Page 125 of The Goddess Of


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Marina.

Frantically, Naia wrestled her arm free and bolted for Kaleo. Her other hand reached for Wren in her pocket.

Shadows whirled and churned viciously at Naia’s sides. Fingers wrapped around her arms and forced her down. She screamed. Her elbows hit the floor.

“It’s been a while,” Marina said in a silky tone. “Let me introduce you to my nightrazers.”

Naia kicked and thrashed as the nightrazers’ corpse-like hands burrowed into the flesh of her back, holding her in place.

Blood dribbled down Kaleo’s chin.

A paralyzing dread chilled Naia’s bloodstream. She fought to free her arms and reach for him, as if she could grasp ahold of his soul and keep it within the chambers of his skin.

His gaze remained fixed on her, eyes glistening. A smile lifting the corners of his mouth, drawing creases around his eyes.

Her heart sank into her stomach. She knew what that smile meant. He’d worn it many mornings in the kitchen while he listened to her rant when she got the proofing method wrong on the dough and had to start over again. The first time he murmured I love you when he thought she had been too immersed in a book to hear him. She said it back later that night when they lay in his bed, catching their breaths.

The nightrazer ripped its lodged arm from Kaleo’s back. His eyelids fluttered. Blood splotches soaked through the layers of his coat, and he swayed on his feet before crashing into the floor.

Naia shrieked out his name, flailing her arms against the cutting grip of the nightrazers.

Marina sauntered to stand between Naia and Kaleo, her black heels stepping in the pool of crimson. Shadows danced and licked around her.

She kneeled beside Naia. The motion sliding her long satin strands over her shoulder. “It seems Father still finds a way to defend you as he rots in Lord Cassian’s prison. I should’ve known you were on his island when I could not find you anywhere else.”

Naia could barely register her words as she gasped for air, her lungs aching from the combination of erratic breaths and uncontrollable sobs. “Ma-Marina, please. Fix him. Don’t let him die. I will go back with you. Pl-please.”

Marina’s fingers dug into Naia’s jaw, forcing Naia to look at her. Her gaze was as sharp and deadly as Naia remembered. Eyes that held centuries of animosity Naia could not make sense of.

“For centuries, I’ve watched you follow Father like a shadow,” Marina sneered. “And look where such a road brought you, dear sister. Condemned to experience the same pathetic fate as him. You disgust me. Let this be your punishment for your selfish decision to abandon Mother.”

Naia’s ears rang. Her mouth stuttered open with silent words. None of which she could push out of her throat. The air in her lungs constricted. She shook her head with an unwelcoming defeat fizzling through the chill of her shock.

No, no, no.

Marina released Naia’s jaw and stood. “Burn it down,” she commanded her nightrazers.

The words knocked a life-force back into Naia, causing her to jerk in the nightrazers’ hold. She wanted to give Kaleo a proper burial. To make sure he was put to rest.

More nightrazers morphed from the ebony fog filling the inn’s lobby, obscuring Naia’s view. It fluttered over her skin and excavated into her pores like rustling insects.

“Finnian, middle god of witchcraft and sorcery!” His title left Naia’s lips in a panicked breath. “Come to me!”

The harrowing haze filled her nostrils and coated her throat. She coughed against the raw and scratchy sensation. “Finnian! Come to me!”

A bright flicker of vibrant orange lit through the darkness, devouring Kaleo’s corpse. The excruciating squall of heat stung her eyes.

“Finny!” Mucus and tears ran down her face as she shrieked his name.

No! I will not leave him?—

Blackness swallowed her whole.

Chains of Confinement shackled Naia’s wrists. The same relic used to escort her father out of Kaimana. She had no interest in knowing how such a thing ended up in Mira’s possession.

The chains held her suspended to the ceiling of a hall in the lower ground of the palace. The small flame in the sconces did little to dispel the desolate chill draping the room.

Mira’s whip hissed through each lash, striking between Naia’s shoulder blades. One laceration after another hacking flesh and muscle to the bone.

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