Page 33 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

The receiving parlor had been decorated specifically for the duke. Fairnam flags were posted around the room, the crest hanging over the hearth like a prized kill.

In the last thirty years since the Yaarboroughs conquered Fairnam and claimed it for the humans, it's become quite the beacon of triumph.

It's been the first successful siege of Mystic lands in Gaellagh under Dorid's reign.

Before him, Jaegh Yaarborough was able to take control of at least five, making their portion of the continent on this side of the divide far larger than it had once been.

The divide was merely a chain of mountains that split their continent in half and while Dorid had been trying for years to have all of Mystic territory under his control, the forest that was notoriously called Yaar's Wander, was extremely hard to navigate.

Which made it increasingly difficult for Dorid to make the first successful settlements.

He'd had her kingdom at one point in time, but lost it all in a bet with some other Duke or Baron that she'd forgotten the name of. They had died tragically. And by tragically, she meant that she'd stabbed him directly in his heart while on top of him.

“You’re the closest to the border, Brandt.

I can send some of my best men to survey the land beyond The Divide, but moving a whole platoon of my soldiers to Fairnam is risky.

The beasts have eyes everywhere.” Dorid was trying to reason with the duke, preparing for another siege, but Brandt was reluctant.

He kept making faces that did not please the king and though it was not direct opposition, it was enough to give Dorid a reason to believe that he was being betrayed.

Nymiria did her best to sit pretty, twirling her foot to stave off her desire to take her dagger—shit, her dagger.

Aziel still had it.

The kill orders placed on her mattress that morning were clear and precise: death by stab wound.

There was a servant that was supposed to be present that evening that was once one of Brandt’s trusted advisors, but was stripped of his titles upon the duke discovering him in bed with the duchess.

It hadn’t ended well. Dorid was planning on framing the servant for the entire thing—had even gone so far as planting a dagger in the servant’s room for authorities to find.

As if he could hear her thoughts and feel the sweat on her palms, the doors opened in the parlor to reveal the bastard prince. He stalked into the room without once glancing in her direction, his eyes focused on the handkerchief he was using to clean blood off of a blade.

Her blade.

Nymiria swiftly rose to her feet, her elbow bumping into Brandt’s on her way up. A slew of curses sounded from the duke’s mouth, all decorum lost when he jumped up and started swatting at the red stain covering the front of his blue and white jacket.

Aziel looked up at her right as Brandt grabbed her arm and jerked her to the side.

“You wretched female,” Brandt snapped. “Hasn’t anyone taught you any fucking manners?”

Dorid heaved a sigh on the other side of the room, his knuckles cracking and his back going taut. “Everyone out!” His boom of a voice silenced the frenzy, Brandt’s hand even loosening on her arm at the command.

Slowly, Dorid’s guests began to filter out of the parlor, leaving his personal guards and Aziel as the only souls left in the room. She couldn’t look at him—couldn’t bear to see what his reaction would be to her punishment.

It was already shameful enough to have everyone staring at her.

Her astonishment still had her stunned, confused at the way Brandt had grabbed her when he'd always been so kind before.

And though the familiar dip of fear in her stomach was there, it was acquainted with her anger and all of her shame when she saw Dorid getting closer.

You’ve become reckless.

She bit her cheek hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste filling her mouth as Dorid stepped towards her.

It was a calculated stride, one used to incite fear in all those who beheld it. He’d used it on her only four times in the last ten years and all of those times had been the result of her insolence.

She tightened her hands into fists, holding her breath when that putrid smell of death began wafting through the room.

Before she could muster an apology that wouldn’t have even mattered, Dorid’s hand fell across her face with such force that her whole body kicked to the side.

The slap resounded off the walls, filling the room with such a silence that she could not even hear the guards breathing anymore.

All she heard was the angry heartbeat in her ears, the ringing of her ire as she slowly straightened herself enough to look at him.

Dorid merely jerked at the lapels of his jacket and turned to his bastard son, who was now holding himself up on the back of the sofa, his gloved hand gripping the crushed velvet so hard that he’d punctured holes in the fabric.

