3. Kahale Residence

Naia peeled her eyes open.

She blinked, and her vision adjusted. A small, round-shaped face gawked down at her with dark eyes and a parted mouth full of purple metal wires across her teeth.

"You're finally awake." The little girl pulled back and sat on a chair beside the bed.

Naia registered the pillow underneath her head as she eyed the stranger. "Who are you?"

The girl tilted her head, the way Naia's youngest brother's bird used to do when it fixated curiously onto something roaming in the grass. "Akane," the little girl said. "Who are you?"

Naia flitted her eyes around the room filled with wicker furniture and open windows, inviting in a pleasant breeze. It was daylight, and the air was lighter than the density in Kaimana.

A rusty-colored water-filled bowl and a damp cloth were on the bedside table, and the last few seconds before everything went black rushed back to Naia.

She shot up, pulse jolting, and felt around the cotton material of her outfit with a peculiar pattern of smiling suns wearing sunglasses. Blood scorched her cheeks at the thought of that dreadful man changing her outfit.

"Those are my mom's pajamas. She changed your clothes. In case you were wondering. Not my uncle. She also cleaned you up." The little girl pointed her brightly orange painted fingernail to the bowl of dirty water.

"Where am I?" Naia asked.

Akane scooted up in her seat, her big, brown eyes scrutinizing Naia.

Naia leaned back, uncomfortable with the child invading her space.

"You're pretty," Akane said, as an observation rather than a compliment. "Why are you so pretty?"

Of course.She hadn't hidden her divinity.Between it being on full display and the comment she made about the man only being a mortal, it was no wonder he'd become suspicious of her during their encounter.

Naia clicked her tongue and crossed her arms, attempting to play it off. "I have an exceptional skin-care routine."

"And I have a personal hairstylist." Akane snorted. "You're not fooling me, lady."

Naia blinked at the little girl, baffled by her candor.

"It's also not nice to lie," Akane said. "My mom says it causes wrinkles. Not only that, but my uncle saved you when he could've just left you where he found you."

Naia's eyebrows shot up. "Where he found me?"

More like snuck up on her.

"Yeah, he could've just left you in the rainstorm." Akane tilted her head, the motion slipping pieces of her black hair over her cheek. "What were you doing out there in the storm, anyway?"

Naia grazed over her question and asked, "Could you kindly inform me of my location?"

"The Kahale residence," a deep voice replied from across the room.

Naia turned her head. The man leaned on the trim of the doorway, expression as smooth as a river stone. The length of his black hair sat above his shoulders, and half was pulled up with strands spilling in his face.

"And you are?" Naia squared him with a bold stare.

He had yet to answer the question—even with Wren's pointed edge at his throat.

"Akane," he said to the little girl. "Why don't you go grab her something from the kitchen?"

"We have some leftover onigiri?" Akane turned to look at Naia, waiting for some gesture of approval.

Naia had never heard of the dish, and Akane had pronounced the last syllable of the word with a different sound. Her tongue lightly tapped the roof of her mouth. Li.

They were bilingual. Fascinating.

Naia nodded slowly. "Um, all right."

Akane started towards the door."I'll be right back, Ms. Lady."

Naia turned her head to the man when Akane exited the room. "Onigiri?"

"Rice balls," he clarified.

"The language sounds…"

"From the northeast. It's where my mom's side of the family is from."

She'd read about all the different cultures of mortals. Nohealani Island was in the middle of the Kaimana Sea in western territory. Her curiosity flared with an intense desire to pick his brain. What sort of food do you eat? I've heard northeastern food is delightful. Can I hear you speak in your native language? Did you grow up speaking one language over the other?—

Stop it.

She rubbed back the loose hairs framing her face, rolling her lips.

Start with something smaller.

"What is your name?" she asked again. "Or shall I refer to you as ‘Man Who Crept in the Bushes'?"

One of his brows rose slightly, as if he found her snarky attitude amusing. "Ronin."

She found his name pleasant, easy on the ears. It fit his nonchalant aura, despite not knowing him well.

"What about you?" he asked. "‘Woman Who Carries a Weapon on Her'?"

A spark of panic shot through her.

She tossed the blankets off her legs and got to her feet. "Where is my hairpin?"

He reached inside the front pocket of his pants and held Wren up. "This?"

"Give it back at once!" Naia marched across the room and snatched Wren away.

Ronin smirked. "I see you're feeling better."

