Page 89 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

Bodies spent, they laid there for a moment, with nothing but the sound of their hearts pounding to fill their ears.

Before the sun could rise over Yaar, Aziel and Nymiria dressed themselves and left Dorid’s sleeping chambers, stealing a quick bite of breakfast from the kitchen before retiring to Aziel’s room.

They were silent as the sun began to rise, filling the room with a pale grey glow that forced solemn shadows over the floor.

She didn't want the night to end. She didn't want to pretend like there wasn't anything happening between the two of them, that their feelings for one another did not exist. Nymiria wanted to hold his hand, she wanted to kiss him in the halls and stay tucked away in the safety of his sheets every night.

But just like the time before, it seemed as if everything they'd done was to be nothing but a very good dream.

Aziel spent the greater part of that morning peppering kisses all over her body, touching and teasing her skin until she'd laughed and forced him to relax beside her. His hands were still trailing over every dip of her frame, eyes heavy with sleep when she let out a deep sigh.

"I suppose I should go see one of the healers for herbs to take after last night." She grumbled.

"Why?" Aziel smirked. "I'm barren, remember?"

Nymiria frowned as humiliation swallowed her, her brow furrowing as she remembered that conversation they'd had all those weeks ago. Even now, sadness filled her heart, but it was accompanied with a deep anger knowing why something so horrible had been done to him.

She hadn't realized that she was frowning until Aziel's finger pressed against the line between her eyebrows. "If you still want to be cautious, I will go and retrieve some herbs from Hilla right this moment."

Nymiria shook her head. "It's not that, it's…" Her voice broke off into a groan, not wanting to press that matter further or to cause him more pain by speaking on it. "It has nothing to do with you.”

"I understand." He smiled a sad smile before placing a chaste kiss upon her shoulder.

The room fell silent, but Nymiria was still trapped within the loud cells of her mind.

She wanted to know him. She wanted to know everything.

And for some insane reason, she couldn't bring herself to forget the odd relationship he had with the witch.

“You and Hilla…”

Aziel smiled as if she'd said something humorous.

Perhaps it was, she thought, maybe it was ridiculous for her to even feel an ounce of jealousy towards anyone.

Especially after what they'd just done and everything he'd told her.

She should have understood that things between her and Aziel went beyond any regular interaction.

“Hilla is just someone who helps me sometimes. An herbal witch that makes really potent salves that numb my hands. Yes, we had sex. Once. But I was lonely and angry, and to be fair, under the impression that my father had you wrapped around his finger.”

“You have no interest in her?”

“No. And she doesn’t have an interest in me, either. She’s in love with Lorelei.”

One of his hands was currently resting on her thigh, his thumb moving around her skin in idle circles.

She wondered about his hands, never having quite enough courage to ask about them.

Whether inward or outward, scars were a delicate topic of discussion, but seeing as how open he was being about things they’d never discussed, Nymiria drew in a deep breath to steady herself before asking the question that nagged at her whenever she saw him quickly stuffing his hand back into his gloves.

He could feel her staring at him, could see her eyes dropping to where his hand was placed upon her leg.

“What happened to your hands, Aziel?” Nymiria whispered.

He was silent for a moment. Though the muscles and tendons in his hands screamed to be hidden, he let her see them.

There was not a single piece of his soul that he would not bare to her, even if it caused him pain.

Nymiria had dealt with her pain right in front of him.

She had confronted the most sinister demons that haunted her in the night.

And though it hurt her, she did it with an admirable grace that he only hoped to mimic.

“I held my mother as she died.” He began, flinching slightly as she took his hand between her own.

“When a person’s throat is slit, there is…

so much blood. After Camalia was finally able to convince me to let go of my mother, she had the servants bathe me.

But every night, for years, I scrubbed my hands and clawed at them until they bled because I could not get the feeling of her blood off of my hands.

When I was twelve, I had a mental lapse.

I ended up dousing my hands in Dorid’s alcohol and setting them on fire at the dinner table, forcing him to watch as they burned.

