13. The Making of a Child

Aknock sounded on Naia's bedchamber door.

"Lady Naia, Lord Solaris is here to see you."

Naia did not look up at Gianna, nor did she utter a response.

The door creaked. Footsteps shuffled. Gianna excused herself.

Solaris's broad figure stepped into the warm glow of the candles lit in her bedchamber.

Naia did not acknowledge him as she continued weaving seashells on a string at her vanity. Her drawers were full of them from her long walks along the infinite shores of Kaimana.It was the only thing she could think to ease her mind after her father left her bedchamber.

"Naia," Solaris said softly from beside her.

Naia's frustration climbed up the back of her neck, heating the tips of her ears. With clenched teeth, she asked, "What do you want?"

"I hope you understand?—"

"Leave." She had no interest in hearing his excuses.

"I am sorry, love."

Her grip on the seashell between her fingers tightened as she crammed the straw through the small hole. "Fine. I forgive you."

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Shut me out."

The seashell slipped from between her fingers.

She snapped her head up at him. The reflection of the moonlit sea streaming through her skylight cast across his pinched brow and the look of torment in his eyes. "You are a fool if you expect anything different after what happened."

He winced at the bite in her tone. "I cannot go against your mother."

Naia slammed the half-finished bracelet down on her vanity and ripped up. Seashells scattered over the tops of her feet and across the moonstone floor. "You have disobeyed her wishes for months! We are supposed to lie together, but we do not!"

His eyes hardened on her. "That is different."

"Forcing yourself upon me is no different from watching me drown, Solaris."

"We are gods, Naia, we cannot die," he said bitterly.

She balled her hands at her sides, fury warping her vision. "We may be immortal, but that does not mean we do not feel pain!"

"You are resilient." He looked right at her, but she had never felt so unseen by another.

She gulped down the lump spreading in her throat, sick of crying for one night. "Just because I am resilient does not mean I am made of stone! You stole the jar and abandoned me to face the consequences. Trust comes in more than one form, and it broke for me as you sat silently and watched when she punished me for something you did. I do not wish to have relations with a man who has no honor."

The hurt of her words flashed over his expression. Tension ground in his shoulders.

He shifted to face away from her, hands on his hips.

A long moment passed between them with heavy silence.

"You know what awaits us," he said, his voice quiet and a forced steady. "We are to be husband and wife?—"

A cynical sound scoffed out of her. "Let us not fool ourselves into thinking we are in love. Until our eight-hundredth birthday, let us live our own lives."

Solaris studied her, and she knew he was trying to search past her spitefulness to figure out if she'd meant what she'd said.

Tears stung the back of Naia's nose, but she kept her mouth set in a tight line.

He'd always worn a softness each time his eyes fell upon her, but that familiar softness slowly disappeared as his lips thinned.

"Very well, love." His tone was stiff, cutting. "If that is what you truly wish, then so be it."

He whipped around and stormed out of her bedchamber.

The following month,Marina left Kaimana.

To become the next High Goddess of Night, Naia had overheard the servants whispering in the hall that morning.

Naia sought solace in an abandoned cove with her father. A place they'd snuck off to for centuries to watch the lanterns stream across the sky, set free in the sea by the mortals every year during the Summer Solstice Festival.

Naia stepped off the cobblestone road barefoot and into the grass. There was a path paved by her and her father's footsteps alone.

She found him lying on his back beneath a breadfruit tree, his arms lazily propped behind his head as he peered up at the sea. Large bull sharks filled the sky, a bed of slick, pearl-gray bellies. This time of year, hundreds of the magnificent creatures migrated to prepare for mating season.

Naia took the spot beside him, shifting around in the sand until she was comfortable. Salt water and her father's floral fragrance hung in the air.

She peeked over at him. Today, tiny pink fringed petal blossoms lay throughout his dark strands. They were one of his favorites he referred to as dianthus. A type of flower he'd often grown in Marina's hair when she was a child. Too prideful to ask, she'd always pluck one from his locks and admire it. Father would smile and with a small flutter of his wrist, dozens of them bloomed throughout Marina's updo.

