Page 25 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

The taxman was younger than the others, fresh out of his training and hadn't yet learned that his job only applied to the merchants in the city, but that he was never to question what was coming in or out of the palace.

It was unfortunate—such a young life being cut short for only doing the right thing.

But the sun was only getting lower and Aziel was informed that he'd find the young man at one of the taverns in town.

It was a non-issue. As always, a job was a job.

Still remained the problem of the oddities that he was housing in the apartment across the hall—the apartment that Dorid intended to sequester Nymiria to in order to put distance between her and Oran.

"Before you go," Aziel ran his fingers through his hair, combing the unruly silver strands away from his face. "There are some things across the hall that I will need you to take with you. They can go in the palace."

Trio didn't question him. He simply nodded, taking one more swig of the whiskey before he placed the decanter in the open space between their thighs.

"Speaking of which, they're nearly done with the third floor.

The question still remains if you want it to be sleeping quarters or if you want a ballroom. "

It was a ridiculous question that he never would have imagined being asked.

Still, it filled him with a feeling of pride at the thought that they'd even come this far.

Years of planning and secret missions were finally coming to fruition.

"Turn it into a ballroom." He thought for a moment, his eyes homing in on the painting of Greia that hung on his wall, one that belonged to his mother.

He remembered it being situated above her altar, the flickering of candles illuminating the image of the glowing goddess as she moved through a lush forest, blooming moonflowers sprouting from underneath her feet and curling around the bases of the pines.

He smiled. "Would it be too much to ask if I request for them to put a garden on the roof? "

Trio gave his best friend a once-over, his eyes narrowed. As long as Trio had known Aziel, he'd never shown a single interest in gardening. But who was he to judge? It wasn't his palace, after all. "In a realm full of Mystics, I'd say that anything is possible."

The sound of crackling leather sounded around the room as Aziel stretched his stiff fingers.

The scars underneath the fabric were starting to ache, the skin getting tight from lack of movement.

He needed to see Hilla again. "This won't be an easy task," Aziel started toward the door of his rooms with Trio following close behind.

He checked both directions of the hall, waiting for Trio's shadows to surround them before he took the step towards the door directly in front of them.

With the simple wave of his hand, the door opened.

Trio's hand shot to his mouth, pinching at the grin forming at his lips before he covered his eyes and laughed. "You can't be serious." He chuckled.

Aziel leaned against the doorway. He was serious.

Of course, he hadn't intentionally caught the beast, but the tower was the safest place to keep it until he found another place for him.

"He behaves well enough. He is a hungry little fucker, but he's learned some patience.

I think one hunt a day should fare him well.

" He smiled at the beast in front of them before stepping into the room.

A curled serpentine form roused from it's slumber, it's blue eyes blinking at two separate times before it's head seemingly perked with excitement.

It's white scales rippled happily, it's tail swiping back and forth against the wooden floor.

The drake was about the size of a large dog now.

When Aziel first found him, he'd just hatched and could fit in the palm of his hand.

And while Aziel's research concluded that the drake would not get as large as their dragon cousins, the creature would certainly need to leave the tower within the next few weeks if he wanted it to survive.

He knelt down beside the drake, extending his hand to the wet snout.

From the doorway, Trio watched with an open mouth as Aziel began scratching underneath the beast's chin.

"Does it have a name?" Trio stammered, his steps cautious as he approached.

Aziel picked up a paw that was roughly the size of his head.

Trio leaned down, examining the deformed extremity.

Unlike the other paws, this one was much smaller with creases cutting through the flesh that looked like a rope had been tied far too tight around his developing limb.

His confusion was replaced with understanding, his chest squeezing around the melancholy that'd formed there.

"His name is Tre'an." Aziel stated it with such pride that Trio had to do a double take. Aziel never looked like this at something before. Nearly twenty years of being at his side and Trio hadn't seen this man's eyes sparkle quite like they were now.

"Tre'an…" Trio repeated the name in a whisper, his own hand coming down upon the ridged flesh of the creature's head. Horns were starting to form in the raised places, all four of them just dulled white nubs. "Strong."

Nymiria looked at her features in the mirror of Dorid's study, her fingers trailing over the silver freckles along her shoulder when the door behind her clicked shut.

She turned away from herself, pulling up her glamour.

It'd been a long day and after what transpired between her and Aziel, her false skin felt heavy.

She wished that Dorid would allow her to be herself, that he cared about her well-being enough to understand that her glamour was exhausting.

She didn't remember much about her magic lessons in the Beyond, but something that was rooted into them from a very young age about their powers was that each use of magic required energy depending on where you pulled it from.

It was the price one had to pay in order to wield.

Every Seelie child was born with the ability to glamour themselves, to take on a new identity as a form of protection.

And aside from simple elemental powers and certain glamouring magics, having an ability beyond those things—abilities that could physically manipulate the earth and living things—were considered Graces, gifts from the gods.

Still, despite the aching in her limbs, she turned to Dorid and forced a smile as she watched him take his seat at his desk.

He was handsome, as always, in the way that villains were always handsome.

But there was a distinct tiredness to him that hadn't been there this morning when they were breaking their fast with one another.

He let out a relieved sigh as she approached him, her hands secured behind her back until he invited her to take a seat.

She bowed and slipped into the chair directly across from him.

"I'm afraid this meeting will be rather brief, my dear.

We've just received word of something rather disturbing.

" He explained. Nymiria nodded slowly, her fingers tugging at a loose thread on the sheer overlay on her gown.

"Just the other day we had two hundred Mystics escape the camps overnight and now…

I've received word of a band of fire wielders that have burned down one of the villages in Fairmont.

" A large hand came up and massaged his brow.

He wasn't wearing his crown, which was usual after his days in council.

"Have you made any progress with Aziel?" His eyes flickered up to meet hers.

Nymiria was quite used to his heated gaze.

Especially when it was directed towards those who went against his wishes, but for her to be at the receiving end of those glares was a rare occurrence.

She frowned. "Unfortunately, I've found myself having a bit of trouble being able to charm him, your Majesty. "

"What kind of trouble?" His voice was a near-snarl, his eyes narrowing. When Nymiria acted taken aback by his tone, Dorid seemed to soften, raising a hand to his heart. "Forgive me, love. As I said, it has been quite a long and exhausting day."

She didn't care too much about his excuse.

She shook her head and mustered the sweetest smile possible, shoving her thoughts into the vault in her chest and locking them away.

"It's understandable. But to answer your question, it seems as if Aziel and I do not particularly get on very well with one another. " She shrugged.

"What have you done to anger him?" Accusatory. Typical. Nymiria sank her teeth into her cheek to bite back a nasty retort, her hands curling to fists in her lap.

"Nothing, your Majesty. I have only been myself."

Dorid let out something between a chuckle and a scoff, his eyes cutting at her before turning to the gilded goblet perched on top of a set of books. "Well, my dear, yourself is sometimes a lot to handle. Might I suggest you… dull yourself?"

She was going to explode. There was a reason she played the pretty pet—a reason that she was doing everything that he asked of her. She clutched to that reason harder than ever, like a lifeline, but her patience was fraying.

There is nothing wrong with you, Nymiria.

A phantom voice whispered, caressing over her skin like cool silk.

She shivered, keeping her eyes trained upon the king as he meandered around his office in search of something, mumbling to himself.

She swallowed. You are beautiful, but you do not belong here.

There is nothing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong—

The sting of tears and the thickness in her throat alerted her, snapped her from her trance and from the flicker of golden hair and green eyes in her peripheral. "I will try harder, your Majesty."