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Some have referred to the goddess as ruler of Rahvekya, but nothing could be further from the truth. A queen, even a benevolent one who wants only the best for her people, still controls what they do. How they do it.

The goddess was never this island’s ruler.

She is its mother.

from the unpublished papers of Rahvekyan High Priestess Omira

The Seneschal of Akeisa was practically humping Naia’s leg.

Aleksi could hardly blame him for his interest. She’d already deftly and decisively demonstrated her abilities to the people of this island. Of course a man as obviously ambitious as Sir Jaspar would not be able to resist her. Not when an alliance with a god could elevate his entire family for generations.

And the fact that Naia was also beautiful certainly did not hinder Jaspar’s regard.

Down, boy, Aleksi thought ruefully. Then he glanced over at Einar, who was absolutely plotting the man’s untimely demise, and resolved to intervene. Naia was handling the handsome young seneschal’s attention with aplomb, but if Einar threatened him—or worse —

“Here we are,” Jaspar announced. “The Lover’s chambers. Now, if you’ll follow me this way, Captain Einar ...”

The man undoubtedly planned to unload his unwanted cargo, then take his sweet time showing Naia to her room—while possibly attempting to coax from her an invitation into its intimate confines.

I don’t think so. “Where are their rooms?” Aleksi asked, deliberately inserting an edge of steel into his otherwise easy voice.

Jaspar blinked. “Down the hall, just around the corner. But—”

“We can find our way.” Naia dropped a low curtsy. “Thank you for your assistance, Jaspar.”

To his credit, he recovered quickly. “I am at your disposal.” He took her hand and kissed the back of it. “Night falls so early this time of year that we dine at the eighth chime. May I claim a seat next to yours?”

Naia demurred. “The seating arrangements are not mine to dictate.”

“Surely you could—”

“We’ll see you then.” Aleksi clapped the man’s shoulder and spun him to face back down the corridor. “And trust that you’ll handle everything to your mistress’s satisfaction.”

Sir Jaspar obviously wanted to linger, but his manners and position overcame his reticence. He dropped one last short bow, then turned to walk away.

“Was that necessary?” Naia asked. “I was managing him.”

“Yes, but now you don’t have to,” Aleksi shot back. “And we don’t have to watch him drool on you, so everyone wins.”

He pushed through the heavy double doors and into his assigned chamber. It was spacious, featuring ornate carved stone walls and marble floors. It could have been a cold, sterile space, if not for the large stonework fireplace, the thick rugs, and the richly woven tapestries that hung in smooth spaces between the wall carvings.

Alcoves were set into the far walls, little spaces dedicated to activities like reading and bathing. Folded screens sat beside each one, barriers that could be set out for the sake of privacy. Even the bed, a monstrous, fur-laden affair that took up nearly a third of the cavernous room, had curtains hung around the massive frame that could be dropped to enclose it.

A necessity, since the windows were bright and wholly uncovered. Aleksi stepped closer to the nearest one, reaching out toward it, and shivered when his fingertips brushed ice instead of glass.

Was the climate of the island an artifact of Gwynira’s icy powers? Or did its condition predate her arrival? He’d have to ask. The response could do much more than answer his query. The real, valuable truths were always to be found in the shape of a response, in the precise ways people chose to convey information.

“This is cozy,” Naia observed. “Ice and all.”

Einar hovered just inside the closed door, his face still tense. “I don’t like that they’ve separated us.”

Aleksi raised an eyebrow. “I wasn’t aware that you were prepared to share a bed with either of us.” A lie, but only a small one.

If anything, Einar’s glower deepened. “I don’t trust that seneschal. If you think he won’t find an excuse to visit Lady Naia in the middle of the night ...”

Her laughter rang out like a bell. “If he were so brazen as to attempt such a thing, he might find his attentions met with cold steel in place of a warm embrace.”

“As I should hope to see any unwanted advances met.” But Aleksi shook his head. “No, he wouldn’t dare. Naia has power and connections. The qualities he most covets about her—aside from your loveliness, of course, my dear—are precisely the ones that render coercion impractical. He shall have to charm her instead.”

