Page 16 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

Her gown clung to her damp skin as she thrashed in her sheets.

The dizzying feeling of her horror was overwhelming—so overwhelming that she could feel the burn of the ropes tied around her wrists and ankles.

She could feel the pelting of rocks, the stinging snap of the iron-tipped whip against her back.

Nymiria was asleep, whimpering and fighting the invisible monsters of her past. She kicked her legs, clawed at the air in front of her, and gasped when she swore that she could feel the burn of white-hot iron pressing into her stomach.

She could feel phantom hands spreading her thighs, slipping between them and demanding everything.

The quick flash of blue eyes in front of her pulled her from her nightmares, sending her spiraling back into reality with a loud, greedy gasp of air.

When she rose from her bed, her legs trembled like that of a newborn calf trying to hold up its weight.

Gripping the post on the foot of her bed, she managed to navigate towards the pitcher of water left on the vanity across the room.

She downed glass after glass to ease the scratchiness in her throat, but to no avail.

If anyone had heard her screams, no one cared to check and see if she was alright.

They'd left her alone. Either that or she hadn't screamed at all and the sounds she'd heard were compositions of her own mind.

She knew that sleep would not find her again.

Her nightmares would linger, would haunt her every time she closed her eyes.

What Oran had given her at his party was starting to wear off.

Even with the faint sway of the room, she still had more groundings than she did before—was more coherent and aware of the direction the world was turning.

Stumbling over the books at the foot of her bed, she slipped on her robe.

It wasn't the best idea for her to leave her room at such an early hour in the morning, but she needed air.

She needed the grass under her feet and the smell of life in her nose.

Nymiria needed something more than this dark and twisted place—she needed a semblance of home.

Each corridor was vacant on the way out of the palace.

The doors to the garden were left open, a breeze sweeping through the lowest level—air thick and humid with the threat of rain.

She could smell the lightning already, feel the thunder in her bones.

The world around her moved through her being as she breached the threshold that led her out into the carefully groomed wilderness.

Clouds rolled through the early morning sky, heavy and thick with the water they were too sodden with to contain.

But she didn't care. She took weak steps all the way to her precious garden and the moment she unlocked the gate, she tumbled into the bed of wildflowers.

Her vision was hazy as she peered up at the thunderous sky, a flash of light blinding her momentarily.

Her fingers flared through the stems of her wildflowers, taking purchase of them as the rain started to fall, drenching her almost immediately.

Still, she did not tear her eyes away from the sky.

She let the thick droplets of water roll across her skin, reveling in the cold velvet caress of them.

The storm continued. The winds blew and the thunder boomed across the vacant horizon.

And when she finally turned her head to the side and saw white moonflowers blooming beside her, she didn't care that their paleness stood out among the yellow-tipped daisies.

She ran her fingers over the white blossoms, a warmth spreading through her chest. She was close to him now.

So close that she could almost feel him through the dirt.

It was morbid, surely, but the desire to dig up the grave just beside her and nestle in the skeletal arms of the one who haunted her was stronger than ever.

She would die there. Let the earth do its job and melt her flesh to the bone, take away the pain and suffering she felt from these years of loneliness—these years of regret.

Owen had been the only good thing left in this dark and cruel world and now he was just an unmarked grave.

He was forgotten by most, but he'd never left her.

Every moment they spent together, up until she buried his body in this very garden, followed her every day of her life.

She tried to remember him smiling at her, watching her dance and twirl through the willows along the banks of the river.

She tried to remember the way his lips felt on her skin, how they ignited a passion in her, how they awoke parts of her soul that she never knew existed.

"You told me not to cry over you." Her voice shook, her chest aching as she turned to look at the small river stone she'd placed there nearly three years before.

"Can't I just have one tear?" A tear fell from the corner of her eye and onto the sodden grass, her lips trembling as she wove her fingers through the green tresses.

"I don't know where to go from here." She whispered.

Hours later, she was startled awake by a ray of sun hitting her eyes.

The rain had stopped. Nymiria pulled herself up from the bed of flowers, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands to help clear them.

Upon opening them, she froze and blanched in horror at the sight of black boots in front of her.

They were connected to long, lean legs and as her eyes roved higher, her heart nearly stopped when she saw the face of Aziel Haze looking back at her.

And he did not look happy.

He lowered himself until he was level with her, his eyes like a branding iron against her skin. "What the fuck are you doing here?" He demanded.

Nymiria's blood ran cold. She glanced around nervously at her garden, at the visible indent on the earth where she had been sleeping, before looking at him again. "I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep. I didn't mean to—"

"No." He snarled. "Why the fuck are you sleeping on my mother's grave?"

The moment the words left his mouth, Nymiria shot to her feet in horror. "Grave?"

"Yes, her grave. Are you hard of hearing?

" He brushed past her, sinking to the earthen floor and moving his hands around in the flowers.

When he stopped his search, Nymiria trembled as she watched him rip her flowers from the soil and clear away the grass until a headstone was clearly visible underneath.

She clapped her hand over her mouth, eyes wide with worry as Aziel stood and turned to her again.

"Who gave you the right to be here?" He demanded.

"Who gave you the fucking key to that gate? "

Once again, these Yaarboroughs had her at a loss for words.

She hated it. How one harsh look could have her scrambling to find what she so desperately wanted to say.

"Dorid. King Dorid." Her first initial thought was to tell him to fuck off, that she was innocent and had no idea what was buried underneath all of those flowers.

But the king's name was all that she could muster.

Aziel hissed something under his breath before shoving his gloved hands into his hair, fisting the silver locks and tugging at them angrily. "That motherfucker—" He slammed his fist into the iron gate and Nymiria stumbled back when she saw the dent that the force of his fist left behind.

"I hardly see how causing yourself pain will fix this situation.

" She could have slapped herself. Now was not the time for that betrayal of a tongue in her mouth to get her into even more trouble.

And when Aziel whirled to her and shot her the most venomous stare she'd ever seen in her life, she flinched.

"I'm sorry. Don't listen to me. Sometimes I say things before I can think it through.

In fact, there have been multiple people in my life who've told me that I am quite impulsive.

There was one time that I accidentally called one of your father's advisors a pompous asshole in front of a whole congregation of people.

And! I also told the queen to shut—" His eyes turned to slits as she spoke.

Her breaths quickened and she shot him an apologetic smile as she snapped her mouth shut, holding her hand up to her lips to signify that she was done talking.

"Did King Dorid tell you what this place was?" She shook her head in response. "How did you get in possession of that key?" He pointed to the chain around her neck, eyes homed in on the key that dangled in the space between her breasts.

"He gifted it to me. All he said was that I should make this place beautiful—that it hadn't been properly cared for in years."

Aziel shook his head. "Of course he didn't take care of it.

She was always an afterthought… always a burden that he couldn't be bothered with.

" His eyes dropped to the flowers he'd ripped out of the ground and his face softened for a fraction of a second, but when their eyes met again, he was back to glaring at her as if all of this was her fault.

"Give me that key." He extended his hand in her direction.

Nymiria could only stare at it, her brow furrowed.

She shook her head. "No. This is my garden.

I have worked too hard—" Her voice broke off into a gasp as he lunged for her, but Nymiria was quick to react.

She dodged his hand by mere seconds and it was out of sheer instinct that her fist connected with the column of his neck, in that protruding place between his chin and chest. Aziel coughed and gagged, fingers going up to his throat as he tried to draw in even breaths.

Nymiria felt fear surge through her veins as she slowly backed herself into the corner of the fence. "I am so, so sorry. You startled me."