Given her height as a goddess, it surprised her to learn he was as tall as her. "How dare you take what is mine!"

He slipped his hands into his pockets. His movements weren't rushed, as if he didn't have any care over her tone. "If I wanted to take it, why would I have offered it up to you?"

Naia held Wren to her chest, her heartbeat reverberating against her curled fingers. It was in her nature to doubt sincerity, to believe Ronin withheld Wren as leverage or to sell. Mortals were constantly seeking relics and old treasures of the deities to use at their own disposal.

But as she studied Ronin's face, the fact of the matter was he'd helped her. Just as she'd asked before fainting, he took her somewhere else when he could've left her, and his act of kindness deserved at least a small portion of gratitude.

She dropped her arms back down to her sides, pressing her tongue against the inside of her teeth. "My name is Naia."

Something about revealing her name and his burning gaze made her acutely aware of how vulnerable she was in the situation.

She fidgeted with Wren in between her fingers as something to do, wishing she'd never left the bed. A wind of humiliation burned her insides, being indebted to another. It was why she avoided asking for help.

Naia averted her attention to the bowl on the bedside table and flicked her chin up at it. "May I ask what a bowl of filthy water is doing there?"

Ronin went for the chair Akane had sat in earlier.

Naia's gaze roamed down his baggy dark blue t-shirt and loose black pants to his slippers—fuzzy, bright pink with sparkles.She bit back her bottom lip to hide her treacherous grin.

"My sister, Yuki, is a doctor," Ronin explained. "She cleaned you up and got you a fresh set of clothes. I figured you would actually slit my throat if I took you to a hospital, considering it looked like you were running away from something."

The rusty colored water in the bowl on the bedside table was proof she'd bled. His sister must've been baffled to find no injuries on her.

She'd taken a nasty slam into a sea stack—courtesy of Mira's angry tide—giving her a gash on her temple and another below her ribcage. The injuries healed long before she found Ronin.

Naia lifted her chin and folded her arms, shielding herself from his watchful eyes. "I appreciate that."

"And I had just docked my dad's fishing boat," he said with his leg bouncing in a steady rhythm. "I was walking home when I found you. Not hiding in the bushes."

Naia's brow furrowed. "Fishing boat?"

"Yeah, my dad owned a fishing company before he passed away."

Naia analyzed his lithe build, arms and shoulders toned with muscles only natural physical labor could provide. Clearly, he was no stranger to operating a fishing boat.

The slight dip in his tone did not go unnoticed, nor did the note of tension as he spoke the word dad. It tempted her to ask him about their relationship. All for her greedy desire to resonate with someone.

Do you have a complicated relationship with one of your parents? Yeah, well, me too! Let's be friends.

Absolutely not.

Naia's grasp tightened around Wren, the edge of its wings pressing into her ribcage. "If you were on the water, did you get caught in the storm?"

A corner of his mouth tugged up. "Are you expressing concern for me?"

Naia felt every bit of his sly smirk swirling around in the bottom of her stomach as she gave him a flat look. "It's a shame it did not swallow you up."

He scratched his chin with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. "I wonder what caused such a random storm in the first place. Sure as hell wasn't on the radar."

She glared at him.

He raised his brows, holding her gaze with a challenge. Tell me your secrets, it said.

She unclenched her jaw and moved on. "Are there any nearby hotels?"

"Most hotels and lodging on the island will be booked up by tourists since the Summer Solstice Festival is today."

She had completely forgotten about the mortal celebration.

The Summer Solstice Festival was in honor of the High Goddess of the Sea. Come nightfall, the islanders would sacrifice their catches of the day and light up the sea's surface with floating lanterns. A celebration Mira would not risk ruining, because without the worship of the residents of Nohealani Island, her power would diminish.

Naia worked her hair up off her shoulders and spun it around her fingers.

Ronin continued to stare at her, studying her body language and tics, as if he tried to read her mind. His piercing gaze perturbed her for many reasons. The main one being she felt too exposed, and it made her hyper aware of her expressions, wary of giving away too much of herself.

She edged the sharp end of Wren through the bun weaved around her fingers to hold it in place, and then fixed her attention onto the metal bedpost, picking at its chipped white tip.

The festival would buy her the time she needed to figure out a route to Hollow City where Finnian lived. If Naia could make it to him, she would be safe.

Only it had been over a century since she last set foot on mortal soil. Times had changed. They had paved roads and vehicles now; technology and something called the internet. She was unaware of Hollow City's whereabouts since it didn't exist at the time. Not to mention, Naia needed money if she didn't want to hike to her destination. Which wasn't out of the question if she knew the direction to hike in.

