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Part one
Step into the Darkness
1
THE GOD OF DEATH AND CURSES
The Present
The dreadful day had arrived.
“Are you excited about your wedding, Lady Naia?” The servant stuck decorative pins in Naia’s hair; each stab a reminder of what was to come. “Lord Solaris will make a wonderful husband, don’t you think?”
Naia sat on a cushioned chair in the middle of her bedchamber, purposely avoiding her reflection in her vanity mirror. “I can barely contain my enthusiasm,” she replied with a fair amount of dry sarcasm in her tone.
The servants worked quietly around her. One for each finger on her hand, brushing strokes of gold onto her fingernails. Two pinning her hair up off her neck. One at each of her feet. All faces she recognized but could recite nothing of importance regarding them as individuals.
She’d avoided growing close to them. They were easily replaceable, and their friendship would only bring her more heartache. Yet, she had an urge to confide in them, in hopes it would release the knot in her chest.
“You look beautiful, Lady Naia.” Another servant stepped back to assess the blush on Naia’s cheeks. Judging by the lilt of adoration in her tone, she genuinely meant the compliment. All Naia heard was pity. “The most beautiful goddess in the kingdom.” The servant stepped out of the way of the mirror for Naia to assess her own appearance.
The smallest motion of her head sent the jewels dangling in her hair, making her feel like a child’s toy.
A light groan escaped her. The glossy glitter over her eyelids made the green of her irises more vibrant, like a dewy forest in the morning hours. The golden jewels in her hair stood out against the metallic hue of her silver strands. She hardly looked like herself.
Among the ornaments, though, her butterfly hairpin held the most elegance—a small, but significant detail she was proud of. Shiny, refined golden wings, and dainty, chained tassels she found comfort in when they brushed the side of her neck.
Gifted to her by her father, Naia carried the hairpin with her everywhere. Something the servant must’ve noted and thought to include while doing her hair. The kind gesture reminded Naia of a precious past servant from her younger days.
Naia rolled her lips to distract herself from the familiar bleak-filled ache settling in her bones and adjusted her gown.
A gown Mira had chosen. Jeweled-tone blue velvet, embroidered with brass-colored flowers down the long sleeves. The fit hugged Naia’s shapely hips, accentuating her curves in a manner that made her uncomfortable. Naia traced the low-cut neckline, giving nothing away to the eye, but exposing enough skin on her diaphragm to thrill imaginations.
“It is almost your birthday,” the same servant said, clearly determined to strike up conversation.
Naia flung her gaze to the clock on her bedside table. “It’s not midnight yet.”
Time slipped away like a cloud moving from the sun. In precisely one hour, she would enter her eight-hundredth year.
She gritted her teeth, snapping her glare down onto the servant massaging her foot like it was the earth’s toughest clay. The invasion of her personal space had her fisting her hands on the arms of the chair.
Unable to take another second, Naia snatched her foot away. “Enough.”
She rose from her chair and dismissed them all with a wave of her hand. “You are all free to go.”
One by one, with their heads bowed, they scurried through the amethyst-cut doors of her bedroom. A rainbow pattern from the skylight reflected on the crystal exterior.
Something beautiful. A rarity within the walls of Mira’s palace.
The great hall would be lavishly decorated for the event. Satin draperies woven through the vaulted ceiling. The crystal walls shining fervently under the twinkling lights. And all the deities invited crammed into one room.
Naia’s chest constricted.
She glanced over at the clock again.
It’s almost time.
Naia had planned this night months ago as a last resort. Out of sheer desperation.
