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Finnian’s presence carried a tender touch, akin to their father’s, prompting Naia to shield those vulnerable parts of her little brother. Luckily, his title was unbeknown, and he proved to be a difficult infant. These two things made Mira lose interest in him quickly, resulting in their father being his sole caretaker.

As the years passed, Solaris’ visits receded to a few a year. Both Levina and Mira retracted their order for Naia to become pregnant, concluding it was the High Goddess of Fate’s meddling that had made Naia sterile.

Naia couldn’t figure out if she was sad at the thought of never having a child or elated by it.

Looking down at Finnian’s infant form with an ache, she knew then. One day, with the right person, she longed for motherhood. A family of her own.

Through Finnian’s boyhood, Naia taught him of the Mortal Land, of wars and health. She let him accompany her into the village where they ate slices of sourdough and met their father at his favorite cove. He would sprout trees from the ground and tickle their feet with flowers.

Naia’s attention solely revolved around her brother and father, when she wasn’t doing menial tasks delegated to her by Mira.

The first time Mira commanded Naia to flay fish alongside the kitchen maids, it took a few intakes of breaths to calm her pounding heartbeat and irritation on the matter. She entered the kitchen as she was told, and flayed the fish corpses. The kitchen maids exchanged glances. When they tried to intervene and politely inform her she was doing a sloppy job, she’d grumble remarks under her breath, continuing to work her hands, regardless of what they said.

That evening during their feast, it brought Naia immense satisfaction watching her gaudy relatives break their teeth on the bones she failed to pluck out of the white flesh of the fish.

The most rewarding, though, was when Vex swallowed one and wailed, pink faced as Malik carved into his stomach with a dinner knife to remove it.

Naia was never assigned to work in the kitchen by Mira again.

Although, it didn’t stop Mira from assigning her other tedious tasks.

Naia would have much preferred breaking off her own legs rather than command servants around the great hall in preparation for a lavish feast, intended for a group of High Gods Mira had invited to Kaimana. A pathetic effort to stay updated on the politics of the Council and which High Deity had lost their title. But nevertheless, Mira enjoyed finding new ways to fill Naia’s life with daily duties as petty punishments for her failure of a uterus.

Finnian burst into the great hall, beaming. “Sister, you must come with me at once!”

Naia pulled her attention away from the center pieces on the tables to her little brother. The sleeves of his tucked-in tunic were stained with dirt.

“Have you been in the garden again?” Naia scolded. “Mother will punish you, Finny.”

He was in his twelfth year, and still possessed an innocent, childish charm in his gaze that Naia had desperately tried to preserve.

Finnian grabbed Naia’s hand and pulled her away from the group of servants, awaiting her approval on the dreadfully over-the-top flower arrangements. “Not in the garden,” he said. “I cannot say where aloud, but the place only the two of us know of.”

“Okay, okay, Finny. Slow down,” Naia giggled, allowing Finny to lead her away.

The servants gawked at the young lord, too stunned to dispute Naia’s departure. It was rare for them to see emotion exuding from him.

Finnian inherited Mira’s standard aloofness that either drew other’s attention in, or hit a nerve, as others easily mistook it for arrogance. Most days, Finnian didn’t bother the servants or guards with a look or indulge when they attempted small talk. His acknowledgement went as far as a bored stare.

He continued holding her hand as they traipsed down the cobblestone, leaving the palace grounds. “You’ll never believe what I stumbled upon during my walk.”

Grinning, she looked down at the back of his head. “Do tell me.”

His ebony strands swayed at the tops of his shoulders as he walked. Mira had demanded his servant to cut it a few months ago, but, preferring its length long, he refused. Naia was told by their father that when Finnian’s servant attempted to approach him with a cutting blade, he bore the poor goddess with a dark glare, daring her to touch his hair.

“You’ll see,” he said. “I do not think I could accurately describe its beauty.”

They veered off the cobblestone into the jungle, down an invisible pathway in the ground cover carved by the soles of their feet.

They passed by the metallic pool of a waterhole as he led her to the edge of the small clearing. Surrounding them were ancient kapok trees, their buttress roots jutting out of the soil, like graceful fingers sinking into the earth. Finnian loved climbing them and finding a spot to nap.

He crouched down in front of a make-shift pile of large banana tree leaves, their ends browned and cracked.

He removed one leaf from the pile. Naia leaned over his shoulder to inspect a tiny baby bird chirping in the center of the leaf chamber.

“It’s a Boyden. I found it in the waterhole, but its wing is injured. It almost drowned, and I’ve been nursing it back to health for a few days now,” he told her.

Naia kneeled to examine the bald creature, barely covered with a soft layer of fuzzy cobalt blue feathers. “It has been ages since I last saw one in Kaimana. I overheard Malik once say he saw one traveling from the Land of Entity to the Sun.”