Page 51 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

Desi crushed Nymiria in her arms, wrapping her up in an embrace so tight that the air could hardly enter her lungs. She gave a strained chuckle, pressing her forehead to Desi’s shoulder before pulling away.

“Are you alright?” Her friend asked, thumb grazing over the slash on her face. “Trio told me the plan to get you back here, but you look like you’ve been through utter hell.”

The furthest thing from it.

Having been in Yaar for only a few hours, she’d been stripped and searched, and forced into a chastity belt.

Oran was said to be the only one that held the only key.

Which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because she now knew that he was doing everything in his power to help Aziel so they were theoretically all on the same side, and a curse because she didn’t really enjoy the thought of having him unlock it every night.

Thankfully, the new markings Aziel had given her were concealed by the layers of dirt and grime they’d smeared all over her. The guards that searched her were quick and careless, really. Only searching for new runes and weapons. She had nothing new to show them in that respect.

But she hadn’t been through hell at all, not beyond these walls. Her brief time in the Beyond was akin to melting out of a glamour at the end of a long day. Like removing her corset and filling her lungs with a large gulp of air for the first time in hours.

She had been completely free.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Desi whispered solemnly.

Nymiria hadn’t realized she looked so sad, she believed in her ability to mask her emotions for the most part, but there was a deep and separate melancholy inside of her that seemingly insisted on rising to the surface.

Seeing the Beyond, being in the place she’d only seen in dreams for the last ten years, roused so many emotions inside of her—memories of her guard, of of the friends she once had, of the life she'd had before.

That comforting warmth settled over her chest again, erasing the dull ache around her heart completely.

Nymiria sighed. “A bath would be nice.” She grumbled, reaching down to knock on the harsh metal enclosed around her lower half. “Unfortunately, I’m not sure how long that will be.”

Desi waved a hand at her, flashing a mischievous grin before digging into her pocket and procuring a silver key. "Aziel slipped this to me on my way up. You're as good as free."

Although it was peculiar that Aziel was in possession of the key instead of Oran, Nymiria shrugged it off, giving her thanks to Desi before she took the key into her hands and unlocked the belt.

The moment the metal loosened from her hips, she let out a sigh of relief and kicked the contraption as far away from her as she could.

She washed herself over and over again until the feeling of Dorid's clammy hands and the smell of metal were cleansed from her skin.

The dirt and grime that she and Aziel had spread all over her body turned the water brown within minutes.

Another two tub-fulls of water later, Nymiria deemed herself clean enough and walked out into her rooms, throwing herself onto her bed.

It wasn't nearly as soft as Aziel's bed and if she had to guess, it would have to have been due to the difference in materials.

All the beds in Yaar were stuffed with straw—hard and with very little bounce.

Whereas Aziel's bed was surely stuffed with goose-feathers and more than likely sewn together by fluffy white clouds.

Everything here smelled like fatty meat, smoke, and damp, porous stone. The Beyond smelled like cherry blossoms and warm teas, like blooming flowers and grass and…

No. Loving that place had only ended up with her disappointing everyone. She didn't want to go there. She couldn't go back.

She shook the thought from her head, finally rolling onto her side right as Desi slipped beside her.

They talked for hours after Nymiria finally dressed herself.

Desi told her of the rumors that'd spread and the hysteria that arose when everyone discovered that there was a coven of Mimics hiding themselves in troves around Yaar.

She told her of Dorid's temper tantrum when no one could find her, how he broke down into hysterics when it was believed that she and Mimic-Brandt had eloped.

Nymiria just smiled and listened.

Time passed, her mind wandering in and out of the fantasy world she'd left behind. But there was one face that never seemed to leave both realities.

Aziel.

Nymiria wasn't sure how long she waited before she heard him coming up the stairs.

Desi had long-since excused herself for the night and the moon was already high in the sky.

Each step he took seemed to drag on the wooden staircase, signifying that he was exhausted.