Naia bit at the inside of her cheek, wondering where her little sister had gone off to. How did one become strong enough to win against a High Deity?

"Do you happen to know where Marina went?" she asked.

Her father's eyes remained closed with his expression arranged peacefully. "Becoming a High Goddess will require intelligence, strength, and worshipers. I am sure she traveled to the Mortal Land to spread word of her name."

Naia wormed the tip of her fingers into the cool granules of sand, her eyes tracking a smaller bull shark wading through the mass of larger ones. "Do you miss it?"

She had heard the stories of her father from the gossip of servants and guards. Vale, the High God of Nature—how his tears sprouted trees, his laughter painted fields with wildflowers. He roamed the Mortal Land, decorated islands and mountains in groves and tails of golden grass.

Supposedly, it was his generosity to mortals that imprisoned him in Kaimana—for turning rotten soil rich, making it capable of harvest; for splitting apart a mountain to divide villages at war. As the humble word of his name spread, the more infuriated the gods became, their names gradually becoming forgotten.

Despite his fame, Naia never had the courage to request hearing the stories from him directly. Occasionally, a look of dissonance surfaced in his eyes. Some things were better laid to rest.

"I miss freedom," he answered. "I've never much enjoyed remaining in one place."

How maddening it must've been for him to stay put for so long. If he ever had a chance to leave, she wanted him to take it, but she had a feeling he would never do so when she could barely protect herself.

"Father," she said in a low voice. "I'm deeply sorry I cannot stand up for myself."

"You need to say no such thing. It is me, darling, who is sorry." He sat up and reached inside the pocket of his trousers beneath his emerald cloak.

She sat up along with him, intrigued.

He handed her a hairpin with a golden butterfly on its end.

She gaped at it, shaking her head. "What is this for?"

"A gift for you." He stuck his arm out further, gesturing for her to take it. "Wren is its name."

Naia accepted the delicate ornament, running its ornate chained tassels delicately through her fingers. "Why did you name your hairpin?"

"Because Wren is a special hairpin." Her father leaned closer and breathed on the butterfly, the warm air moistening the skin of her hands.

A squeal leaped from Naia as its glossy wings fluttered to life.

Father laughed. "Wren found me during my travels—landed right on my shoulder. I was often lonely, and Wren never left my side."

Wren's wings glided in a slow, mesmerizing motion, wandering down her thumb. The sensation of its tiny legs tickled her arm. "I don't understand. Why is it a hairpin now?"

"A butterfly's lifespan is an average of four weeks, therefore naturally, Wren began to fade. I was perturbed by their small frame of life, and I no longer wished to walk my path alone." He exhaled a long breath. "I turned Wren into a relic to keep forever."

"You made a relic to sate your loneliness?"Naia giggled.

"Yes, I did."

Naia studied her father's face, her smile withering to the visible signs of his sadness—the puddled look in his eyes, the small smile drawn across his mouth.

"Wren is yours now. To protect you when I cannot. You must call out its name if you need help. Do you understand?"

Humiliation had heat branding her cheeks, stiffening the muscles in her shoulders. "You believe I am so incapable of protecting myself that you feel the need to give me a weapon?"

"There is nothing wrong with relying on a little help from those you trust. Nobody, not even High Deities, can do everything alone. Consider Wren your first companion."

Her heart warmed, his words draining away her self-doubt. She could still be strong, just in a different way than most.

Wren crawled down to the back of her hand, crossing over the mountains of her knuckles.

The hairpin was a piece of her father she could keep with her forever.

She smiled, looking up at him. "Thank you, Father. I'll cherish Wren always."

With the flick of his wrist, a dahlia sprouted from behind her ear. She brought her fingers to its velvety-soft petals. "I am not a child anymore, Father. You do not have to?—"

"No matter how old you become, Naia, I will always grow you flowers." The sunlight feathered around him, and the breeze swept his strands off to the side of his forehead. "I love you, darling, deeper than the earth itself."

