Page 30 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

"Ican't help you." Nymiria stated it firmly, her voice not even shaking once, despite the tremors in her hands. She clenched them into fists, turning her gaze to the crow perched on one of the pine branches to her right.

"You can't or you won't?" He was goading her as always, this back-and-forth game he seemingly loved to play to get her worked up. And for what? None of this made any sense. There was nothing that she could offer him—not a single flicker of her Grace was left that could be of use to his cause.

She gritted her teeth, taking a step away from the podium. "I don't see how it makes a difference, I still will not help you."

The look in her eyes and the movements of her body spoke two entirely different phrases.

Aziel had killed enough people to know what fear looked like, and those telling signs were written all over her face.

He'd had her for a moment, he saw it—the look of wonder in her eyes, the allure of finding the Anam triggering something inside of her. But as soon as he saw it, it was gone.

"Have it your way, then." He sighed and pushed away from the podium, turning swiftly on his heel and turning back in the direction of the palace.

He walked slowly, smirking when he heard her bristled steps charging after him, the foliage crunching under her feet and a breathy curse leaving her mouth when she finally fell into step beside him.

He aimlessly examined the silver buttons on the cuffs of his jacket, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the smooth top.

"Change your mind?" Aziel arched his brow in her direction, but Nymiria only grunted in response.

"I want my dagger back." She held out her palm to him, making a beckoning motion with her fingers. "It's not yours, you can't just take it."

His smirk turned to a laugh as he stared down at her, her steely eyes showing no sign of amusement. A line formed in between her brows, her lips flat with frustration. "No." He started walking again.

A flurry of curses sounded from behind him, Nymiria's stomps crushing every twig and plant in her path. "What do you mean no?" She hissed. "I want it back!"

"It means exactly what I said—no. I'm not giving it back until you learn that stabbing and punching people who piss you off is not the proper way to behave."

"And who are you to be giving lessons on how I should behave?" She exclaimed. Aziel's long legs were able to clear a fallen tree that lay in their path and he turned his head to Nymiria just in time to see her using all of her strength to jump over it. "You're the certified murderer here!"

Aziel turned to her fully, striding backwards towards the clearing. "Now, if we are going to start handing out hateful names that are related to our professions, what should I call you, darling? If I called you what others in this kingdom call the royal courtesans, you'd probably slit my throat."

Nymiria only blinked at him. Because he was right.

With a triumphant look shot in her direction, Aziel turned back around and continued going.

"For your information, you are the only person that has ever pissed me off enough to want to stab or punch.

So that says more about your character than it does mine, I think. "

This woman was insufferable. Aziel rolled his eyes, pressing his thumb to the bridge of his nose before turning to her again.

"Surely, the very brief interactions we've had haven't given you a good example of what my character is, but I can assure you that there was no need for you to punch me in the throat or try to stab me. "

"Every brief interaction we've had, you've acted like a pompous ass."

He surveyed her for a moment, his smile returning when he saw the angry line between her brows again. He couldn't resist the urge this time, allowing himself to reach out and poke the mark. "You keep making that face, it'll stay like that."

"If you left me alone, I wouldn't have to make this face."

In. Sufferable.

"Listen," he sighed. "As much as I would like to sit around and argue with you about which one of us is more annoying than the other, I will leave you here.

When I turn back around, we're going our separate ways.

Problem solved. And I will give you back your dagger when I can make sure that you won't stab me when I turn my back to you.

Which, might I add, is not right now." He took her shoulders into his hands and turned her so that she faced the direction of her garden. "You go that way."

"I'm not a dog. You can't just—"

"Nymiria, please, I am at the end of my patience and I have plenty of other important things to take care of at the moment. Now—go." He let go of her shoulders and willed himself away from her.

If he had it his way, he would have stayed.

He would have kept her in that forest for the rest of their lives if it meant he could convince her—if he could show her who she truly was or who he truly was.

But today was not that day. His patrolling shift was coming to an end, which meant that he had thirty minutes to prepare himself to meet with Camalia.

The message he received from her that morning felt like stones in his pocket, but he'd been lucky to have three weeks pass without her calling on him again.

She'd been busy with the Shidoshans, planning holidays and celebrations with them as if they'd been friends for ages.

He'd sat in on a few of the meetings and the Shidoshan princess, Oran's new fiance, looked like she wanted to make a run for it.

Aziel didn't blame her. In fact, he probably would have helped her if worse came to worse.

His legs were aching by the time he reached the door to Camalia's rooms. Shadows unfurled in the corner of the hall and though he couldn't see Trio behind the mass of darkness, he could still sense that his friend was there. Scowling at him, probably. Aziel merely shrugged and opened the door.

The symphony of thoughts that resounded through her mind made it hard for her to focus.

She could not grasp one single phrase, nor could she fruitfully dissect what Aziel had told her.

If Greia's heir was roaming around in Gaellagh, how could she possibly know who to look for?

Was it a feeling? A sense? She wasn't sure what Aziel expected of her, but there was no possible way she'd be able to help him.

It had been too long for her to know what Greia's presence truly felt like.

In her confusion, she wandered the grounds aimlessly for nearly two hours before eventually making her way back to her room.

She looked in the mirror at her reflection, using her palms to smooth away the wild hairs that were floating around her face.

Her eyes eventually traveled down to the flower on her chest, watching as it shimmered in the evening sun.

She turned to face the open armoire. The makeshift altar was one she'd made by gathering small relics from Dorid's office over the years.

She'd smuggled them all back to her rooms—placing them with the candles that had just been lit that morning for her prayers.

An urge to throw them all out, to burn them all was overwhelming.

She'd been faithful. She'd waited. And for there to not be a single sign of Greia's death, not a warning or a whisper, felt like a betrayal.

Perhaps you were not listening close enough.

Nymiria rolled her eyes, turning to look at the figure that loomed over her shoulder. "I listened."

Only for what you wanted to hear.

She didn't have time for his riddles. Usually, Owen's spirit was a guiding voice for her, but sometimes it was only a nuisance. "You can go away now." She huffed.

If you do not wish for me to be here, all you need to do is wish me away.

She didn't have time for that, either. Nor did she have the heart.

Talking to him like he was still here, being able to apologize for all of the things she did to fail him only helped to ease some of the guilt she carried with her every day.

The last three years since his death, that faint apparition and his voice were all she had to tether herself to who she once was and who she dreamed that she could be: someone lovable.

Someone who once dreamed of a future. Family. A real home.

Nymiria shook her head, pressing her palms against her temples and drawing in deep breaths until she felt her heart rate begin to slow.

She could help Aziel, but the truth was that she was terrified of where this path would lead her. She'd only ever known Greia to be her savior and she was scared that the new goddess would not deem her worthy enough to protect. She'd done far too many awful things.

"Where have you been?" Desi hissed. She was rushing into Nymiria's rooms with an armful of something red, embroidered with golden flowers.

Trying to hide the fact that she'd shed a single tear, Nymiria wiped her eyes and turned from where she sat at her vanity, her shoulders slumping when she realized it was another gown. A gift. A reminder. "I was hoping he'd forget." She grumbled.

"Well, he didn't." Desi tossed herself onto the bed, spreading out her arms and legs and groaning as she stretched.

"I'll never forgive him for making you live in this tower.

All those fucking stairs…" She shook her head.

"Although I have been meaning to ask you what its like living close to him. Aziel, I mean."