It made sense considering all that they'd been through earlier that day, but when she opened the door and saw him turning towards his own rooms, her heart fluttered.

He didn't seem to have noticed that she was watching him—his forehead and palms pressed against his door, his chest rising and falling at such a quick pace that the mood swiftly shifted into something darker.

Their relationship hadn't changed, she had to remember that.

He was still a nuisance, still obnoxiously full of himself, and mean.

He'd hardly been nice to her. She should not have cared this much about what he was feeling, but she did.

And the urge to approach him and console him was stronger than ever, her brow furrowing at her own thoughts.

"Are you alright?" She whispered.

His hands and head still resting against the door, Aziel turned his face to look at her.

"Go away." Though he meant it, the words did not hold the usual bite that they would have earlier that day.

He sounded tired. He looked tired. Like all of the life and power had been drained from him completely.

"I won't leave until you tell me you are fine." She insisted.

Perhaps it was not her place to be worried over him at all, but it seemed impersonal for her to not, at the very least, ask.

He shook his head, shoving himself away from the door only to right himself. "Good night, Nymiria."

There was not another word spoken. Her first instinct was to follow him and annoy him enough to have him talk to her, but even she knew what that look on his face meant.

Something happened. Whether it was a death or some form of a punishment, she wasn't sure, but that sort of sadness was only recognizable to someone who experienced it before. A sadness of the soul.

Nymiria did not like Aziel, but he had saved her life. And he'd proven that he wasn't entirely against her, nor did he hate her. And as much as it should have bothered her to feel the way she did, there was no force strong enough that could stop her from being concerned about him.

Spending the rest of the night in her rooms did not sound appealing to her. She needed… something.

Guidance.

There was a guilt that'd started eating away at her earlier in the day, a deep desire to spread herself on the ground in her garden and connect with the bones that were under the surface.

In the three years that Owen had been gone, she'd never been apart from him for more than eight hours. She visited him every single day. And while his ghost still haunted her—

She paused.

The candle in her hand flickered, her brow furrowing once again as she peered around the dark hall, only to be met with silence.

Not an eerie silence, but… a still silence. One that was not interrupted by flashes of green eyes, nor seductive whispers that would snake down her spine. The world around her did not give a single hint of her ghost being present. And, when she really thought about it, she hadn't heard him in days.

Panic began to settle into the hollow of her stomach, her chest heaving as she turned towards the stairs and bound down them as quickly as she could. Nymiria flew through the halls, her candle extinguished and abandoned the moment it had burnt out.

Each hall was silent.

Each turn she took, she was greeted by uninterrupted darkness.

Owen was not there.

The panic inside of her slowly burned to a rage, at the realization of what she'd agreed to—of what Aziel meant when he said he took her weakness away.

That guiding voice, the one that whispered reassurances and guided her through all of her self-loathing and guilt was gone, replaced with a silence that was too quiet to be comforting at all.

She'd spent the last three years following that voice, making her decisions based upon the curvature of those deep green eyes that always haunted her peripheral vision.

Before Nymiria could realize where she had gone, she found herself staring at the large iron gate that housed what she could only explain as her heart.

Owen might not have loved her, but she loved him. It was real for her. It was real.

It was real.

That strange, yet familiar warmth settled over her soul as she placed her hand upon the unlocked gate.

When she finally gathered the strength to push it open, Nymiria could do nothing but fall to the ground on all fours and curl her fingers around those vicious vines that had taken claim of her garden.

All of her hard work…

She shook her head, pushing as hard as she could against that comforting warmth that tried to shield her from the pain in her heart. She wanted to feel it. Right now, she didn't want to be heartless.

She wanted a sign. A whisper of an answer. But there was nothing at all, save for her memories.

Her mind flashed to Dorid, remembering all of the times he'd hit her, all of the times he talked down to her or demeaned her in the presence of the nobles in this realm.

She remembered the humiliation of being sold, of being paraded around like some gods-damned show pony for his friends to marvel at and pet.