber, stand in the corner on orders he could not leave, and watch as Solaris and Naia pretended to lay with one another.

They got creative in their endeavors, calling it fun and making a game out of it, instead of what it truly was. Shielded by the layers of her bedsheets, it was easy. Solaris only needed to mimic thrusting on top of her. Some nights, she wanted to kiss him. The friction of his body flushed against hers, with only the thin material of their undergarments separating them. She’d considered it, but the thought of becoming pregnant paralyzed her each time.

After Raksa left them, they wasted the night away in conversation.

Solaris never left her bed until morning. Naia slipped closer to him through the night to lay her head on his shoulder or nudging her backside against him as she pretended to sleep. In response, Solaris would bring his hand around her waist and hold her snug against him.