With Wren tuckedin the braid of her silver hair, Naia and her father made their way back to the palace.

A minute into eating their dinner and a game of chess in the great hall—a favorite game of theirs—Mira summoned him to the throne room.

It was precisely how Naia ended up sitting across from the triplets while finishing her meal.

The topic of conversation amongst the palace walls was of Solaris's arrival. The servants scurrying in and out of the hall whispered about it. The few relatives filling the seats several tables over mentioned it. Naia could hardly believe a month had gone by since their unsettling confrontation in her bedchamber.

Astrid clucked her tongue. "It's been weeks since Lord Solaris was last in the kingdom. Doesn't make much sense when you think about it. Once properly screwed, all men have a single focus."

Naia continued eating her buttered sourdough, as if she had not heard Astrid's lewd comment.

"The servants gossip keeps me entertained, dear sister. They say Solaris enters your bedchamber at night and surfaces in the early morning hours," Astrid continued in a musing, jeering tone. "Keeping a man satisfied is an arduous task to do. Though I do it extremely well, so I would not know what the silent sting of rejection is like."

Naia flashed her eyes up onto Astrid, her cheeks burning. "I do not expect him to live in Kaimana to worship my vagina."

Vex, sitting beside Astrid, spat his wine out from snickering. "It seems you've hit a nerve in our dear sister, Astrid."

A wicked smile stretched across Astrid's mouth. "Lord Solaris is an attractive man with a young appetite. You do not think he is loyal to only you, do you?"

Naia's heart stuttered. Imagining him with someone else made her frown. Not because she was jealous, but because it seemed like ages since they'd had a proper conversation. She hated how she missed his company after everything.

Mockery swirled in Vex's eyes. "Perhaps if you had more practice, you could keep him in your bed."

"Or maybe it is that she does not know how to properly fuck," Malik suggested.

Naia's gaze snapped over to him.

He leaned back in his chair, his arm coming up to rest along the back edge as his eyes met hers.

She held them, hoping to squash his cunning attitude like a bug, but the deeper she stepped into them, fear prickled down her spine.

Malik had an infatuation with murdering small wild animals since he was old enough to walk.

He was a middle god of slaughter—born without a conscience.

Naia gripped the end of her fork to keep from jabbing it into his neck and shoveled flaky tilapia into her mouth.

Vex shrugged."Or she is a prude."

"Being a prude and not knowing how to fuck are vastly different." Astrid dipped her chin, looking at Naia through silver lashes. "Do you need a demonstration, my dear sister?" Her elbows propped on the table, the position pushing her breasts together, luring in any pair of eyes. "I would be happy to show you."

As a middle goddess of beauty and seduction, it was Astrid's specialty. Often skimping around the palace in revealing gowns, on the laps of a new deity every night; tempting the married and toying with mortals. Astrid had created a name for herself as the Temptress of Kaimana.

With Vex, a middle god of beauty as well, they were a frightening pair. They could wreck kingdoms and conquer lands with nothing but their flawless faces and devious ways.

Naia rose from the table.

If she sat with Astrid for another minute, it would end with her sister peeling shards of the table's stone from her face.

"Thank you for your words of advice." Naia bowed her chin in goodbye before leaving. Her breakfast churned aggressively in her stomach, threatening to climb its way back up as Astrid's vulgarity stuck with her.

As Naia took her usual path through the courtyard, she reflected on her discomfort from the conversation. Not because it had to do with Solaris, but with fucking. The way Astrid spoke of sex was erotic and meaningless. A form of mere pleasure and entertainment.

When Naia fantasized of sex, it was sensual, vulnerable; to express her love for the other person in ways words could not.

She longed to find someone to love, to be loved by; someone who she could pour out her deepest parts with; someone she never had to second guess; who would stand up for her when she needed it, who looked at her as if she were made up of the sun.

