Page 96 of The Heart of Nym (The Twisted Roots Duology #1)

Aziel was the first thing she saw when she walked into the throne room.

The second thing she saw was Dorid, his body laying in a crimson puddle of his own blood, his cock beside his limp and nearly lifeless form.

While she wanted nothing more than to finish the job and snatch his life from his worthless body, she felt it best to just let him suffer.

Even if he lived, his current state would be a constant reminder of the evil he unleashed upon the world, and the consequences that followed.

The third thing she saw was the slight glimmer of fear in Camalia's eyes when their gazes finally met.

"And what will you do if I touch him, darling?" Camalia laughed. "Kill me?"

Nymiria stared straight ahead, watching as the queen rose to her feet, leaving Aziel to her guards.

One guard raised a single hand, preparing to strike the crumpled body on the floor, but with a wave of rage, Nymiria released another vine.

And another. And another until all of the guards were left with gaping holes through the center of their chests, their hearts spurting blood mere feet away from their lifeless corpses.

It was enough of a distraction for Camalia to release her hold on Aziel.

Her magic fell away from him, a moan of discomfort sounding from his chest as he collapsed onto the marbled tile.

The queen eyed her guards, brows drawn together, before turning her gaze back to the young goddess.

“I expected something more from you. Why is it that the most powerful women I meet are terrified of their own greatness?” She sounded thoughtful, her index finger tapping against her chin as Nymiria took another step forward.

“You could have been something wonderful, Nymiria, but that pathetic little heart of yours just wouldn’t let you.

And that is your greatest weakness, my love—that you allowed everyone to convince you that you were what you showed them.

You showed them a pretty portrait of a woman who was nothing more than a hole to fill and a body to desecrate.

You showed them someone who was pitiful and undeserving of respect.

All of this, all of your pain, it is because of what you allowed. ”

Nymiria shook her head. A month ago, she would have believed it. She would have heard those words and they would have resonated with the hurt child that still lived inside of her, that still prayed to a dying god for deliverance. But it was never true. It was the furthest thing from the truth.

The anger had always been there, weeding its way into her core, over the course of her life.

It started with a mother that despised her, continued in the hands of the people who were supposed to protect her but betrayed her, and kept growing and growing as she lived her life at Dorid’s side.

She took his beatings. She took his demeaning comments and snide remarks, his backhanded compliments that made her want to rip off her skin.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t deserved. And she hadn’t allowed that treatment, she had survived it.

“You don’t think that I wanted to be something great?

” Nymiria angled her chin higher, drawing her shoulders back as she stared Camalia in the face.

Perhaps she was once too scared to protect herself.

But there wasn’t a single moment in all of these years locked in her torment that she hadn’t dreamed of revenge.

“ You don’t think that I wanted to be held to a higher standard or shown a single ounce of respect?

I wanted it. I ached for it. Every single time any of these bastards looked at me with an ounce of desire, repulsion, or disdain, I wanted to give them a reason to fear me.

I don’t want them lapping at my feet like dogs, I want them drowning in their own fucking blood. ”

The corner of Aziel’s mouth raised into a smirk, the darkened veins that spread across his skin seemed to pulse with excitement at the darkness of her words, the bone-chilling promise hidden between syllables.

Palming thick blood from his eyes, he lifted his sword with a pained grunt, using every ounce of strength he had to stagger to his feet.

When he saw Nymiria surrounded by vines that were outstretched and lashing through the air like a set of thorned wings, he released a laugh that was heard through the now-silent throne room.

He knew that it would be beautiful, but to see her in her true godly form, the sheer joy that filled him was hard to contain.

Camalia's eyes were like daggers as she backed herself back onto the dais, as if the height could protect her from the inevitable.

She knew she was going to die today. There was no way she could look between the two gods before her and think she could survive this—not when she'd been the one in control of their torment for over a decade.

Nymiria watched Aziel slowly drag himself across the floor, to the wall where Trio's unconscious body was propped. He began shaking his companion, urging him to get up. She lowered her gaze, chest aching when she realized his gloves were missing. Just one look at Aziel’s scarred hands, just remembering how they trembled when he first showed them to her…

No. All of her mercy was gone. She did not need the warm blanket of Aziel’s comfort to wash away her guilt, for there was none left.

She walked closer to the Queen, her footsteps echoing through the chamber like an ominous beat of a drum.

Camalia assessed her with narrowed eyes and while she did not show fear at all, the subjects of Yaar certainly did.

Nearly all of them were chanting prayers to the new gods—the false gods that the Yaarborough family had created to make everyone believe that their evil was not truly evil, that their crimes against other living things were actions to be admired, rather than consequential.

They prayed with all of their might, hands clasped together and tears streaking their faces. Even when the embodiment of Life stood before them, they saw her as a devil. As a demon to be feared. She was no demon, but they had a right to be scared.

“Your gods are dead.” Nymiria sneered, vines whipping through the air at the crowd. In the confines that Aziel had created, they could do nothing but scream and cry. “They sent me in their wake.”

Camalia grinned at her, even as Nymiria stepped onto the dais and was steadily approaching, that evil smile of hers did not falter. It was merely as if she were watching some grand performance, like this was all part of a show she’d orchestrated all on her own.

Nymiria did not want to give her the satisfaction. She understood what that smile meant, that Camalia believed herself to be untouchable. That Nymiria did not have the heart to drive her dagger through the queen’s chest and end her life right on that precious little throne of hers.

And for the first time since Nymiria had been taken captive by Yaar, that throne looked so damn small.

Nymiria held her dagger in her hand, her fingers laying against the braided leather upon the hilt perfectly, as she approached the unflinching woman in front of her.

She was only a few paces away now, calculating her angle.

Still, Camalia did not move. She did not stop smiling.

And when Nymiria finally approached her with decades of rage pulsing through the tips of her fingers, Camalia’s skin began to bubble up.

Like festering sores, the flesh began to open.

It split apart, rippling in sickening currents to reveal the face of the creature underneath.

Nymiria expected evil. She expected a horned beast to appear in front of her once the shift began, but the thing she saw in front of her was not a beast at all.

It was worse.

The scent of patchouli filled her senses, her mind transported back to a room in a palace that no longer existed, to a time when she was just a girl who loved to watch her mother ready herself for the day, lathering her skin in scented oils.

Blond hair.

Blue eyes.

Golden skin that glowed in the sunset.

The creature before her was certainly evil, but it was also…

“You’d really kill your own mother?” Inasha frowned, tilting her head to the side as her eyes fell to Nymiria’s dagger.

Adjacent to them, his sword still in his grip, Aziel’s posture straightened, eyes going wide as he looked between mother and daughter. The crying from the audience had silenced and now every eye in the room was wide with surprise, not a single whimper to be heard.

Nymiria’s pulse quickened, her skin instantly damp with perspiration. She couldn’t move. As much as she wanted to, her feet simply would not close the distance between them.

“Darling, I’ve told you a thousand times that staring is rude. The least you could do, after all these years, is greet me properly.”

Nymiria shook her head, tears welling up in her eyes as she stared down at her mother. “I… I don’t understand.” She whispered weakly.

Inasha rolled her eyes and released a heavy sigh into the air.

“What isn’t there to understand? I vanished ten years ago, I am here on the most powerful throne in the world today—I’m sure you’re smart enough to piece the puzzle together.

” When Nymiria didn’t say anything, her mother lifted herself to her feet and took a step forward.

“I have been alive a very long time, Nymiria. Good gods, I was seven hundred years old when I gave birth to you—I have had years to hone my abilities and dabble in other practices. One of them being Mimicry, the other being witchcraft. And, darling, I became the most powerful witch there is.”