PROLOGUE
Marina
The Past
The palmsof Marina’s hands were sticky with his blood.
“Tell me of the situation,” Mother commanded.
Marina stared down at the moonstone floor, her arms stiff at her sides, fingers flexed, attempting to process the sequence of events.
Less than five hours ago, tassels rained down from the vaulted ceiling in the great hall. Deities roamed the grand space within its walls, picking at all her favorite foods spread along the tables. Mother gave an endearing speech on behalf of her twentieth birthday, and Father had spoken to her about a game of chess while they swayed on the dance floor. It was the first real conversation she’d had with him in nearly a decade.
She’d gone to bed content—happyeven.
The sap dried on the inside of her hand, sending every synapse, every spare nerve into a panic. She needed to clean it off—remove any evidence that what happened wasn’t some lucid horror.
“Lord Evander paid a visit to Lady Marina in her bedchamber,” Raksa, Mother’s attendant, said in a tone devoid of the urgency consuming Marina.
Her ears rang violently, drowning out the bellowing thunderstorm that rumbled through the sea and into the palace.
Two days ago, the middle god arrived in Kaimana. Evander’s blatant staring during feasts did not go unnoticed. Nor did the low murmurs exchanged with the other gods who accompanied him from his land, their heads swiveling in her direction with lips carved in malicious curves.
Evander was one of many who visited Kaimana, ordered by his mother, the High Goddess of the Moon. A way to remain in good graces with the Sea.
Marina grew up catching glimpses of Evander skirting around the palace grounds, much like she had with Solaris. Aside from a few passing courtesies, Marina disregarded Evander, expressing her obvious disinterest.
So why was it that she could still feel the god’s fingertips bruising her skin, his heavy weight trapping her against the mattress? The marks were healed. She was safe now. But her body shook, as if it were still stuck beneath him with no way to escape the snare of his firm hold.
Her breath went shallow, and she clenched her jaw to combat the paralyzing fear snaking down her spine.
“What of Lord Evander now?” Mother asked. The rich blue hue of the moonlight shone through the sea and spilled across her frame, glinting off the silver strands of her neatly pinned braid.
Marina pressed her thumb into the top of her index finger, holding it firmly against her palm until pain webbed up her knuckle.
Do try not to be loud, Lady Marina.
Heart palpitating, she flitted her eyes around the room and grasped at any distraction to remain grounded. The sheer white curtains dusting the moonstone floor, draped around the canopy of Mother’s bed. The incense of coconut and mandarin wafting in the air.
She could still feel Evander’s hand pressed over her mouth, his lips against her ear.
The edges of her vision tunneled.
She sucked in a breath, but it did not fill her lungs, and panic tightened the reservoir of her chest.
“In Lady Marina’s hysteria,” Raksa explained with an infuriating nonchalance, “she decapitated the lord. He is currently regenerating back in his bedchamber.”
She’d been asleep when Evander slipped into her bed, giving her barely enough time to register the glisten of his tongue in the dark, the wine spilling off his breath as he urged her to be still before slipping his hands up her nightgown.
In her frenzy, she’d commanded him to stop and latched on to his wrists, fighting his advances. When he did not listen, she’d ripped her arm free out from under his body weight and called on her divine power.
A thin, jagged shadow, shaped like a scimitar, sprung from her fingers and carved straight through the god’s neck. His head flew like a bloodied stone across her room. Warm liquid sprayed over her cheeks, stung in her eyes.
She gaped at the torso sprawled across her bed as the blotting of bruises along her thighs already began to heal.
“What shall you have me do?” Raksa asked Mother. “You and I both know Lord Evander will depart offended by this situation. The High Goddess of the Moon will not take kindly to what has transpired here.”
A sour taste hit the back of Marina’s throat.