A blush colored her cheeks. “You mean he shall have to try . I am not easily won.”

Einar stared at her so long that her blush deepened. Then he looked back to Aleksi. “I still don’t like it. I don’t like the way this palace feels.”

“Nor should you, I fear.” Aleksi gestured to a plush sofa in one corner. It was shaped like a nearly complete circle, with a small stone table built into one end. “Sit.”

Naia slid onto the cushions, tucking her legs beneath her. Einar perched gingerly on the edge, boots planted firmly on the floor and his elbows resting on his knees.

Aleksi remained standing. “The Empire is in shambles. You both know that. Hell, you saw it after the final battle. People lost, frightened. Awakening to the Dream or the Void with no idea what was happening to them, much less how to manage it. Absolute, utter chaos. That is what Ash, Sachi, and Zanya have gone to deal with. And, in doing so, they’ve left Akeisa to us.”

“To you,” Naia corrected.

“No, to us .” Aleksi finally sat, dropping to face his two companions. “It is true that I represent the High Court, but your influence here cannot be overstated. You’ve faced Gwynira in battle, and now you’ve seen the respect she affords that experience. Beyond that, you are both creatures of the sea. You belong here in a way I never will. So when I say us , trust that I mean it.”

Einar shifted uncomfortably on the velvet. “This sort of thing ... Diplomacy? It isn’t one of my skills. And considering the way most Imperial nobles feel about me, I might do more harm here than good. I’m better as a bodyguard.”

“The nobles don’t have to love you. In fact, it’s better that they don’t.” Aleksi opened the decanter that sat on the stone table and sniffed it. Water. He poured three glasses and handed one to Einar. “ I’m here to be liked. You’re here to be feared. Not too much, mind, but just enough. Sorin has told them all that we’re weak. Part of our mission here will be to correct that misapprehension.”

Naia looked thoughtful as she accepted her glass. “Sachi said that Gwynira helped her when the Betrayer was holding her captive, but only once she realized that Sachi wasn’t soft.”

“Of course. She was hedging her bets. It would have done her no good to needlessly expose herself as Sorin’s enemy.” Aleksi drained his glass. “She had to be sure. Just as she must be sure now.”

Einar huffed and drank half his water in one gulp. “Well, if we need strength, I’ll just lurk behind you both and scowl.” A sudden, wicked smile curved his lips. “I know how to play the monster.”

“ Careful. ” Naia’s voice was singsong as she stretched out one leg and nudged Einar with her foot. “Gwynira might take a shine to you.”

“Ha!” Einar’s hand shot out to catch Naia’s ankle. “Something tells me I’m not the type to melt the Ice Queen’s heart.”

“Then perhaps I should test those chilly waters.”

Her words echoed strangely, and Aleksi’s vision blurred. He blinked, but it didn’t help. Naia and Einar kept up their banter, their flirtatious words distant, almost beyond his perception.

Because all he could perceive was light , a dazzling array of colors that swirled around the room. He saw lingering hints of the room’s previous occupants—Ash’s earthy red mingled with Sachi’s glittering rainbow and Zanya’s darker hues, three vastly different auras that shouldn’t have melded together but did , and in such gorgeous harmony.

And right in front of him, so vivid it almost hurt his eyes, blue . Naia’s lighter tint, warm shallows and gentle waves. And Einar, deep and cold, the darkest abyss. A shade that Aleksi had never seen before, in or out of the Dream, surrounded them both, hewing close, as if to block out the rest of the world.

Other colors seeped into his consciousness, rendered dull by lack of familiarity. A cluster of deep green, envy distilled into its purest, harshest form. A jovial pop of jonquil yellow. A bustle of cherry blossom pink too busy to be bothered.

“Aleksi?” Naia frowned. “Aleksi, are you—?”

The emotions hit him next, a tidal wave of nervousness and joy, melancholy and bone-deep fear. Love and desperation and hatred so intense that he was glad to be sitting, else his knees would have buckled. The room spun, and he shut his eyes tight against the dizzy whirl.

But it was the whispers that finally threatened to drive him into the darkness. Idle musings and secrets and wishes, silly fears and existential panic. Thoughts meant only to be entertained in the silence of the mind, never spoken aloud.

