Page 49 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

Nymiria jumped when the doors to the receiving parlor burst open, her stomach tying in knots until her eyes landed on Oran's face.

Aziel was on his feet immediately, crossing the room and placing a hand to his brother's chest to stop him. "What are you doing here?" He asked.

Oran scoffed, throwing Aziel's hand away from him. "Let me see her." He snarled.

"She's traumatized, Oran. I believe you should calm down." Aziel said lowly, with a hint of a warning laced in his tone.

She couldn't just sit there and let them argue like this.

She didn't know the bounds of their relationship, if they cared for one another or deeply hated each other.

She didn't care, either. Nymiria rose to her feet.

"I'm fine." She declared, the sound of her voice causing both men to look in her direction. "Aziel saved my life."

Again, it was not a lie. He had saved her. In more ways than one.

Oran gave one final glance at his brother before shouldering past him, his hands immediately going to the curve of her jaw and angling her face to observe her closer.

He let out a deep breath, eyes closing and jaw tightening before he turned to Aziel.

"The two of you are either the smartest people to have ever walked the earth or the dumbest." He sighed.

Both Nymiria and Aziel exchanged worried glances before Oran shook his head and continued.

"I followed you both out into the garden that night.

I saw what the Mimic did. And while I don't agree with you taking her across the Divide, it was the best thing you could have done.

The hysteria it would have caused had Nymiria reappeared without Brandt—"

"Did they ever find the real body?" Aziel asked.

Oran nodded, moving away from Nymiria to card his fingers through his hair. "Yes, they found him a few miles south of Fairnam. His entire caravan was torn apart. All of his men faced the same death."

When she looked at him closer, she saw the purple circles under his eyes.

He was clearly exhausted. "So while your act of heroism saved her from being persecuted unjustly, it was incredibly stupid of you not to at least inform me.

The Mimic's accomplices have not been located and there is no telling where they are in the kingdom. "

"How do you know about all of this?" Nymiria questioned. "Are you aware of what Aziel is doing?"

Both brothers nodded, but it was Oran who spoke.

"Yes. And while I have done all in my power to ensure that his work does not get the Mystics he's saved killed, I am nearing the point where I cannot do much else.

They're onto you." He turned to Aziel again, eyes dark.

"And bringing her into all of this only makes matters worse for everyone. "

His ominous warning during their second meeting made more sense, as well as everything else he'd ever said. What Nymiria couldn't understand was why he even cared this much about her—she was just a Mystic. There was nothing about her that was worth any of his kindness.

"Nymiria will be sleeping in my rooms from now on." Oran started. Aziel's brow furrowed. "We can give off the impression that she is now sharing a bed with me. Dorid will have less questions."

Aziel shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"Don't I get any say in this?" Nymiria could have hit them both.

She glared in Aziel's direction. "You don't get to speak for me and neither does he.

I know Dorid better than both of you. And while I am not particular on sharing a room with anyone, the only logical plan would be for me to fulfill my duties as Dorid originally intended for me.

I will go with Oran at night, stay with him as long as it would take for people to believe we are bedding one another, and then return to my rooms afterwords. "

"Well," Aziel smirked. "In that case, you'd only need to be in his rooms for roughly five minutes."

She couldn't help it. She laughed. It was the second jest he'd made in her presence and she was still baffled that he even had a single humorous bone in his body.

Oran pressed his fingers against the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that sounded close to a prayer. "Now is not the time for jokes."

"I'm being generous. I added two minutes."

The prince looked as if he wanted to say something smart in response, but the sound of Dorid's voice in the hall made them all fall silent.

Nymiria returned to her place on the settee, making sure that she looked just as pitiful as Aziel wanted her to.

Oran moved behind the settee, his hands curling around the frame as Aziel plopped himself back into the chair across from her.

His gaze was an assurance—soft in a way that told her to remain calm and follow his plan.

She'd told him in the forest that she didn't trust him, but it was only a partial truth.

She knew he'd been lying and concocting stories that kept him alive for years and trusting him seemed only natural when it came to this.