A past punishment from Mira had left Finnian deaf in his right ear, rendering him unable to be summoned. Without communication, Naia would be forced to figure things out, alone.

"If you need a place to stay, you can crash here for a couple of days," Ronin said, as if he could overhear her torrential thoughts on the matter.

His offer was considerate, but would risk him and his family's safety. The deities sent after her wouldn't hesitate to harm mortals in their path.

Flecks of the white paint lodged underneath Naia's fingernail as she waved her hand in the air, gesturing to the space around her. "What kind of man allows a stranger to intrude in his home?"

Ronin leaned forward on his elbows and joined his hands. "Call it a gut feeling, but you strike me as harmless."

"May I remind you how I tried to slit your throat?" Naia pointed to the crusty scab on Ronin's neck, inches below his Adam's apple.

He gave a breathy laugh. "I don't think I'll be forgetting anytime soon."

"You strike me as careless."

"Will you bring me or my family any harm?"he asked in a more sincere tone.

With guilt blooming in her chest, she huffed, "No."Technically, it was not a lie. She would not harm them.

He relaxed back into his chair and rubbed his shoulder. "Then I have nothing to worry about."

Tension gathered behind her eyeballs, and she picked the pieces of paint out from underneath her fingernail to keep from rubbing them. Did he have to make taking advantage of him so easy?

Of course, she would stay in his home when she had nowhere else to go.Though a part of her wished he would throw her out instead of offering. Then she could curse him while sleeping out on the street.

Ronin stood up. "Well, glad to have you staying with us."

Naia narrowed her eyes. "Who is us?"

He paused in the middle of the room and glanced back at her. "My sister and niece live here."

"And you do not?"

"No, I live in Hollow City."

Naia pursed her lips to keep from laughing at the irony.

The city was a notorious spot for mages to live. From what she'd heard through her siblings who ventured to and from the Mortal Land, the population of mages made deities apprehensive. So much so, they avoided the place all together.

It was foolish to believe Ronin was a man who happened to find her in her time of need, who offered her a place to stay, and so happened to reside in the city she needed to go to. Fate had yet to grace her with such kindness. He had to have some sort of ulterior motive.

Are you a mage?She wanted to ask him. Mages regularly tangled with deity business, and Naia wouldn't put it past Mira to go so far.

The question sat on her tongue like an ice cube, but she refrained from asking, afraid he would counter with the one she had a feeling sat on his own tongue. Are you a goddess? What other explanation was there for the traces of blood on her skin without injuries, or her divinity on full display?

"When are you set to go back?" she asked.

A stiffness took over the easy-going disposition he carried in his shoulders. "A few days. Why do you ask?"

"I need to go to the city." She nibbled on her bottom lip, discomfort aching everywhere in her body. A loathing side-effect that came with relying on others. "May I travel with you?"

Ronin regarded her for a long second, his eyes flicking around her face, doing the cataloging thing. It only flared her uneasiness.

"Sure thing," he said. "I'll probably catch the ferry early in about two days. You down with that?"

She nodded, staring down at the tip of the bedpost where she picked at the chipping white paint on the metal.

"For now, we're going to the festival. You're more than welcome to join us."

She lifted her head, giving a small shrug. "I'll consider it."

Obviously, she would go. She'd been dying to experience the celebration from the mortal's perspective for centuries.

For the past century, each year, after a gaudy birthday event orchestrated by Mira in her great hall, Naia would surface from Kaimana in her shape-shifted form, hoist up on a sea rock—her fin grazing the water to fulfill the requirement of her curse binding her to Kaimana—and watch the mortals celebrate.

"I'll go find you something else to wear other than Yuk's ridiculous pajamas."

Naia's eyes followed the backside of his shoulders as he exited the room.

The tension in her muscles loosened, and she moved to the ajar door to close it.

She spun around, took in a deep, concentrating breath, and quickly cloaked her divinity.

Afterwards, she made her way to the other side of the room, the old wooden planks of the floor creaking underneath her feet as she did so, and peered out the open window. The sea was truly a stunning view from this perspective. An aquamarine marble surface cresting with waves, glittering beneath the sunlight as far back as the eye could see.

Ecstasy fluttered in her chest as she soaked in the view. The sea was in front of her, rather than above her, like a dome.

By a miracle, she'd escaped Kaimana.

