Page 92 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

Aziel didn’t think twice before busting the door open and all it took was one look from Desi for him to know exactly what had happened to her.

Nymiria was asleep on his bed, curled into a ball under his blankets.

He moved closer to her as slow as possible, careful not to jostle the bed and disturb her.

Desi backed away to give them space, but only by a few paces.

"Did you check her?" He whispered, eyes moving over every visible inch of her face.

She looked peaceful though her lips and eyes were still swollen from crying.

It was enough to make his death gnash its teeth deep inside of him, but he bit back against the pain it caused him to not let it loose, fingers curling into fists as he looked down at Nymiria.

"I checked her." Desi said quietly. "It was Dorid. She's been asleep for hours. Her powers…"

It was all the confirmation he needed. Aziel rose to his feet swiftly, already thumbing the blade at his side before calling over his shoulder to the healer. "Send for the Rune Witch immediately to have the rest of her runes removed. And get your brother here now."

He didn't need to see Desi to sense her fear, he could feel the tremors in her hands as she nodded. "What are you going to do, Aziel? You can't kill them, you will only hurt yourself—"

He turned to her then, trying his best to compose himself enough to not be harsh with her, but she picked the wrong time to question things.

"I don't care. When it comes to her, I'll die a million deaths, one right after the other, to ensure that not another soul touches a single hair on her head.

" He prepared to turn back to the path he intended to make, but guilt weighed at him enough to face Desi again.

"If anything does happen to me, Desi, know that I love you and Trio as if you were my own siblings. Take care of her."

Desi opened her mouth, surely to try and convince him to stay, but Aziel was already charging down the halls.

The moment he left that room, his anger completely encompassed him, his vision tunneled and focused solely on finding the king.

"WHERE IS HE?” Aziel’s voice bellowed through each hall, each hidden corner of the palace.

His name was a traveling whisper in the silenced revelry—music subsided, glasses fell from poised grips as they turned and watched the doors to the ballroom burst open.

Roots twisted through the crowd of revelers, ensnaring them and holding each person in place.

Their life force slowly leeching from their bodies, their eyes focused upon the demon that was now walking in a direct path towards their king.

Dorid turned slowly, his face had been red from his indulgence, a wet spot on his coat from the absinthe that had sloshed from his cup.

Now, looking at the son he’d all but abandoned, his face was white.

The vibrant blue liquid in his cup spilled to the floor, dowsing his shoes.

Aziel’s glamour had fallen the moment he left his room.

He was in his full godly form—black horns curling out from the black roots on his head, black veins cutting through porcelain skin, his incisors elongated and itching to rip at Dorid’s fat neck.

The Demon of the Forest.

No matter how badly he wanted them to, the roots of his death could not touch him.

But he didn’t need them for what he was about to do.

With his knife already pulled from its rightful place at his thigh, Aziel climbed the stairs of the dais.

He was quick with his approach, not giving his father a single moment to react when he gripped the King of Yaar’s ridiculously golden jacket and pulled him close.

“Aziel…” Dorid’s eyes helplessly searched the crowd for someone that could help him, but his revelers were all shriveling. “You can’t do this.”

Even though the runes on his back burned so harshly that it felt like his skin was dripping from his bones, Aziel had made the decision to never give in.

Not now—not for her. His pain was minuscule to the heartbreak she’d endured, the torture she’d live with for the rest of her life.

All because of selfish men who gained pleasure from breaking something strong.

“Oh, but I can. And I will.” Aziel pressed his blade to the front of Dorid’s breeches, slicing through the strings that kept them tied at his waist. They fell to the ground, the sound echoing through the room just as he released the crowd from his roots.

Gasping breaths sounded around him, people breathing life into their lungs just long enough so that he could show them what kind of a man their king truly was.

With Dorid’s pants hugging his ankles, Aziel shoved him forwards to the edge of the dais. The people of Yaar beheld him, watching in stunned silence, as Aziel ran his knife along the rough hairs of Dorid’s cheek.

“When was the last time you had a proper shave?” He hummed.

Dorid’s mouth opened and closed, gaping around trembled pleas that fell upon deaf ears.

Aziel smiled, watching as the beads of sweat on his father’s temple began to cascade down his face.

He switched the blade from his father's cheek to what dangled between his legs, and began to cut. Aziel didn’t stop.

He made a slow job of it all, sawing back and forth with calculated precision, prolonging the torture one layer of flesh at a time until Dorid’s genitalia plopped onto the gilded staircase the led to his throne.

Many people vomited. A plethora of men and women, alike, fainted. But…

All. Of. Them. Watched.

Aziel pulled his father close, until his teeth were grazing his ear and he smiled as he spoke to him in a voice quiet enough for only him to hear.

“You will live like this for the rest of your miserable, pathetic life. Death will not come for you today, but when I do, it will be my greatest performance of all.”

“P-please…”

“DO NOT SPEAK.” Dorid flinched at Aziel’s yell, his body growing still with blood loss.

He could hear it dripping to the floor, spilling down the stairs and pooling around his pride.

Aziel brought the blade to Dorid’s throat then, hooking the curve of it under his chin. “Get down there and pick it up.”

When his father did not move, Aziel let loose a ferocious growl, shoving him down the stairs until he landed mere feet away from his own cock. “Pick it up.” He repeated.

Dorid trembled as he reached for his manhood, only for the sound of a throat clearing to draw both his and Aziel's attention to the golden throne behind them. Camalia arched her brow in his direction, impassively flicking a brown curl over her shoulder.

"What a show." She sighed. "Aziel, darling, I can tell you are in pain. Put the knife down and take a deep breath."