Naia believed her person was out there somewhere, waiting for her.

Naia remainedin the palace library with stacks of books for the rest of the day. Her solace of dusty pages and creased spines; a steaming cup of chamomile tea under the amber hue candlelight, reading of the Mortal Land—cultures and countries, wars and governments, science and religion, landscapes and all the animals it housed.

It was a dream of hers to walk on mortal soil. Prior to her younger days, when her father first told her of it, a compulsion sat behind her sternum to go. She had no clue where, but she knew she did not belong beneath the sea. Something was waiting for her above.

She was nose-deep into the medical studies of their mortal flesh—how when it was injured, it took weeks, or even months, to mend itself; how some could be fatal and kill them. She learned of medicines and individuals, known as doctors, who could heal their wounds and broken bones with nothing but knowledge and tools. Mortals' perseverance utterly fascinated her, regardless of how frail they were as a species.

Naia was grateful for her immortality. It was a privilege not to live in a constant state of worry that she would wake up and discover her organs had shut down for some unknown cause. How were mortals not eaten up with paranoia each day? It was puzzling how much could inflict such substantial damage on the vessels carrying them through life.

She took a sip of her lukewarm tea when a gust pushed through her hair.

A familiar twinge of power crackled in the air, sharpening Naia's senses. She was no longer alone.

Naia lowered her tea back onto the table beside the leather-bound settee she was curled up on.Straight ahead, in the shadows between the aisle of the floor-to-ceiling bookcases, Mira stood with Solaris at her side.

They stepped into the light of the room. The air solidified in Naia's lungs.

She gauged them both closely.

Mira was in front of Solaris, the sharp glint of her pale eyes shining in the candlelight as she glared at Naia.

Solaris stood with his head down, avoiding Naia's eyes.

Given the time of the month it was, Naia could assume why Mira had appeared with Solaris. Dread gripped her by the throat. By Solaris's defeated disposition, somehow Raksa had figured out they'd been tricking him when they were supposed to be laying together.

Naia shut the book in her lap and lifted from the settee, spine straight to combat the pull in her body, begging her to run away. She refused to cower and give Mira satisfaction.

Squaring a look at her, Naia asked, "And if I do not wish to lie with him?"

Mira's lips, painted the color of a plum, quirked. "What makes you think you have a choice?"

Naia ground her jaw. "It is my body."

"Your body was brought into this world by me," Mira stated, matter of fact.

Naia scoffed, her chest tightening. "Are you implying that because you gave me life, I am owned by you?"

"Precisely."

Resentment echoed in the hard strum of Naia's heartbeat. The back of her nose burned, and against her will, her vision blurred with tears.

"And if I do not?" She forced out the words through a steel voice.

Mira cocked her head, the gesture patronizing. The movement clinked the jewels weaved throughout her silver strands. "Then I will make you."

Defeat gutted Naia with all the gruesome ways Mira could force her to lay with Solaris if she refused. Resistance would only bring more trauma and pain upon them.

Naia flicked her gaze to Solaris, analyzing his subdued, obedient demeanor, and the dissociated glaze in his eyes. Mira had sucked his soul dry somehow.

Naia walked the small distance to him, mimicking her father's elegant composure and grace. Crying and fighting would only prolong the situationand give Mira an excuse to belittle her.

Solaris watched her carefully, his eyes full of reservations.

Naia grabbed his hand. It was like holding a river stone that had scorched beneath the summer sun. She had no desire to touch him, to give him this part of herself, but he was still the boy she'd known since they were children. Regardless of his failures, he had a good heart, and for now, it had to be enough.

Solaris regarded her with a tense expression, reluctant to reciprocate her touch. Something about it reminded her of a child. How she'd watched the children in the village look up at their mothers when they were told to do something they did not want to.

What had she and Solaris done to deserve such an insufferable life? It was not fair. Whichever way Naia looked at it, she couldn't fathom the reason or purpose of their lives. Mortals with their glass shells of skin found reasons to live every day. What was the point of immortality when her fate was an eternity of misery?

