Page 95 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

"I don't need one?" She grumbled to herself, brows drawing together at the center. "He's spent too long in the dark. He's lost his mind."

There was a clatter of something heavy on the other side of the door. "Nymiria, it's a puzzle lock. I can talk you through the sequence. Do you have anything sharp?"

She glanced down at her dagger. "Yes."

"Good. Now, each square has a small hole in the center that will help guide them." He began. "The first square you will move is the third square."

She slowly lowered herself to the ground, examining the tiles he was speaking of before she set to work.

With her ear still to the door, she listened to him as he talked her through each move.

Finally, when the last tile clicked into place, the seal on the door opened.

Oran grabbed her arm, lifting her off of the ground as he made his escape.

His dark blue eyes were wild with fury, his breathing heavy as he looked around the corridor. "Have you seen my father?"

Nymiria's nose wrinkled. "No. I haven't seen him since he tried to rape me in your brother's room.

" Oran glanced at her, but was quick to do a double take before his body deflated.

"I'm alright. Don't worry. It's not me your father needs to worry about, anyway.

" She sighed. "You're welcome, by the way. "

"For what?"

"For letting you out of the vault?" She grumbled, shouldering past him and heading towards the stairs.

She could hear him following along behind her, the heaviness of his footsteps bouncing off of the domed walls. "Thank you," he rasped. "I don't know how long I've been down here. I… my mother was in there."

"Your mother?"

Oran nodded, dragging his hands down his face as they reached the top step.

"Nymiria, I wasn't lying when I told you that there was something dark here.

I've felt it for years now. Every time I came home to visit my parents, it felt like there was a darkness so thick and suffocating surrounding this place and—" His voice cracked.

Nymiria turned to him and upon seeing his chin quivering, she felt her stomach sink with dread.

"They killed my mother. I don't know who the Mimic is, but they killed her and they are parading around in my mother's skin. "

"Where is your brother?" Nymiria asked. "We have to tell him—"

"I already did. Two days ago." Oran shook his head, his hand curling around something that Nymiria could not see. "I don't know where he is. But, I am telling you now, I have a very strong sense that he may be in danger."

Nymiria felt it, too. Even with this growing sense of power inside of her, she was never quite able to cease that sinking feeling.

The silence in the palace, the overwhelming sense of dread that settled in her chest, it wasn't a good sign.

She was certain that it had nothing to do with the war her father and Aziel were planning.

There was no proof of battle that could be heard anywhere. This was something else.

Nymiria grabbed Oran's arm and led him down the hall, tugging him towards the nearest exit.

"Listen to me,” she said urgently. "I sent Desi and Phyona to gather other Mystics and take them into The Beyond for safety.

Find them, and tell them that I sent you after them to protect them.

Tell them what you know about Aziel, let them hear the truth. "

"I can't—"

"You have to." She snapped. "If your father is heartless enough to order me to kill your brother, what makes you think he won't come after you?

" Oran blinked at her, eyes narrowing as her words registered with him.

Nymiria groaned in frustration, quickly glancing around before shoving him out the door and onto one of the verandas.

"I'm serious, Oran, you need to leave. Find the others and get as far away from here as possible. "

The prince glanced at the tree line, at the shadows darting through the greenery. He seemed uncertain at first, but when he saw the serious look on Nymiria's face, he gave her a small nod before breaking into a sprint and vanishing into the shroud.

Aziel finally had enough of her nonsensical jabbering.

She’d droned incessantly for half an hour about her greatness, throwing insults at him, trying her best to get under his skin.

He’d finally had enough. His roots tightened around Camalia’s neck until her skin turned blue.

Her hands flew up to her neck, nails clawing at them in an attempt to rip them off.

Just when she was close to giving up and relenting to death, Aziel loosened his roots, smiling as she sucked in rasped, greedy breaths.

“It’s not fun, is it?” He asked. “Having no control over what happens to your body?”

Camalia sent him a sharpened glare, trying desperately to lift herself off of the throne to get to him.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” Just as he was preparing to send another wave of his death in her direction, she slipped from between the rotting roots, launching herself to her feet in front of him.

Aziel reacted quickly, drawing his knife and aiming it directly at her heart.

The moment the point punctured her skin, his hand went still.

His whole body went still. Fear consumed him almost immediately.

Though it was not stronger than his hatred for her, it was just the feeling of not being able to use his limbs that made him look down at her with wide, pathetic eyes.

What a coward she was. She’d been brave enough to commit her crimes, but never quite prepared for what would come when she had to face them. Having to use all of her strength to keep him locked in place, Camalia looked at him with a false confidence that only an impostor carried.

