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It might be easy to dismiss local legends of the island being a paradise before the “loss” of their goddess, but my colleagues interested in the study of the natural world tell me that the rings of the ancient fir trees at the heart of the island do indicate that Akeisa was not always the frozen world we see now.

Akeisa: A Comprehensive History (Volume One)

by Guildmaster Klement

The water was rising fast.

Naia huddled against the ribs of the hull as the water lapped around her calves, her desperate gaze locked on the closed hatch at the other end of the hold. To reach it would mean potential survival, but by the time she managed to draw in a single ragged breath, the water had reached the tops of her thighs.

Too fast for escape, but plenty slow enough for regret. She hated that her life would end this way—away from her family, in a ship that belonged to someone else. There were so many things she should have done, and now—

The water covered her mouth, surged into her nose. Filled her.

And now there was no more time.

Naia jerked out of the nightmare, her heart pounding and her fists clenched. She panted for breath as tears tracked down her temples and into her damp hair.

Not a nightmare. She’d had one or two of those after the final battle against Sorin, confusing tangles of fear and surreal danger from which she had struggled in vain to wake. Unlike those labyrinths of terror, this had felt very real.

A memory, then.

Her chest ached, and more tears leaked from her eyes as she closed them to whisper a small prayer for the drowned sailor. She didn’t know who they were or when they’d lived and died, but she knew that their final moments had passed in paralyzing fear and aching solitude. That their last thoughts had been of a home they would never again see or touch or taste.

Sleep was an impossibility now, and she knew better than to try. Naia slipped from her bed. In the dim light of the nearly dead fire, she found her robe and slippers, but left the heavy cloak in the wardrobe as she reached for a lamp. She seemed to be acclimating to the frigid temperatures faster than she’d anticipated—not that she needed warmer clothing just to roam the halls of Gwynira’s palace.

She hesitated just outside, her hand still on the latch as she gazed down the darkened corridor toward Einar’s room. She longed to see him, but she couldn’t intrude and possibly interrupt his sleep. He wouldn’t mind, but he would make assumptions about why she’d come, and he wouldn’t even be wrong.

The day had been too full of emotion to make rash decisions. They both deserved better. So she headed in the opposite direction, passing by closed doors and peeking through open doorways until she found a library.

She drifted in, taking in the shadowed space. It was a small, round room, dominated by a hearth and an arrangement of reading chairs. Every single bit of wall space had been built up with stone shelves, and the shelves were filled with books.

It was exactly the sort of place Naia required—cozy and secure, with a thousand tiny distractions at hand, just in case she needed them. She set the lamp on a small table and sank into one of the reading chairs. The leather was cool through the twin layers of thin fabric she wore, and she shivered.

Soft footsteps pricked her ears a moment before a flash of movement drew her gaze. A servant walked past, knelt before the hearth, and began to lay a fire.

“You don’t have to do that,” Naia protested.

“It’s no trouble, my lady,” he rumbled.

He actually sounded sincere , not at all as if he had to reassure her or potentially face his mistress’s wrath. As the tiny flames began to take hold and grow stronger, another servant entered, this one bearing a shining silver tray. She placed an engraved carafe and a mug on the table next to Naia’s lamp. Silently, she poured a measure of dark liquid into the mug and pressed it into Naia’s hands.

The metal was warm to the touch, and the scent of spiced wine filled Naia’s senses. “Thank you.”

The woman nodded and stepped back, the now empty tray clutched in front of her like a shield. She stared at Naia with wide eyes until the other servant rose, his task complete, and joined her.

The silence grew heavy—not with expectation, as if they were waiting for Naia to speak again or offer them something in reward for their efforts, but with something even more profound. They stood there as if watching her was their reward, and Naia finally recognized the emotion hanging in the firelit room.

It was faith. The fervency of belief .

She thanked them again, her words falling into the dim room like rain onto upturned faces. “If I need anything else, I’ll be sure to call.”

The man bowed his head, but a bright, relieved smile curved the woman’s lips. “We are honored to be able to give thanks for Her blessed intercession.”

Naia could clearly hear the elevated importance placed on the pronoun: Her. But before she could ask for clarification of those cryptic words, if they spoke of their long-dead goddess, the two servants melted into the darkness of the hallway, leaving her alone with the fire and her thoughts.

She should have expected the dreams to surface here. She wasn’t sure why some places seemed louder than others, almost closer to the Dream itself, but she could certainly feel it here. It had been the same in the Burning Hills, when they had camped at the Phoenix’s Tower during Sachi’s progress through the Sheltered Lands. Snatches of emotion had seemed to echo off those sun-scorched cliffs, battering Naia from all directions.

Perhaps this island was like the Burning Hills, and it simply held too many memories to be contained.

A low whistling echoed through the hall, and Naia turned just in time to see Aleksi saunter past the open doorway, looking rumpled but definitely in one piece.