At the price of a new curse.

A wave of restlessness washed over her. She inspected the inside of her palm—still free of Cassian's mark. For now.

Finnian will know what to do.

A knock sounded on the door.

Naia looked back to find Akane's head popping in. "May I come in?"

"Yes," Naia said.

The sunlight streaming in bounced off Akane's shiny black pigtails, and she wore a white t-shirt with a picture of a sparkly unicorn.

Akane handed Naia a clump of rice, shaped in a triangle. "Here you go."

Naia couldn't hide the dismay on her face when the rice stuck to her fingers, only being accustomed to feasts in Mira's great hall—entrees of braised seafood, roasted potatoes, sautéed vegetables, and an endless variety of fresh fruits and three-tier desserts lined across the table.

Food was an unnecessary pleasantry Naia always found joy in.

"Hold it there, on the nori." Akane's hand came up, gesturing to the strip of green at the bottom of the rice. "So, your fingers don't get dirty."

"Thanks," Naia said, intrigued by the child's chiding. It tempted Naia to ask how old she was. Judging by her height, she couldn't have been older than nine or ten.

"You look different." Akane's face scrunched, extending her neck to get a closer look at Naia's face. "Your eyes are brown. They were green a second ago." She lifted an arm to point at her cheeks. "And your skin looked like my doll's."

Naia scoffed. "I have no clue what you are referring to."

She had debated changing the color of her silver hair, but decided it might raise questions from Ronin and the nosey little girl. How did you change your hair color without hair dye?

Glad to know she was correct in her thinking.

"Don't mess with me, Ms. Lady." Akane inspected Naia from head to toe. "You're not as beautiful as you were a second ago."

Naia took a large bite of the plump rice, filled with a pocket of creamy, tangy tuna. "I ant ere fhoo."

Akane scowled, rolling her eyes.

It tugged a small smile out of Naia as she chewed. Dissecting the flavors of sesame seeds and salt, and the crunch of the seaweed.

Akane picked at the chipped tangerine polish on her fingernails. "It is my first time making them by myself. Everyone tells me they're good, but I'm not convinced. So, be honest with me."

"It's good." Naia punctuated this by taking another bite.

Akane beamed. "You think so?"

Her mismatched socks in the open-toed pair of slippers she wore caught Naia's eye. They were similar to Ronin's. "How old are you? Children rarely know how to cook."

A sad smile moved over her lips. "My grandma taught me how to make them. I'm not as good as she was, but I hope to one day be."

There was mourning in her words. One Naia recognized all too well.

"I believe you will be," Naia murmured. "You already make them quite deliciously."

"I can make you more whenever. We still have some left over from the wake."

Naia recognized the term from her studies of mortals. A wake was a ceremony of the dead. Depending on the culture, wake ceremonies were different, but there was typically food.

"Your grandmother passed away?" The question slipped out of Naia before she could swallow it back.

"A year ago." Akane frowned, fidgeting with her fingers again. "My papa passed last week."

Grief left a bone-deep sorrow in Naia she could never quite run far enough away from. Over the years, she'd learned the sorrow of grief was a grim price to pay for the expense of love. It never truly left a person, only diminished in size.

She wanted to offer Akane a hug, or some encouraging words.

Time will heal and the heaviness you feel will?—

What are you doing?

She looked down at the rice ball in her hand.

Do not care for another.

It would only make the heartbreak more crippling in the end.

Naia swallowed the bite in her mouth and sat the rice ball on the bedside table.

"If you wouldn't mind, I'd prefer to get some rest before the festival."

"Oh, all right," Akane said. "I'll come get you when lunch is?—"

"Leave me," Naia snapped.

Akane winced.

Naia cast her gaze out the window, afraid if she saw the crumpling of Akane's expression, it would shatter her resolve.

"Let me know if you need anything."Akane's voice was much smaller than before.

The door clicked shut.

All the times when Mira had made her feel as irrefutably small prodded in Naia's mind. Along with the memories came a sourness in her gut.But Naia could not afford to allow the little girl's kindness to mean anything. Kindness did not exist in her world. Not by the greater good. Definitely not from the heart. From a child or a deity.

The Kahale family was nothing but a stepping stone in her journey to Finnian, and she would not allow them to become significant to her by any means.

In the end, they would die—by the hands of the deities Mira sent for her, or by the fragility of their mortality.

Naia squared her shoulders and peered across the sea once more.

Only, this time, the view hardened her.