With trembling lips, Naia nodded once to Solaris, giving him consent.He hesitated, his gaze flicking over Naia's head onto Mira.

Naia knew she would not leave until she saw the act for herself.

Bile pushed up Naia's throat as she planted her palm on Solaris's warm chest, easing him until his back met the bookcase.

His gaze fell onto her, apprehensive. I don't want to do this, it said.

"It is just us," she whispered.

He cupped her cheek, anguish in the trace of his touch. "I apologize, love."

In his words, she heard the brutal, torturous mutual acceptance.

Solaris kissed her, and Naia floated somewhere far away. Far from the feel of his hands pulling up her velvet gown and finding purchase on the backs of her thighs.

He hauled her up and spun them both around. Her shoulder blades pressed against the spine of the books.She forced her eyes shut to avoid the sight of Mira standing in the shadows, watching.

Solaris trailed his lips down her jawline to her collarbone.

"Do you want me to keep going?" she felt him murmur against her skin.

She knew what he was asking. His intention was to prepare her body, but, in a twisted sense, Naia looked forward to the physical pain promised. The body can only tolerate one form of pain. She'd read less than a few minutes ago in her book. A pain that would take place of the misery hacking through her chest.

Naia did not approve of the hatred flooding her system, making a home in her. She needed to focus on something else; to deaden her fury, and the dangerous desire to burn Kaimana and everything belonging to Mira to ash.

"No."

Solaris unbuttoned his trousers and drove into her.

She bit down on her lip to smother her cry from the sting between her legs. The sudden invasion stiffened her body against him, around him.

All her confidence and grace she called on previously drained away as her brain processed they were joined—during a day of her fertility.

Solaris's mouth settled beside her ear; his breath uneven as his thrusts quickened.

She wept silently with her face smothered in the crevice of his shoulder. A tremor wracked through him, and his weight grew languorous against her.Warm fluid oozed down the inside of her thigh as her legs shook.

She held herself up by her elbows on the bookshelf. He removed himself from her and stepped away to give her space.

Naia glanced into the shadows behind Solaris. Mira was gone.

With that knowledge, Naia's knees gave way, and she curled in on herself, her forehead pressed onto the cool floor.

"I don't want a child," it left her in a sob.

Solaris kneeled. He did not offer a soothing hand on her back or try to lift her into a hug. "I do not wish for a child either. Not like this."

The gentleness of his voice was a blazing wind to the inferno of her emotions, heightening her rage.

She lifted her head sharply to look at him through her damp eyelashes.Red warped her vision. "Then why don't you ever say anything? You are mute! Always!"

She got onto her feet, ignoring the raw ache between her legs. He stood along with her, and she shoved him into the bookcase. "You do what they ask of you! Right or wrong, it does not matter! Why don't you ever speak up?"

His hands fisted, pulling the muscles down his arms taut, and he kept his face positioned at an angle, as if he tried to physically deflect her verbal attack.

The insides of her thighs rubbed together as she backed away, her skin sticky and a reminder of how a child could be forming in her womb at that moment.

The library walls felt as if they were collapsing and crashing in on her. Her breath grew ragged, and she ran her hands through her hair, shaking her head in denial.

"I will not become pregnant. I refuse."

She would mix tonics, seek an herbalist, or find somewhere to purchase the tea she overheard the servants speaking about.

"I will do whatever it is you ask," Solaris's voice was hard, but Naia could hear the quivering beneath it. "But you and I both know if you do those things, Mira will find out and her punishment will be crueler than anything she has ever done to you."

He was right, and she hated the glaring defeat she felt because of it—like a cornered animal, trapped with nowhere to run to.

"Don't pretend as if you care!" Centuries of spite foamed in her mouth as she snapped at him. "We are gods, remember? No matter how she punishes me, I cannot die."

Before he had time to react to his own words spit back in his face, Naia stormed out of the library.

High Goddess of Fate, she prayed, please do not force this upon me.