The doors rattled against the walls when they slammed open again, neither of the brothers even flinching when Dorid strode across the room and dropped in front of where Nymiria lay.

"My darling," he panted. "My darling girl, I am so sorry for what has happened to you.

Please, you must tell me everything. Every small detail.

" His voice was filled with fear, with sorrow and regret.

Nymiria didn't believe an ounce of it.

What Aziel told her of his mother and Dorid's relationship was burned into her brain, her face scrunching with disdain when he pulled her into a bone-crushing embrace.

Still, she did as Aziel told her to do. She told him the story of the Mimic's attack in the garden, but instead of describing what Aziel had done to the vile creature, she went on and on about being captured—dragged into the forest by her hair, slipping underground into a dark, dank cavern.

She described the beast in detail, even going so far as to recount a false narrative of the other creatures that aided in her torture.

Finally, with eyes meeting Aziel's from across the room, she said: "And then I woke up in the forest again."

"Where in the forest?" Oran commanded, his tone entirely different from when he'd first spoken with her and Aziel. He wore the mask of a brutally handsome prince, one who was unforgiving and cruel when crossed.

Nymiria shrugged. "I… I'm not sure. I didn't recognize the location. Perhaps, Aziel…" She looked at him, pleading for him to say his piece at any moment.

The assassin released a sigh, rolling his eyes as he straightened his posture. "She was in the Divide, further north, but not far from here."

"Closer to Fairnam?"

Aziel nodded. "I can only speculate that they've created a mass tunnel system in the groves there. The hole that I pulled her out of was hardly big enough to be an entrance. It looked more like a peep hole of sorts."

Of course, the king looked interested. And while Nymiria, herself, felt a keen amount of disgust in regards to the Mimics, she also knew that Dorid would only use her story to further demonize Mystics as a whole.

She fell silent when Dorid moved away from her, listening intently as he spoke to his sons about their next course of action.

Dorid commanded for his men to patrol along the border of Yaar, sticking heavily to the tree lines.

He sent a group of twenty to scour the forest in search of the tunnels and tasked them to report back to him only when they'd found evidence of Mimic presence.

The conversation continued and Nymiria was finally dismissed, taking one final glance in Aziel's direction before she opened the door to the receiving parlor and was immediately met with the stench of Camalia's presence.

The guard posted at the door let out a low whistle that only her and the guard next to him could hear.

"I'd bet ten granites that both the bastard and the prince have bent her over the foot of their beds.

" Nymiria's head snapped in his direction, her face twisting with anger, but the guards only laughed.

Before she could utter the retort burning at the back of her throat, the receiving parlor doors closed and sharp claws wrapped around her wrist, jerking her forward until Camalia was merely inches away from her face. Nymiria squared her jaw, eyes locking on the queen's face.

She'd have been beautiful had she not been so evil.

Her eyes were blue like the deepest parts of the ocean and her hair was a golden brown that fell around her shoulders in loose waves.

The image of beauty, some would say, but Nymiria saw the monster that lurked under the surface, the darkness in the blacks of her eyes.

"If you value your life, you will listen to me and listen well, princess." Camalia sneered. "I want you to stay away from him, do you understand me?"

Anger roiled in the pit of her stomach, in that place inside of her that was thrashing with the desire for violent reprieve.

"Let go of me, you witch." She growled. Camalia's hand loosened a fraction, her shock at hearing what Nymiria called her was evident in the way her eyes widened.

"You think that I was too ill to remember, don't you?

The night I was brought here… you carved me up.

Put runes in my back to keep my Grace contained. "

The memory came flooding back to her out of nowhere, as if the place where their bodies were connected had sparked the darkened memory, bringing light to it all.

She snatched her arm away from the queen, cradling it against her chest as she stepped closer to her, their chests bumping.

"If you so much as extend your hand in my direction again, the entire kingdom will know what you do in those dungeons.

And they will persecute you just as viciously as they have persecuted me. Do you understand?"