The sound abruptly stopped, and he ducked his head back, a quizzical look furrowing his brow. “Naia? You’re up late. Does your room not suit?”

“The room is fine.” She shook her head. “I couldn’t sleep, that’s all.”

“Ah.” He entered the room, studying it as he crossed the stone floor. He pulled a hand from his pants pocket and indicated the chair closest to hers. “May I join you?”

“Of course.”

He’d shed his jacket as well as his tunic, leaving him in a gauzy undershirt that resembled a shorter version of the garment Naia had been provided to wear under her dress. The fabric was finely woven but plain, unadorned even by buttons. Instead, it fastened at the neck and wrists with simple ribbon ties. It looked out of place with his formal gold-embroidered pants and the firelight glinting off his jewel-encrusted shoes.

He should have looked ridiculous, not handsome enough to steal a person’s breath. But that was Aleksi, wasn’t it? Even the scant few human foibles and flaws that the rest of the High Court retained did not seem to plague him. He was pure physical perfection, enticing and untouchable.

“Have you—?” Her voice came out too high, almost breathless, and Naia cleared her throat. “Did you just leave the Grand Duchess?”

“I did.” He settled into the chair with a sigh. “We came to an accord.”

Naia arched an eyebrow and waited.

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “We also drank quite a lot.”

“Evidently.” She wanted to press him for details, but that felt far too revealing, so she sipped her wine.

Aleksi changed the subject. “Why could you not sleep?”

“No reason,” she deflected. “It’s nothing.”

But his dark eyes saw too much. “Bad dreams?” he asked gently. “Or perhaps memories?”

The question startled Naia into a nod. “Memories, yes. From the Dream.”

“Tell me?”

Naia took a moment to order her thoughts. “They’re always present, but usually ... hazy. Like something I knew once but have forgotten.” She swallowed hard. “Not here.”

“Some places do bring them up more readily than others,” he whispered. His expression softened until only the mere hint of a smile remained. “I remember. It was unimaginably difficult. Suffering the throes of longings and pangs of heartache that weren’t mine, not really, but also—”

“Are a part of you, just the same,” she finished, dazed. “You were never human?”

He hummed and shook his head. “No. I was born of the Dream, just like you. A being of belief.”

Naia’s heart thudded painfully in her breast. It had never occurred to her that he might not have come into his power like the rest of the High Court, in a violent manifestation during a low moment of very human desperation. She leaned forward, eager for ... what? His advice? His tutelage?

Perhaps simply to connect with someone else like her .

“How did you learn to manage it?” she choked out finally. “All the feelings and memories that weren’t yours?”

“Badly,” he admitted. “My first few decades were a disaster. I was easily overwhelmed, and there were times I could barely hold myself together. But I had help, Naia. And so will you.”

It should have sounded like a platitude, an empty reassurance that would amount to nothing of substance. But when Aleksi spoke, it was impossible not to believe him. Every aspect of his being screamed sincerity, as if he was made of the sort of honesty that could only be found in intimacy. His voice was a quiet conversation in the dark, sometimes painful and revealing but always, always full of absolute truth.

So she offered him the truth in return. “It helps just to know,” she admitted. “That there’s someone else who understands, I mean.”

“I do.” Then his smile reappeared in brilliant force, an expression that bolstered Naia’s spirits just as much as his next words. “For the record? You’re handling all this much better than I ever did.”

It made so much sense to her now, why Aleksi had suffered so during that final battle against the Empire, when he and the others had been cut off from the Dream. Naia had escaped the same painful fate only through circumstance, because she and Einar had been closer to the ship than to the heart of the conflict at the time.

The other members of the High Court had managed to fight through it, perhaps because that removal was not new to them. They already knew what it was to understand the Dream as a distant concept rather than the very core of who they were. But the attack had nearly felled Aleksi, and no wonder. The Dream was all he’d ever known, and to have it wrenched away like that ...

Currents of sympathy swirled around Naia’s heart, and she started to reach out to him.

But suddenly, Aleksi’s smile turned wicked. Mischievous. “You haven’t asked about Einar yet. A supreme act of willpower.”

A blush washed over her. “You said you and Gwynira had reached an accord. I assumed that meant—”

“Worry not, little nymph,” he murmured. “Your lover is safe.”

The word alone made Naia blush even hotter. “He is not my lover.”

Aleksi arched one perfect, incredulous brow. “Are you suggesting that I wouldn’t know? Am I not the expert here?”

There was no argument to be made there, nothing she could say to effectively deny his claim. What did she know of love? All she had were the vague memories of a thousand dead Dreamers ... and a yearning that all too often left her weak-kneed and aching.

“He is your lover,” Aleksi said again, “and I am glad of it. I would tease you mercilessly about taming the Kraken, but I cannot. It is good to see. Einar has been alone and lonely for far too long.”