“You fucking cunt—" With his blade pointed in her direction, Aziel strode across the dais to where Camalia sat.

She was the image of poised perfection, her proud sneer never faltering.

Not even when her husband lay nearly lifeless on the stairs next to his cock.

“You said that you would protect her from this. We had a deal.”

“Yes, darling, and that deal was made with amendments. You had rules that you, yourself, neglected to follow. The moment you looked at her in a sexual way, you damned her to a life of pain. To which,” she huffed a laugh and shoved herself to her feet.

“I must say, Aziel, it seems that pain is all you are good at delivering.” She walked towards him until the sharpened end of his knife touched her chest, blood so crimson that it was nearly black, spilling down to the bodice of her dress.

Fire flared up his back, but Aziel stood tall.

Though his knees quaked at the pain around his spine, he did not give in.

“It’s a shame, isn’t it? To want to protect the thing you love the most, but have absolutely no way of achieving it.

The greatest shame of all.” Camalia trailed her fingers over the seam of his blazer, hooking her fingers on the ornament that was clasped to each side.

“Put the knife down, walk out of this throne room, and go. Don’t come back.

Run as far away as you can and stay there.

If you dare to set foot in this kingdom again, your sweet and precious Nymiria will suffer in the most unimaginable way possible.

And I will ensure that it is all done right in front of you. Or by you.”

He was trembling. His whole body shook. Every fiber of his being wished to drive that knife further into her chest and stab and stab and stab at her putrid little heart until there was nothing left of it but pulverized meat.

Aziel held onto the blade with what little strength he had left and, yet, it eventually clattered to the floor between their feet.

There was no fighting her.

“Go.” She whispered. Smiling.

He didn’t want to. Nymiria was up in their tower, in the bed that they shared, and though she wasn’t alone, he did not want to be gone when she woke up. He wanted to stay.

“You'd have to kill me first, you bitch.” He promised.

Camalia only smirked at him, her blue eyes moving to the ornament once again. With one harsh tug, she ripped it from his chest and curled it into the palm of her hand. “I can arrange that, I suppose. But it would certainly put a damper on this lovely evening.”

Aziel's ears began to vibrate. The burning in his spine was making it harder to keep standing.

If he pushed against her and her power for much longer, he feared that he just might die from the amount of pain that coursed through his body.

But with the image of Nymiria in his mind, he dug his feet into the ground and clenched his teeth around a pained cry.

They continued to stare at one another, locked in a test of might, until the sound of boots clicking against the tile floor made Camalia's eyes flicker towards the path that'd been cleared in the center of the room.

She let out a huff of a laugh, rolling her eyes when she looked at the man standing in a swirl of shadows.

"You think you can frighten me with your little magic tricks, Demetrios?"

Trio smiled back at her as he climbed the stairs, stopping as soon as he reached Aziel's side. "I don't think anything can scare a witch like you. You're the ugliest creature I've ever seen in my life."

"Aziel has never complained." Camalia turned to Aziel then, running her finger along the sharp line of his jaw.

The shadow wielder folded his arms over his chest, looking at her with a type of judgement that finally made her squirm.

"Are you sure?" Trio asked. "Because he told me that it takes everything in him not to vomit right in your face.

He says it smells like hell—that your cunt reeks of brimstone and sulfur. "

The queen looked around the throne room at all of her patrons, at her loyal subjects, but all of them were silent.

Not even the guards dared to move a single inch in her defense.

"You are quite repulsive, yourself. The gall you have to believe that you could defeat me with your…

" Her index finger flicked to the shadows hissing wildly at Trio's shoulders. "Parlor tricks."

"Maybe not. But, I have been talking to a very powerful witch that told me how to reverse those runes you carved into us.

" There was a lilt to Trio's voice that made Aziel want to smile.

His friend sounded joyous—too joyous—as he slipped his own knife from his thigh.

With one swipe of his blade, Aziel felt the pain in his back ignite with the burn of a thousand stars.

His vision turned white, ears ringing, and stomach contracting sharply as the pain seized every muscle in his body.

He fell to his knees immediately, crying out with each wave of fire that pulsed through him.

He couldn't hear Trio's chanting, nor could he hear Camalia begging for the shadow wielder to stop.

She tried her best to fight against the shadows that were now like a wall between them, her fists bouncing off of them as she screamed.

"What the fuck was that?" Aziel snarled.

The moment Trio placed a handful of herbs onto Aziel's back and began packing them into the wounds, the latter let out a howl of pain that mimicked the cry of a banshee.

The herbs did nothing to help his pain, but Trio continued his chanting, eyes focused on the black substance that was oozing out of Aziel's spine.

"The Rune Witch told me what I needed to do to help you." Trio was breathless, casting a worried glance in Camalia's direction. "She said there is a chance that it might not last—that the magic used on you could return depending on how strong the spell is, so you need to make this quick."

Everything was loud. Every inch of him was paralyzed. He could do nothing, but let it hurt.

Even when silence did come, the hurt in Aziel's body still screamed just as loudly as before. But with each moment that passed, he could feel the muscles and tendons that'd been ripped open by Trio's knife start to knit themselves back together.

"What do you need me to do?" Trio asked, kneeling down just enough to hear Aziel's panted commands.

The God of Mortem looked between Camalia and the subjects that filled the throne room before his eyes flickered to the door. "Barricade every entrance. And stay out of the way," He started, a weak smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "Let me do what I do best."

Aziel didn't need to clarify.

Anyone who had seen Aziel work, knew what that meant. He was good at killing people, as The God of Mortem would be, but his favorite part of the job was torturing the people who deserved it. And, gods, these people deserved it.