Rage skewered sharply through him, like a spiked mace running up his gut and into his ribcage.
He ripped his hand from Naia and charged forward, bypassing Cassian.
Father’s soul spun and glided like he was made of water, acting as a barrier.
He stuck his hand out, pressing his palm against Finnian’s shoulder. “No more fighting.”
Finnian glared over him at Marina. “She murdered you! She murdered Kaleo! She has tormented Naia for far too long!”
“I will take responsibility for her actions.” Despite Finnian’s raised voice, Father spoke softly.
Finnian’s eyes jumped back to him, incredulous. “Father.”
“Finnian, you are each a product of your environment. The blame is mine and Mira’s to carry. You haveallsuffered because of our mistakes. There are two sides to each coin. As you and Naia received animosity from Mira, Marina received the same from me.”
Finnian’s jaw set. He couldn’t fathom Father being anything but kind, but the twinge in his gut reminded him nothing was ever as it seemed.
He glared down at Marina, watching her shoulders shake from her sobs. For the first time since he’d known her, she resembled a broken child.
“Promise me” — Father settled both hands on each of Finnian’s shoulders — “that you will let your hostility go. The life of a god may be eternal, but that is no reason to carry on without granting forgiveness. Forever is wasted if you spend it in anger.”
Finnian turned his head away, jaw flexing. He wanted to refuse, to make Marina bleed by his own volition, but it was Father’s request. How could he say no?
“Fine,” he forced out.
Father slid his hand off his shoulders and stepped around him to Naia.
A smiling sob sprang out of her. “Father.”
Father matched her tearful smile and held out his arms.
She jumped into his embrace. “I cannot believe you are here,” she whimpered.
He lifted her feet off the ground. “You have mesmerized me, darling. I am so proud of you.”
“You were right. All along. I apologize for how long it took me to believe in myself.”
Father chuckled. “You move at your own pace. Never at the speed anyone else urges you to. It is one of the many qualities I admire about you.”
Naia craned her head back and turned slightly, gesturing to the gilded hairpin in her silver strands. “Wren refuses freedom. No matter how many times I try.”
“That comes as no surprise.” Father brushed the hairpin along its wings. The solid gold shed to a colorful butterfly, and he smiled. “Do take care of those I cherish, Wren.”
The relic fluttered its wing before solidifying back into gold.
Naia squeezed Father’s neck, sniffling into his shoulder.
Father lowered her feet back to the ground and brought his hands to her cheeks, smiling down at her. “Please tell my grandson how much I love him.”
“I do. I do every day,” she hiccupped between her tears. “He’s brilliant and infatuated with flowers. Says he can feel you within their properties. He’s beautiful. He has my silver hair and Ronin’s eyes and Finnian’s scowl.”
Cassian and Father shared breathy laughs.
Finnian wanted to roll his eyes, savor the last moment of humor, but the brevity of the situation rang in his core. How could he laugh, or even smile, when they were approaching the end?
I shouldn’t have dismissed seeing him all those years ago.
“Enjoy your life, Naia.” Father tucked one of her sliver strands behind her ear. A bud sprouted and yawned open into a deep-red dahlia in place of his finger. “Every day of it.”