There was an almost wistful note in the observation, and it gave Naia pause. She’d underestimated Aleksi before—no, that was inaccurate. She had never discounted his power or his dedication or his sincerity. She simply had not considered his emotions, or even that he might have them. She had not thought of him as a person, but as an ideal, and the realization shamed her.

But she was a quick learner. Instead of dwelling on her mistake, she tilted her head and looked at Aleksi—truly looked at him —for the very first time. Pain bracketed his eyes as he stared into the fire, distant memories haunting his gaze.

And she found herself asking him the most ridiculous question. “Have you ever been in love?”

“Once.” The word left his lips as a barely audible whisper. “Just once.”

How could that be? Not only was Aleksi thousands of years old, he was the god of love, a Dream-born manifestation of the emotion. Loving was not second nature to him. It was his first nature. His only.

But he had not said that he hadn’t loved freely, eagerly, just that he had been in love only once. And it made a strange sort of sense. He was more than the Lover, after all; he was also a man , not through birth but through lived experience. And didn’t the poets and bards often speak of the elusive nature of true and abiding love?

The pain in his eyes had not diminished, and Naia sucked in a breath. “You don’t have to—”

But Aleksi was already speaking—softly. Carefully. “Her name was Alysaia. She was one of Ash’s consorts. This was long before they learned to fear him as a matter of course, but Alys ... was shy and nervous. So Ash asked for my help. Could I set her at ease so that they might get to know one another properly?”

“I see.”

“Do you?” A wry smile twisted his lips. “It worked, of course. They got along famously. For a while, it was all good fun.”

Naia’s blush returned. She had been at Aleksi’s villa during Sachi’s progress, and had attended the Union Day celebration under the moons and the stars. She had watched as Aleksi had seduced Sachi, Ash, and Zanya by putting his hands and mouth all over the writhing, panting princess while her lovers drank in the sounds of her helpless moans.

Naia knew well how Aleksi defined good fun .

Aleksi huffed out a quiet laugh. “I see that look, little nymph. You may blush to recall my many debaucheries, but how did you spend that evening?” He leaned forward, bracing his elbow on one knee. “Naked between several members of the Raven Guard, from what I remember.”

Yes, she had spent that night in a dizzying whirl of discovery. She had tasted desire, learned what it was to give and receive pleasure. It had been new and old, all at once, a familiar melody with words she had yet to hear.

Then the true import of his words hit her, and she met his gaze. She had not known he’d ever taken notice of her. Why would he? “You were watching me?”

He didn’t look away. “My attention is often drawn to beautiful things.”

There was that breathtaking sincerity again, only this time, it was wrapped in a low voice, potent and smooth, like spiced honey. It was a voice made for the deepest embraces in the quiet of the night, for secret promises and seduction.

Naia wasn’t immune. His words shivered up her spine. For a moment, she remembered that night, the moons and the stars. Imagined herself in Sachi’s place.

She shuddered. And still, Aleksi held her gaze, almost daring her to ... what? Break first? Or never, ever look away at all?

Naia’s skin felt too tight. The room was suddenly hot, the fire stifling, and she closed her eyes because she had to. Because she had no idea what would happen if she didn’t.

“What—?” Her voice rasped, cracked. “What came to pass? Between you and Alysaia?”

He hummed, the sound rumbling through the still, close room. “We became fast friends. Somewhere, in the middle of everything, we became more. Before long, she had moved into my villa, and every day was just as good as the first. We laughed, danced. Cried.” He paused. “It was perfect.”

Naia’s mind reeled at the revelation. “Was Ash upset?”

Aleksi chuckled, more fondness than mirth in the sound. “Of course not. His heart is too big for that. No, he was happy for us.”

“And then what happened?”

There was the grief again, wreathing Aleksi like smoke. “What always happens to humans. We had seventy-four years together, and she died in my arms.”

His voice hitched on the final words, as if the pain had contracted around him, no longer distant or faded or vague but as fresh as a new, bleeding wound.

Naia did reach for him this time, wrapping her fingers tight around his. “I’m so sorry, Aleksi.”

“Don’t be, love. Not for me.” He drew her hand to his lips, kissed the backs of her fingers. “It was worth every moment—before, during, and since. Even with the pain, I would not trade those years for anything in all the Dream.”

The absolute conviction with which he spoke rattled Naia, made her hunger for something— anything —that unshakable. It was the very thing she’d longed for, this living devotion that still shone in Aleksi’s eyes.

He kissed her hand again, this time with finality, and released her. “Good night. Do try to get some sleep, Naia.”

With that, he left. Confused and flustered, Naia sat, tears burning her eyes, marveling at how cold the room seemed now, though the fire still blazed merrily in the hearth. Aleksi had spoken with such certainty, such boundless depth of emotion. And just one question kept circling in Naia’s mind, slipping away only to form again almost instantly.

What would it be like, to be loved like that?