36. The Exchange

The journey to the Land of the Dead was through a hallowed, sacred hall. At its end ahead, fluffy, deep lavender branches swayed in front of a massive black structure.

"Will you force me to live eternity in Moros?" Naia clenched and unclenched her fingers into fists at her sides.Anything to distract herself from the agony of her heart shattering in the walls of her chest.

Later, she could process everything—everyone—she'd lost. For now, she needed to hold herself together.

Oddly enough, beneath her turmoil, she had peace, and she clung to it, knowing she'd made the right decision in sacrificing herself. No matter how much she longed to witness Ronin as a father, or her son as he grew up.

Cassian strolled in front of her, hands tucked away in his pockets. "I have no intention of locking you away to live out your days in a prison cell when you have not committed a crime."

A sliver of hope braided in her. "Then what do you intend to do with me? You vowed to make my life a living hell."

He pushed his damp strands from his forehead. His hair was cut shorter on the sides. The longer strands settled in a disheveled mess. "Seeing as how I did not anticipate you would have the wits or intelligence to break my curse, I am still deciding on how I wish to confront you for ruining my plans. Whatever I choose, I can assure you, it will be painful."

She didn't quite believe him. Aside from his usual poised composure, overshadowed by the tension in his tone and shoulders, Naia could sense his exasperation. It was in the way he addressed her, how his threats lacked lethality, as if his heart wasn't in it. She supposed breaking her curse had killed some of his spirit.

"Will you ever allow me to see them again?" Naia quietlyinquired.

Cassian halted in his step.

She stopped behind him.

"You belong to me now, Little Goddess," he said without looking over his shoulder at her. "Once you enter the gates of my land, you cannot leave unless I grant it."

Another cage.

It appeared her destiny was to always remain trapped.

"Therefore, no," Cassian finished. "You will not see them again until their souls enter the afterlife."

A lump swelled in her throat. She ground her teeth, swallowing her tears. "Will you grant me death when the time comes?"

Cassian continued walking.

She matched his pace.

A guttural feeling told her his lack of response meant he would. Despite his title and reputation, Cassian was not wicked, as many believed. He did not find satisfaction in making others suffer.If it were the case, he would've fought back during their fight.

Naia and Cassian emerged under a brooding sky and ancient wisteria blossoms showering down, delicately brushing their shoulders as they walked.

"I expected dead trees and a red-soaked land," Naia confessed.

Cassian regarded her with a sidelong glance. "My realm is not made up of decaying wasteland and morbid rays of light."

"Clearly."

The stone wall stood taller than the trees, obscuring the view from within its jaws.Carved with colossal statues resembling beastly gods, rumored to be from the Great Deity War who had stood against Cassian for his title as the ruler of the Land of the Dead.

Her eyes followed the stone pathway winding around the wisterias up the stairs leading to the iron doors in the middle of the wall.

A gate. To his land.

Resistance burdened her ankles, as if weighed down by anchors.

Do not enter, do not enter.

A white-hot panic spun her head, causing her to pause involuntarily.

For Ronin and Ash.You must.

"Come along, Little Goddess," Cassian rumbled, like a low warning of a lion. In no mood for disobedience.

You will be reunited with Father.

Naia moved one foot in front of the other.

Breathe.

A silhouette of a figure stood atop the stairs, its presence masked by the shadows of the swaying wisteria and the looming wall.

Cassian came to a sudden stop.Naia stood at his side, peering closer at the tall stranger.

"Your confidence has transformed into complete ignorance," Cassian said in a cynical tone. "Or have you entered my realm to give back the object you stole?"

The figure descended the stairs with the grace of a feline.

Naia's breath caught in her throat. An inferno of rage lit in her chest and burned down her arms. Quickly swallowed away by her astonishment as she peered ahead at her little brother.

Finnian stood in the middle of their path.

"Lord Cassian," he addressed in a civilized tone.

Naia had every right to go knock him in the face after stealing Ash's blood, but his unexpected courteous attitude struck her. Something entirely uncharacteristic of him—especially towards Cassian.

Cassian stared at Finnian, and Finnian stared back. The animosity between them stiffened the air.

"I have come to you with a proposition," Finnian said with an unmatched stoicism. "As my sister has already broken her curse by handing over her freedom, I am here to exchange my freedom for hers."

Naia's body went rigid.

Cassian's head cocked like an intrigued predator. He pulled a hand from his pocket and swiped a finger over his bottom lip. "You have my attention."

"I will also give back all the souls I have harbored from you in my ghouls."

No.

Cassian would torture Finnian. Blatantly make him suffer for all the necromancy he'd performed over the centuries. She couldn't allow him to do this.

"I refuse." Naia positioned herself between the two gods, shooting Finnian a hard look. "This is my decision. Leave at once, Finny."

"You are wrong." Bold and emotionless, this was Finnian from the night of the charity event—meticulously calculated, intervening with purpose. All his soft, endearing qualities preserved and tucked away. This version of him perturbed her. "Lord Cassian will decide how the debt of your curse is paid now."

Naia whirled around to Cassian, her stomach curdling at the sight of keen, malicious intent.

His teeth shined in a heinous smile. "Very well. I accept your offer, Finnian."

"No. No!" Naia's fists came up in the air, demanding to be heard. "Lord Cassian, you cannot. It's my curse. It's up to me to make the sacrifice."

Cassian's golden-jeweled gaze flickered down onto her. "You still are, Little Goddess. Your cherished brother. Such a delightful loophole and it favors me. I eliminate a pesky termite, and you reunite with your loved ones."

Naia's jaw trembled, conflicted. Wanting nothing more than to return, but not at the expense of Finnian's anguish.

She turned to her brother. "Take it back."

He crossed the space between them and pushed her stringy, wet strands over her shoulder. "Do not fret, Sister. I will survive."

She frowned. "You will suffer."

He smiled. "Torment does not frighten me."

It never had. Memories from his boyhood played behind Naia's eyes. All the stubborn, strong-willed looks he gave Mira after she'd inflicted morbid acts of pain on him. A bone-deep defiance he expressed when he was told to do something he did not agree with. His passionate retaliation that transformed Mira's great hall into a mangled graveyard after Arran's death.

Finnian's eyes burrowed into hers with a million unsaid words.

She knew her brother well enough to know when he was being methodical. Finnian would never give up his precious undead creatures, and his livelihood and status in Hollow City without a plan.

It dawned on her then—when she'd sent him to find a way to break the curse, he'd found it. He must've learned it required sacrifice, which is why he did not tell her. It was the last thing he wanted her to do. And because conniving was a sport for Finnian, he plotted ahead in case she had figured it out—pop in and steal Ash's blood, and trade places with her.

Finnian must've had his own agenda, and this exchange was him asking her to let him go.

In return, he granted her freedom—true, unrestricted freedom.

And she knew better than anyone else, when Finnian made a decision, nobody could change his mind.

Her happiness and grief intertwined as she accepted the reality that to remain at Ronin's side with their son, she would have to let go of her little brother. For good, this time.

She gritted her teeth, debating whether to punch him or hug him. "You bastard." Her eyes overflowed with tears as she threw her arms around him, burying her face in his neck. He smelled of licorice and herbs, the deep spice of magic, of home.

With a hearty laugh, Finnian squeezed her waist tightly.

"Go," he whispered, "and enjoy your life, Naia."