Page 14 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)
Trio shrugged, tilting his head from side to side as he thought. "I have a run tomorrow night. I can stay in city until you're available."
With a curt nod, Trio flashed him a broad smile before disappearing into the shadows.
The air in which he vanished swallowed the darkness in the hall, leaving it slightly brighter than before he learned of Trio's presence.
It was his Grace, blessed to him by The Goddess of Night, the gift of shadows.
He could use the shadows to travel from place to place, using any bit of darkness he could to sift through their dimension with ease.
It made him a great Runner and an even better friend.
Aziel was far less fortunate when it came to what he'd been Graced with. Just the thought of his power made his stomach churn, the smell of rotted foliage permeating the air around him as if just thinking about the beastly thing was a summons. He clenched his jaw and continued towards his rooms.
The revelry was in full swing by the time he emerged from the confines of his chambers, his body clean and his mind getting clearer with each passing second.
Cousins and guests were walking along the top floor of the western wing, twirling about in the parlor and sharing stories and jests over drinks.
He moved past each intoxicated body that passed him, all of them giving a wide berth when they saw him coming.
There were stories that swirled around from time to time—rumors that claimed that if Aziel Haze touched you, your soul would rot, eventually leading to a painful and untimely death.
It wasn't far from the truth and he believed that his life in the palace was made easier that way.
With no one brave enough to counter him, people tended to turn a blind eye to whatever he was doing.
The truth was far more gruesome.
Oran was in his usual chair on the far side of the parlor with one of his many courtesans perched in his lap and two others looming over his broad shoulders.
The girls were required to be there, but it seemed as if his little brother was not interested in them at all.
His dark blue eyes were focused solely on the one courtesan that stood by herself in the adjacent corner.
There were many men looking at her, as they always would.
Dorid Yaarborough believed that Mystics had the ability to captivate people—that it was some sort of sorcery.
Growing up in this palace, Aziel once believed that it was true.
He once believed that the only reason people stared at him and wanted him was because of some innate power he possessed and that all of their emotions were manipulated by this nonexistent thing inside of him.
He blamed Camalia's actions on it, he convinced himself that Oran only loved him because of it, and that his father only kept him around for that ability, alone.
He would still like to believe, if only to have something to blame for the past that tormented him, but he learned that there was no such thing as "ensnaring" someone… as his father would like to call it.
These people that surrounded him were just attracted to obscure things. Not for their curiosity, but the desire to take it and bend it—mold it to their liking. Leaving it as a husk of the beautiful thing it once was.
And Nymiria had been the perfect target.
A lonely girl in a strange, new, and cruel world, she'd probably clung to Dorid as a last resort. In fear for her own safety. Not that it mattered. Knowing that Dorid had gotten close enough to her to convince her to kill anyone in his name…
It was enough to make him sick.
Still, he wanted to believe that it was for some other reason.
He wanted to believe that there was a bigger picture, some larger scheme that she was planning.
He had to know, without a shadow of a doubt, if Nymiria had truly become one of them.
He had to know if everything he had and was planning to sacrifice was worth it.
"Welcome back, Aziel." The sarcasm in her voice made his eye twitch. Aziel snapped his head to the side, shooting Desiree a look that could kill. "Don't look at me like that. And stop brooding. You're putting a damper on such a lovely night." She grumbled.
"You call this lovely?" Aziel glared at her in the most loving way possible.
Desi shrugged, moving her braided hair over her shoulder as she leaned down to pour him a drink. He took it with a polite nod of his head and downed it in nearly one gulp. Desi smirked. "That's it, straight down the hatch. You seem tense."
He frowned. "Do I?"
Her deep purple eyes locked on his, narrowing just slightly. "Any luck on figuring out who the death threat came from?"
Aziel shook his head, sticking out his glass for her to refill. "I have a few people in mind."
"Doesn't sound too convincing."
He smirked. "Well, to be honest, I'm not too worried about who wants to kill my bastard of a father.
" He gave a slight shrug as he peered down at the red liquid in his cup.
He swirled it around, watching as it clung to the sides of the cup, looking more like blood than mere wine.
"I think more than half of Yaar wants him dead. "
"Well, that narrows it down."
Though Desi spent most of her days working as a companion and maid to the royal family, it wasn't all that she did.
Trio wanted to take his sister with him when he left Yaar, but Desi had other plans.
She chose to stay, to filter information to him that only the servants would know, given that they fed off rumors and gossip to survive.
Even if it seemed like her position in this newborn revolution seemed very minuscule, she'd actually been able to pass along very important information.
One of those key pieces of information being the lots of land that Dorid was selling in order to help him pay off some of his debts to foreigners he traded goods with.
The last twenty years of Dorid's reign was spent with him trying to build a rather formidable army, almost all of the kingdom's money having been sunk into this passion project.
These people he was purchasing weapons from did not exchange goods for foods or finery. They wanted money. And a lot of it.
His eyes trailed over Nymiria's form once again.
Earlier that day, she was wearing a dress that covered the flower on her chest, but now the brand was in full bloom.
Even with all of her glamouring, the flower still shone brightly against her tan skin.
And where a flimsy strap on her shoulder held her tiny silk gown in place, was a splattering of silver freckles.
And her eyes, those eyes that had haunted him for years, were focused on his fucking brother.
Oran was not evil. Not like the others. But it was the idea that she wanted to be integrated into this society that made his anger unbearable, his logic waning.
"You're watching her rather closely." Desi sighed, her eyes moving around the room to see if anyone noticed the two of them together.
They hadn't—all of them too busy interested in earning Oran's favor.
Aziel was an afterthought. As long as he kept to himself, no one seemed to take interest. "What's going on Aziel? "
"You've been with her all these years, Desi.
I asked you to not let her forget who she was.
" He looked at Desi again, the faint heat of the alcohol finally making its way into his system.
"Half of the people here believe that she is harmless.
The other half believe she is going to rip their heart out and eat it for breakfast in front of their starving families. What do you believe?"
Desi eyed him for a moment. He knew that look.
They'd been together since they were children and he could certainly tell that she was dissecting every subtle movement he made.
She was good at it too. Irritatingly so.
Desi drew in another long breath before she picked up her serving tray.
"I remember something you told me, long ago, when you took Demetrios and I to see one of the theater performances.
You told me that some of the best actors have to become the character they are playing, both on stage and off of it, to give a believable performance. "
He folded his arms across his chest. "What is that supposed to mean?" It came out more bitter than he would have liked, but both Desi and her brother were experts in his curious and horrendous ways. She didn't even bat an eye, only smiled at him and shrugged.
"We haven't lost her." With that final sentence, Desi disappeared into the crowd.
Aziel watched after her, tracking her movements as she offered to refill a few glasses.
And then she was gone. Probably to find Trio or to find her own companion for the night.
Though Aziel hadn't spent much time in the palace since he was fifteen, he knew how these revelries ended.
At the prickling sensation on the back of his neck, Aziel turned.
And when he saw that the corner that Nymiria occupied was now empty, he let out a small curse and began weaving his way through the sweating bodies that surrounded one of the game tables.
We haven't lost her. Maybe not, but he sure as hell had a habit of losing her. And no matter what Desi said, he was almost certain that there were quite a few things that Nymiria was hiding.
When a flash of gold caught his eye, his attention was drawn to one of the alcoves just outside of the west wing parlor.
The hand on Nymiria's thigh was easily recognizable as Oran's.
The large, ornate ring on his smallest finger was enough to give him away.
Even with the curtains shielding majority of their bodies from the world, he could still see Nymiria's wide blue eyes sparkling in the direction of where Oran was sitting across from her.