Page 15 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

He should have turned away. There were a number of things he could have distracted himself with, a number of women that would easily tumble into a dark corner with him. Instead, he figured that there was no point in waiting around to get a feel for her true intentions. He needed to confront her.

Nymiria's knee bobbed and as much as she wanted to focus on the man in front of her, she couldn't shake the feeling of dread that came with knowing that Aziel Haze was right outside of that alcove.

"Are you nervous?" Oran asked.

"Not particularly. I believe that it has just been a rather overwhelming day.

It feels as if there hasn't been a moment to rest in the last twenty-four hours.

" Her words came out quickly as she took a peak outside of the curtain.

Oran's brother was still there, still glaring at the alcove like he was tempted to rip open the curtains, drag her out by her hair, and slit her throat.

Although, she wasn't quite sure what she'd done to deserve such a hateful look from someone she'd never spoken a word to in her life.

And he couldn't possibly be that enraged with her from simply walking in on him and that woman together.

Unless he was terribly shy and her intrusion on their tryst made it hard for him to fully satisfy himself.

"Is there something wrong with your brother? He's been watching me all night."

Oran leaned forward, moving his face in front of the slit that Nymiria had been looking out of to get a look, himself.

He let out a small chuckle. "There's a lot wrong with him, but it's nothing for you to worry about.

Someone in the palace found a letter detailing mine and my father's deaths.

So, I believe he is just being cautious of my whereabouts.

" When he reclined in the bench, Nymiria's cheeks flushed.

His thighs were large, perfectly encasing her own.

She'd never been tiny. And to have a man who was much larger than she was made her feel dainty for the first time in her life.

He was sitting right in front of her, within arms length, and she couldn't even force herself to touch him.

A wave of horror washed over her when he smiled at her, the red heat that bloomed over her chest was suddenly icy with dread.

Good gods, get a hold of yourself. You are a killer. Now act like one.

"You're staring at me like you're terrified of me." Oran laughed again, moving closer to her. His hands fell upon her knees and even though her body went rigid with panic, she didn't move. "Are you scared of me?"

There was no use in lying. Even if she attempted, her body would tell an entirely different story. "I'm scared of what will happen after you touch me." Her voice trembled and that, alone, was enough for her to wish she could crawl in a hole somewhere and hide for the rest of her life.

For some unknown reason, she was scared.

She'd used this situation as a way to get Oran close.

And, given that those rumors of death threats had been fluttering around the kingdom, she knew that Aziel would be close.

This was her chance, her way in. Getting close to Oran meant getting close to Aziel.

Which meant, unfortunately, she was going to kill him.

And there was something about that thought that made her sick to her stomach.

"You don't have to pretend to be virtuous for me, Nymiria." And by the way his face fell when he saw the expression she wore, Oran cursed under his breath and ran his long, thick fingers over his chin. It was better this way. To lie. "You mean to tell me that you are a virgin?"

She shrugged, nodding her head as she watched him shift awkwardly on his side of the alcove.

The bench creaked under his large form as Nymiria slowly moved her hand to her thigh.

The tips of her fingers grazed the hard ridge at her side, for comfort, but Oran leaning forward made her hand snap back to her lap.

"You've never been touched by anyone here?"

Another nod. Another lie. "I was protected." She grumbled. "His majesty didn't even allow his most eager companions a night with me."

Oran leaned closer to her once again, his fingers hooking under her chin to draw her attention back to him. She looked at him for just a second before pulling away. "You don't have to do anything." He whispered. "Here, I have something that might help you relax."

Nymiria watched him reach into the pocket of his breeches, pulling out a handkerchief that was folded into a tiny square.

When unfolded, she saw something that resembled a sugar cube sitting on the flattened part of his palm.

"They call it jimsonweed. After one of the raids of the cities in the Beyond, I was having horrible night terrors.

Some local witch doctor gave me this and told me it would help.

I have a friend on the outskirts of the city that makes it, too. "

The cube fell into her outstretched hand. "Is it safe?" Her brow arched and with a quick glance in his direction, she leaned down to sniff the cube. There wasn't anything peculiar about its smell at all.

"In small doses. I usually break off a piece and put it under my tongue.

Works better that way." Nodding slowly, Nymiria snapped a corner off of the cube, holding it up to Oran.

When he gave a nod of approval, she placed the piece under her tongue.

"It will start to work here shortly. Usually, it only takes about five minutes.

You'll start to feel warm." She was already warm.

If she were any hotter, her body would surely catch fire.

Nymiria's gaze followed Oran as he rose to his feet, a twinge of fear flickering in her chest when he pulled the curtain back.

"I'll be back. I will fetch you something to drink. You'll need it."

"Wait—aren't you going to have any?"