His face was paler than usual, his eyes filled with such malice that it seemed as if Aziel was the one who’d received the hit and not her.

Her brow crumpled, her hand moving to the hot, red hand print Dorid left on her face.

“I have no idea what caused you to jump up like some insane woman, nor do I care. But I do know that it would be wise for you to continue this night without so much as a single whisper of an incident. Make it up to him in the best way you know how, allow us to close our deal, and then you kill him. Is that understood?” Dorid stated.

Nymiria nodded. “Yes, your majesty.”

“Even if it required you to fuck it out of him, I want that greedy little bastard to sign his men over to me.”

“I can assure you that you will not be disappointed in me again.” It was all she could say. It was all she knew to say. Even though her mind drifted back to the promise he’d made of her never having to share a bed with any man other than his son, Nymiria agreed.

She shouldn’t have.

If she’d listened to that nagging voice inside of her that wanted to claim justice once and for all, they wouldn’t even be having this conversation.

Aziel wouldn’t be looking at his father like he wanted to rip his heart from his chest. And the guards wouldn’t be exchanging glances with one another.

If she had only listened to what her heart truly wanted, she wouldn’t have taken the long way out. She would have killed Dorid ten years ago.

"Have someone help you look presentable." Dorid's eyes dropped to her cheek, not an ounce of remorse present on his cruel and handsome face. He only nodded to his guards before turning on his heel and leaving the room.

Nymiria did not spare Aziel a single glance before she walked out of the room. She kept her chin high and her teeth clenched as she moved down the hall. He was behind her, following her. No matter which turn she took or stairwell she descended, Aziel was right behind her.

Her anger swelled with each moment that passed, her heart rate accelerating the closer he came.

By the time she'd reached the door that led to the gardens, Nymiria was nearly in a full sprint.

But he was still there—ominous and a reminder of everything she wished she could have left in that room.

It'd worked all the times before, she walked out of whatever room Dorid cornered her in like nothing happened. Pretending was easier than remembering.

By the time she breached the gate of her garden, Nymiria finally turned to face him, her incisors clawing against her gums, her glamour slipping. "Did you follow me all this way to see the aftermath?" She started, stomping towards him and shoving at his chest. "Haven't you seen enough?"

Aziel's lips were a thin line, his eyes still fixed on her throbbing cheek.

The red was already starting to turn purple.

Bruising her. He bit back his snarl of frustration, his death roiling in his gut with a pain that was equivalent to having a blade driven through his abdomen.

Keeping it contained was painful in moments like these, but unleashing the snatcher of souls was impossible at the moment.

And he finally had her right where he wanted her.

He shook his head, slipping his hand into the his jacket and retrieving her dagger. Without so much as a word, Aziel extended it to her.

Nymiria blinked down at the silver blade, her breaths still uneven and her heart still pounding.

For the life of her, she could not grasp what this man's intentions were, but at this moment, she knew that it was a peace offering.

If only for the night. She reminded herself of what Trio had told her, of Desi's pleas to spare Aziel his life, before she took the dagger into her own hand and tucked it at her side.

"Aim for his heart, little Mystic." Aziel stated blandly. There was no emotion in his eyes, just a vast emptiness that seemed to swallow her whole.

She wasn't sure if he was referring to Brandt or Dorid, but it didn't matter. She felt her anger simmer, breaths coming out with much less force than before. "Aziel—"

He shook his head, lifting his hand to silence her. "If you do this for anyone, let it be for yourself. That's all I ask."

In the grand scheme of things, it was likely a poor decision to give her back her weapon, but Aziel did not care.

He couldn't walk away from her knowing that she was unarmed.

He was starting to see her truth. Bit by bit, more of what drove Nymiria's decisions were being revealed.

And underneath all of it, he still saw that scared little Mystic in an iron cage—begging for something, anything to take her pain away.

Even death.

Nymiria nodded, eyes dropping to her dagger once again. And when she looked up at him and smiled, Aziel had to force himself to turn and walk away.

She looked down at the deep red drink in her hand, swirling it in the crystal glass before Nymiria turned her head and began scanning the crowd.