He did his best to fight against her power, to at least keep his roots secured around those in the room.

By the door, Trio sat in a slumped position, surely feeling the humiliation of his defeat.

Aziel often prided himself in his reflexes, but perhaps he’d been too confident.

He underestimated Camalia’s abilities, the strength her magic held.

He was locked in place, muscles straining against her invisible confines, both of them growling in frustration as one power attempted to take over the other.

It wasn’t just her magic that controlled him, but the ghastly images of how she’d used it against him in the past that made him weak.

He tried to shove them from his mind, shake them from his memory.

He tried replacing that empty feeling with anger, but whatever she was doing was working far too well.

Guards filtered in from behind the thick, red velvet curtain that hung behind the dais, each of them taking their turns to stab and slice at Aziel’s flesh. Even in his godly form, the wounds ached, weakening him just enough for her magic to ensnare him completely.

His roots released on the far end of the room, leaving his captors gasping for the air that was once restricted.

“Oh, fuck you!” Aziel growled, watching as force after force of blades carved him up. One blade stabbed inches away from his heart, sending a shock-wave of pain rattling through his chest, stealing the air from his lungs.

He’d been foolish. Though she couldn’t kill him, she could torture. She could maim. She could keep him here, depleting his defenses, until he relented.

“I warned you, years ago, that you would regret defying me. But you insisted upon it. Over and over again. You looked at her. You touched her. And now, after all of this, you deny me of her?” Camalia bellowed. “She is mine.”

Still bandaged and swollen from the last time Aziel got his hands on him, the guard that insisted upon calling Nymiria names drew his knife. He made sure to make a show of it, to twist the blade around in the air with nimble fingers, before bringing the point down to Aziel’s face.

He made slow work of it, dragging the blade from Aziel’s hairline to the sharp curve of his jaw. “Not so pretty now, are you?” The guard laughed.

Aziel let out a chuckle of his own. “I’ve come to learn that people are more tolerant of scars than they are of an ugly face.” He stated blandly. “There’s no hope for you, friend.”

The guard cried out, driving the knife into Aziel’s neck.

Blood was spilling over his shoulders, soaking his clothing until it felt as if it were plastering to his skin.

They continued their torture as Camalia watched from the dais.

Wound by wound, Aziel’s roots began to weaken more.

Thankfully, they still could not leave. Even with Trio subdued, his shadows held strong, keeping the doors sealed tight.

A painful wall of Camalia's power came over him, bending his body until he was on his hands and knees.

It was only then that she approached, moving languidly around the guards to peer down at him.

"In doing research about classes of power, I learned something, Aziel.

While gods may be some of the strongest creatures in the universe, they are only the smallest fraction stronger than the highest form of witch.

All I needed to do was find your weakness. And do you know what your weakness is?"

He'd never really pondered on it, but he could take a wild guess and assume it had something to do with why he felt like he wanted to rip his skin clean off his body. "Lack of autonomy?" He offered weakly.

Camalia smiled a terrifying grin that rippled and twitched across her face. "Lack of control, in general. Without your control, you are nothing. You use death as a weapon to get your way. You manipulate everything, bend things to work in your favor. You even tried it with Nymiria, didn't you?"

In the beginning, he had. He'd tried scheming and using his manipulation skills to control the outcome of their situation.

But he'd soon learned that Nymiria could read him like a damn book and there was no use in trying.

He also fell in love with her. And doing that to people he loved and cared for, who did not deserve it, went against his own moral code.

Control, sure, it was something he needed.

He'd spent too many days of his life under the control of other people to not have a desire for it.

"What are you without your title, Aziel?" When he didn't respond to her question, Camalia knelt in front of him, using her sharp nails to move his chin upwards, forcing him to face her. "You are just that same, sad boy with no control who wandered into my bed all those years ago."

The doors to the throne room burst apart with a deafening boom, splintered wood flying in every direction as Nymiria strode through the falling rubble. He knew it was her by her smell—that warm scent of wild flowers and sunsets, like wisteria and honeysuckle that grew along the cusps of the forest.

Bound and bent by horrible power, he had just enough strength in him to look up at her. She was blurry due to the sweat and blood dripping into his eyes, but he could faintly make out her silhouette. And even that was beautiful.

"Let. Him. Go." Nymiria snarled. Quicker than Camalia could react, The Goddess of Life sent one of her sharp-pointed vines in the queen's direction, knocking her hand away from Aziel's face.

She came to a halt in the center of the room, her powerful aura filling every corner, commanding every eye to fall on her. "You will not touch him."