Oran shook his head, smiling. "I'll be alright. You look like you need it more than I do." And then he was gone.

She waited patiently, over-analyzing the rate at which her heart beat and the thoughts that swirled in her mind.

Perhaps Oran had been lied to, because whatever was in her system did nothing to calm her nerves.

Minutes ticked by—an eternity, it seemed, when the curtain finally opened again.

But instead of her tall and muscular prince sliding into the bench across from her, she was met with the razor-sharp stare of an assassin.

In the dark, his eyes didn't shine quite as brightly as they had the other times she'd seen him.

And even though their color was absolutely magnificent, they were filled with death.

"I've finally caught you." He huffed, cracking the knuckles of his leather-clad fingers. "I saw you disappear at the engagement ceremony."

Anger bloomed in her chest, prickling under her skin like thorns. She rolled her eyes. "Believe it or not, even women have to relieve themselves at times."

Aziel smirked. "Pardon my intrusion, then."

She kicked her head to one side, doing her best to remain calm. "Is this about me walking in on you? I haven't told anyone about what I saw and I don't plan to."

"Why I am here has nothing to do with what you saw in the game room Nymiria, though I would appreciate you knocking."

She shook her head, her hands coming up to wipe at the sweat that had started to form just below her hairline. Her stomach rolled, throat burning with the acid that was rising from her stomach. "I don't feel well." She panted.

He didn't believe her. He'd seen this act one too many times to know that it was a slick, overused way that someone tried to avoid the consequences of their actions. "Nice try, but I think you know why I'm here. Are you a sympathizer or are you loyal to the king?"

"Please, I need water." She was gripping at her throat now, looking as if she was swallowing shards of glass.

His eyes roved over her body, taking in the droplets of sweat that were running down her chest and gathering at the hem of her silk dress.

His eyes, then, dropped to the place on her thigh that tugged at the fabric in the shape of a weapon.

He shot forward, neverminding her desperate panting and whining and spread her legs.

"Stop—" Her pleas were weak, her heart hammering so hard in her chest that it genuinely felt as if it would burst through her ribs at any moment.

It didn't even register in her mind that his fingers were now tugging at the strap of her holster.

The holster that held the dagger meant to kill him. "Please, stop—"

"I'm trying to help you." Aziel snarled, finally ripping the dagger free. "They'll kill you if they find this, damn it."

"Not… for… him." She managed.

His eyes went wide, his hands immediately flying up to cup her face in his hands. He could probably shove his finger down her throat to get her to vomit whatever she'd ingested, but by now it would be far too late…

Foam began spurting from her mouth as she coughed, fingers still clawing at her throat and leaving horrible red stripes in their wake.

Aziel swore under his breath, glancing around the alcove and preparing to lift her off of the bench when the curtains were ripped open once again.

Aziel fell away from her and rose to his feet immediately to look at Oran's enraged expression.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Oran demanded, fingers curling around the lapels of Aziel's jacket.

The assassin let out something akin to a growl, his blood boiling and he shoved the sheathed dagger into Oran's chest. "She's been poisoned, you idiot." He snarled.

Nymiria shook her head, attempting to lift herself to her feet, but the ground seemed to have vanished from where she remembered it once being. She landed at Oran and Aziel's feet, fingers curling around the ankle of a leather boot. "Please." She begged. "Help me."

The words that were whispered into her ear were muffled, sounding more like the humming of a mosquito rather than coherent phrases.

Her vision was hazed, darkening at the edges as she attempted to stand once again.

Still, she collapsed. But before she could hit the ground, she was being hoisted up and cradled against a hard chest. Nymiria nuzzled into the scent of cherry blossoms—gripping onto anything that could help the world stop spinning, but it was no use.

She didn't like this. Not at all. And if she never tried that damn drug again in her life, it would be too soon.

Soon enough, she was surrounded by softness, her lips being pried open by rough hands. Something was pored down her throat that had her gagging, the liquid rising to that place inside of her where her throat and nostrils were connected.

Drowning.

Nymiria didn't know how to swim. She'd never been taught how to do it, she couldn't—

"She'll be alright." Someone whispered. "You acted quickly enough, she'll be alright."

There was a grunt in the distance. She turned her face towards the familiar sound, extending her hand to reach for it, but only found the soft lumps of pillows. "Keep an eye on her. I'll be back in an hour to check on her. Is there water you can give her?"

"Yes. Of course there is water in here. What kind of servant would I be if I didn't have her some fresh water to drink?"

"Desiree, this is hardly a time for your sarcasm."

Warm hands smoothed hair away from Nymiria's face.

She wished she could have reacted, she wished that she could give her thanks to whoever her savior was.

But she couldn't move. She could barely even think clearly.

"You're alright." Desi sighed. "You'll feel better the moment the sun starts coming up. "