” Nymiria peered up at him, her chest aching when she saw the tears glistening in his eyes.

“It didn’t help. It never got rid of that feeling.

And if I don’t wear the gloves, I’ll eventually start scratching at them again. ”

He had been so young. Lilith Haze died in his arms when he was six years old.

For a child to have to struggle with that sort of nightmare…

it was unimaginable. Nymiria’s heart ached for that child that held his mother, for the boy who couldn’t take his pain anymore, and for the man that still struggled with those memories to this day.

“You don’t wear them when you touch me.” She whispered.

Aziel shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“I don’t need to. Touching you… being able to feel you and not dried blood cracking on my fingers, it’s something I’ve never—" He struggled to find the words to say to her, but the way she looked at him said that he didn't need to explain anything. She understood. “When it comes to what I do, I don’t want you to believe that I actually enjoy killing people. There is such a thing as a necessary evil, moonflower. And if it meant protecting the ones I love, I would gladly become anyone’s villain.” He paused for a moment, watching as her finger brushed over the raised, disfigured skin on his hands.

“Just like respect, brutality is earned. It’s not something I partake in to satisfy some sort of craving.

Perhaps it is just another after effect of her death—wanting to destroy the things that hurt the ones I love.

I’m sure I felt it then, as a boy, but I’m strong enough now that I can actually do something about it. ”

“You don’t have to justify anything, Aziel.

There is nothing about you or what you have done that could make me see you any differently.

Besides, I would be lying if I told you that I didn’t enjoy it a little,” she sighed.

“Knowing that all of those horrible people were dead. Doesn’t really matter how brutal it is, just as long as it happens. ”

Nymiria moved into his side, his arm falling around her frame and pulling her against him. “I’ve never told anyone these things before.”

"How about an even exchange?" She asked.

"You told me a secret, now I can tell you one of mine.

" Staying silent, Aziel nodded. She looked at him for just a moment, assessing the melancholy that consumed him before releasing a sigh.

She'd never told a single soul about her childhood.

As much as she would have liked to, she felt that it was too much of a burden to place on someone.

She feared the looks she would receive—the pity, the apologies that would do absolutely nothing to take away the confusion that living with her mother had left her with.

"When I was eight, my mother offered to sell me to a man from overseas in exchange for an alliance. She didn't trust humans or many Mystics, for that matter. She wanted fae alliances. People with power. And this man, this beast of a man, had been breeding an army for hundreds of years."

"Breeding—" Aziel sat up straighter, prepared to unleash hateful spillage, but Nymiria simply lifted her hand and patted his thigh. His jaw clenched, hands forming fists at his side.

"Nothing ever came of it. Thorn said some pretty horrible things to my mother that night.

I could hear him yelling on the other side of the palace.

But, yes, he planned on breeding me. He said that Birthers received luxuries and that I would be taken care of, that I wouldn't have to worry about a thing.

Not even raising the child." She worried at her lip, roving over words in her mind that could convey what she wanted to tell.

"I was thirteen when my Grace started to show and mother would have me perform for the court.

She considered my Grace to be something to entertain guests, but there was one night…

I didn't feel well. Though I told her that I felt like I was going to vomit, she insisted.

She dragged me from my room by my hair and forced me to grow flowers for everyone.

But, being such a young age, I grew tired very quickly.

I ended up vomiting on someone." In feeling her body tensing at his side, Aziel uncurled his hand and moved it to where hers rested, their fingers interlocking.

His warmth settled over her, comforting the bitter chill of the old wound.

"She gave me lashings that night. She forced me to grow my own vine and then whipped me with it. "

There were other things, of course. But all of the memories were relatively the same. Inasha could be cruel and dismissive—neglectful, even. She could also be loving at times, bombarding her with gifts and praise as if Nymiria were the most perfect daughter anyone could ask for.

Perhaps that was why Dorid’s treatment of her felt like love at times. That sort of emotional chaos was all she’d ever known.

"If you ever see your mother again, Nymiria, you'd better kill her before I do."