—what will I make for dinner—

—did she notice me—

—why would they—

Aleksi gritted his teeth as one vow rose above the rest, resonating with the fervent devotion of a prayer.

I will end them, this heart whispered. For the glory of the Empire.

Then it was over. The haze cleared, and the noise that filled Aleksi’s head subsided. Strong hands gripped his shoulders, and he opened his eyes to find Einar holding him upright, concern carving deep lines into his stony face.

Naia hovered just behind him. “Are you well?”

Aleksi unclenched his jaw. “Perfectly. Why do you ask?”

“Why do I ...?” Her eyes widened in disbelief. “Because you were swaying as if you were about to fall over. Einar had to catch you.”

Aleksi examined his empty glass. It was certainly possible that it was poisoned, or even another substance entirely, only masquerading as water. That might explain his momentary loss of control. But Einar and Naia had also partaken of it, and both seemed unaffected.

Which meant this wasn’t a problem with the drink. It was a problem with him .

He considered Einar and Naia. Though the haze that had blurred his vision had abated, they still seemed ... dark. Muted. The dark-blue velvet of Naia’s dress looked almost black now, as if the color had been leached from it.

“I’m tired,” he said finally. Truthfully. “The entire journey came as somewhat of a surprise, and I had not the time to properly prepare myself for it. I will be fine after a nap and a bath.”

Naia relented, but Einar released him with reluctance, both hands hovering for a moment on either side of Aleksi’s shoulders, as if poised to catch him again. “Are you sure?”

“Go,” Aleksi urged. “Dinner will come soon enough, and we have to be ready.”

Einar stepped back, still alert. When Aleksi didn’t immediately slump to the floor, the Kraken nodded shortly. “I’ll escort Lady Naia to her quarters.”

Naia gazed back at him over her shoulder, even as Einar guided her away with a protective hand at the small of her back. Aleksi managed to stay on his feet until the door finally closed behind them, and he felt free to collapse back to the sofa.

He had to consider the hard, cold facts of the situation. First, there had been the prick from the rose’s thorn—instead of healing immediately, it had taken hours—and now he’d experienced a loss of control. The former was concerning, but the latter ...

Aleksi did not lose control. The very core of who he was demanded absolute self-discipline. Love without consideration and restraint was not love; it was something dangerous, a viper waiting to strike. Not since the earliest days of his existence had he done anything so shameful as read people’s emotions without due cause, much less without meaning to do so in the first place.

But what did it mean? As far as he was aware, this had never come up amongst the members of the High Court, had never been an issue. Once they mastered their abilities and learned to govern themselves, it took a truly ruinous circumstance indeed to shatter that control.

No, Aleksi had never heard of anything like this before. But he understood intuitively, as only someone so centered in life as he was could, that these things were only a hint of what was to come. That they could and would get much, much worse.

He was sick.

He was ... fading, and fast.

He had never heard of this happening before because it never had . All members of the High Court knew what it was to have their power wax and wane with the passage of centuries, as the people’s beliefs either grew or subsided. Even as they evolved into something entirely new. But those changes were excruciatingly gradual, like a tree slowly adding ring after ring to its trunk as the years passed. Aleksi had never witnessed a sudden decline. And it begged the question: could a member of the High Court weaken and die this way, from illness rather than catastrophic injury?

He shook himself and poured another glass of water. What he’d suffered during the battle against Sorin, being torn away from the Dream? That had been catastrophic. But he’d assumed it had resulted only in damage to his psyche, an emotional and mental blow that he had to work through and overcome. And then it would heal.

A silly notion, when his very existence was based on the power of thought. Of the High Court, he alone had been born of emotion, and now it seemed he might die the same way. Suddenly, like a crop of wheat destroyed by a freak summer hailstorm. Like a child’s first cry also being its last.

Like a heart breaking.

It was uncharted territory, but that was fine with Aleksi. In a way, he had always stood apart, even amongst his fellow gods. He would navigate this new ending with as much grace as he could muster. With any luck, he could complete his mission and escape back to his villa before his decline became too marked to mask.

He didn’t want the world to see love die.