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She would accept whatever consequences came with her actions.
Ronin was right. If she knew what was best, she would have remained on that couch wrapped in his jacket and awaited his return.
Sitting on his balcony with a plate of cake in her lap and a beer beside her, with him an arm’s length away, the two of them laughing at some ridiculous conversation was the only place she wanted to be right now.
A steady click of Finnian’s eyes was all it took to send the daggers flying. A true testimony to his title as a High God.
I am not afraid of pain.
Her body stiffened.
They sailed closer and closer?—
Naia slammed her eyes shut and raised her arms to protect herself.
The fragments collided with a solid surface, like bullets striking metal. Each piece shattered.
“You gods have a terrible way of handling disputes. You’re family, for fuck’s sake.”
Ronin.
Naia’s eyes shot open. Relief swept over her, slowing down the frantic beating of her heart.
As she gaped up at his backside before her, she couldn’t deny the colorful rays of warmth streaking through her. She was irrevocably happy to see him. Ronin had crossed over into Finnian’s territory for her, and she wanted to scold him and hug him for it all at once.
She rotated her head in search of Theon.
A pack of ghouls constrained the god onto the ground, their hands full of chunks of his intestines as they shoved the pink, worm-looking organ into their mouths.
Naia’s stomach heaved at the gory sight.
While Theon was a god capable of healing, it did nothing to dull the suffering he endured.
Ronin turned his head and grimaced at the scene. He lowered his hand to his side, allowing the stream of blood from the cut of his palm to flow freely onto the floor. Same as the one he’d made on his palm back in Alke Hall, this cut was inches deep and oozing.
Naia’s breath went short. Tingles pricked her cheeks, down her neck at the sight of the red liquid slithering across the stone, like a web of arteries.
Ronin’s fingers twitched, and the blood heeded his command. It lifted itself, creating a dense thicket of jagged briars that skewered the ghouls feeding on Theon.
Naia looked straight up at the back of Ronin’s head, and fixated her attention on each strand of his dark hair, disheveled and half tied back, the bottom layer hugging his nape. Sweat beaded in her palms, down her spine to the stench of copper invading the air. She swallowed. Squeezed her fingers into her palms. Breathed.
How did he find me if it wasn’t Theon’s doing?
As if her body knew before she did, her hand instantly found the bracelet he’d placed on her wrist.
She looked down at it, noticing the crystal in its center shining brightly.
“Twice in one day you enter my territory,” Finnian responded coolly. “I’ll have to be more creative on what I send to wreak havoc across Tempest this time around.”
Naia was astounded by her brother’s talent in adjusting the volume of his voice, even though he couldn’t hear out of one ear.
“Send whatever the hell you want,” Ronin said, his voice hard. “They won’t cross over into my side.”
Finnian slightly angled his head to open the range of hearing for his left ear. The movement was barely there, but Naia did not miss it.
“Coming into my hall was one thing, but into my home? We’ve rivaled for years. Since you were a child. Yet, you’ve not once stepped foot into my lane. You are many things, Mr. Kahale, but disrespectful is not one of them. No matter how much you loathe me.”
“You’re right,” Ronin said. “But I know you just as well, and something told me you’d lead your own flesh and blood into a lion’s den.”
