Page 69 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)
The night she spent with Aziel had come and gone, a full day having passed since Trio had walked them through the shadows and deposited them back into the palace. The revelry ended and the world slept, but Aziel was already leaving the moment he ensured that she was tucked away safely in her room.
She hadn't seen him since.
A part of her ached at the thought, fearing she might have just done the trick to push him away completely.
It seemed to be how it always worked—men could handle all of the weight of her body, but not a single ounce of her soul.
Perhaps it was better that way. The two of them together would undoubtedly bring her more heartbreak and internal ruin. It was inevitable, given her past.
Her mind had wandered to the most dangerous and daunting of all scenarios; she was not meant to be loved.
She was meant to be beheld, a thing for others to use and discard when they were finished.
A courtesan. An assassin. Not a lover and certainly not anything more than that.
Her tumultuous emotions were confusing enough for herself, she couldn't imagine just how bewildered Aziel must have been.
It must have been something ingrained in her from birth, some sort of inherent way of being that made her keep those closest to her at a distance.
Her mother had been the same way. She wanted to believe that she was nothing like Inasha Celentas, but the more she observed herself, the more she started to see it—her own cold nature, her reluctance to share herself with people who genuinely cared for her.
Perhaps she hadn't been born this way, but the world had done a wonderful job at forcing her to become like the woman she'd tried so desperately to forget.
When the next morning came, Dorid was already calling for her.
The messenger he sent came bearing gifts that she was sure were intended to keep her feeling valued.
As she dressed herself in the beautiful pink gown with purple accents and large diamond earrings that weighed at her lobes, she only felt cheap.
Dorid saw her the same way that he saw all of the other Mystics.
He believed that they could be bought with shiny, fancy things and you would have their undying loyalty.
He believed that it was all that it took, that their thoughts and feelings, and their autonomy did not matter.
Perhaps her mistake was thinking that she was worth more than that, or believing that she actually could matter to anyone at all.
Nymiria watched Dorid pace his study, his broad hands flexing around the hilt of the silver sword that hung at his side. Her mind was already flickering through different scenarios of how her death might be carried out. She always thought that it would be quite interesting to be beheaded.
When she received word that he wanted to see her, she knew that he was angry with her. She knew that he would ask questions about Aziel, about why she hadn't killed him yet.
"You've disappointed me, darling."
Making a noise at the back of her throat, she sat up straighter. “Is there something wrong, your highness?” She asked.
Dorid paused and looked at her as if he weren’t the one to have summoned her. As if he’d just realized that she was still sitting there. “Nymiria, I am worried.”
“About what?” The tension eased a little.
That he was still so eager to spill his thoughts into her lap was a good sign, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he knew what’d happened with Seamus, that he could smell Aziel on her or that there was someone who knew of her and Aziel in general—that they were working with one another, that they'd been intimate with one another.
There were a number of things he could know.
I'm going to faint.
She needed something to fan herself with.
"I gave you one month to kill that bastard of mine and you have yet to succeed. What is the issue here? Need I send you to Philter again? Or will I just have to dirty my name and kill Aziel myself?"
Nymiria sighed. This was not the best idea she'd ever had, but it was worth her at least trying to reason with him.
She needed more time. "Aziel has been loyal to you.
He's killed every person that you assigned to him and he's gone to great lengths to protect Prince Oran.
Perhaps I'm just confused as to why you believe he's conspiring with the Mystics. "
"That is for me to know." He growled. "I gave you orders, Nymiria.
Why I gave them to you is of none of your concern.
" He stepped around the length of his desk, looking at her so intently that it made her blood boil.
"He has been a blemish on my family line for far too long—Aziel was not supposed to happen. "
"Why do you hate him so much, yet you love me? A Mystic."
Dorid ground his teeth together, his face turning so red that it neared purple.
"He is not just a Mystic, Nymiria—he is a beast from hell.
He is a demon that walks the earth and poisons it with his rot.
He wears the Crown of Devils and I have seen it—I have seen the demon that lurks beneath his skin, no different from the demons that are now wandering this kingdom wearing false skins. He is a plague, a disease."
She felt the prickling under her skin, the power building below her lungs, swelling and expanding inside of her.
The runes on her spine flared with pain, setting fire to her body.
Nymiria curled her fingers around her skirts, muttering hushed assurances to herself in order to stay calm.
Sure, Aziel had done his absolute best in making her look like some hormonal fool, but he was not a demon.
She'd seen and heard far too much to believe that to be true.
"Do you think that you could protect my kingdom the same as I do? Do you think that you could run this kingdom as well as I have?" His voice bellowed through the room. Weeks ago, Nymiria would have flinched at such an outburst. At this moment, she remained entirely still.
Inside of her, a creature smiled and bared its razor-sharp teeth in the face of the cowardly bastard that stood before her. But on the outside, she was complacent. Pliable and soft with rounded eyes filled with tears.
No, she thought. I'd do it better.
Her eyes moved to the dagger on his desk, just sitting there and gleaming under the soft golden light.
She reached forward, preparing to grab it and put an end to all of this once and for all.
The moment her hand extended towards the metal, Dorid sprang towards her, fingers curling around her wrists in vise-like hold.
“What is this?” He asked. With one sharp movement, he jerked her forward, nearly pulling her into the floor.
Her eyes went wide as she followed his gaze to the place where the cuff of her dress separated from her hands.
The silver vines of her brand gleamed in the light, flashing wildly with opalescent hues.
Dorid snarled as he ripped the glove from her hand, snatching her fingers and yanking them closer to his face.
“Who did this to you?” He demanded loudly.
“No one, your highness. They just appeared.”
He was so angry that his body trembled. She could see veins bulging from his neck, his eyes wide with horror as he pushed up her sleeve.
“Stand up.” He demanded. Nymiria blinked up at him, her mouth ajar.
The words he spoke didn’t quite register, but with another pull at her arm, she was stumbling to her feet.
Dorid turned her around, his fingers angrily moving her hair away from the back of her dress.
She was powerless, her moment to end Dorid had been taken from her again, her body riddled with fear as his hands began moving over her shoulder blade. The touch brought her worst nightmares to life, a feeling of vulnerability she wished she'd never have to feel again. But it just kept happening.
She flinched at the sound of tearing fabric, at the cold glide of his blade along the ribbons of her corset.
And when the fabric fell away from her shoulders and was roughly yanked down to her waist, she closed her eyes.
There was not just fear, but shame that she felt when he moved around to the front of her body.
Nymiria knew that those vines covered every inch of her arms and legs, she knew that those flowers were bold against the white of her skin.
And he could see all of it—every inch of her nakedness bared to him.
Aziel had said it would be a problem once they appeared and she'd done her best to keep them concealed.
But it wasn't just the new moonflowers and vines that Dorid was talking about.
With narrowed eyes, his thumb brushed over the place on her neck that was purple from Aziel's mouth.
“Someone did this to you.” He hissed, moving so close to her that she could smell the remnants of his dinner on his breath. “Someone has marked you.”
Eyes still closed, she shook her head. Her fingers shamefully curled around the thick fabric of the ruined dress, his own hands now moving over her shoulders.
“I swear, your highness. I have no clue—“ Nymiria gasped, swallowing her words when Dorid gripped her throat and turned her head to the side.
His thumb brushed over the place where Aziel had sucked at her skin—where he had licked and kissed at her flesh until she was a writhing mess underneath him.
“Was it my son?” He asked through bared teeth.
“It was Oran.” She lied. “The marks on my neck are from Oran.”