She’d seen what he could do to people. Even if what he’d done to Seamus was but a glimmer of what he was truly capable of, there was something marvelous and captivating in the way he spilled blood.Perhaps she was truly deranged and desensitized to death, but him spilling the blood of a sick man at her feet felt like an offering of sorts.
Good gods, she was losing her mind.
“Any idea on how I can find him?”
Oran shook his head. “Not a clue.”
“Your alliance is serving to be quite useless in times like these. Are you aware of that?” She brushed past him, hiking the skirts of her dress and robe as she stepped out onto the palace lawn.
“Perhaps I’d be able to understand what you meant if I had not lied for you, protected you, and defended you against my parents.” He quickened his pace until he fell into step alongside her, flicking a strand of dark wild curls out of his face. “This may seem to be a peculiar question to ask at the moment, but do you ever miss the way things were before?”
Nymiria snorted, keeping her eyes fixed on her path and doing her best to school her features. How could he be so casual when now was theperfecttime to askanyother question than that? “Before what? Before I fell in love with your stupid brother?”
As soon as the words left her lips, both of them paused. It was as if the world had stopped turning entirely. Her breath caught in her lungs and her stomach feltas if she were peering over a cliff looking at a drop that could surely end her life. Or like looking up at a really tall ceiling.
“You’re in love with my brother?” Oran muttered, unable to stop his grin from consuming his whole face.
Nymiria’s eyes snapped to his in a heated glare, teeth grinding. “It appears so.” She hissed.
After Oran left her to tend to his own duties, Nymiria busied herself by climbing stairwells and searching in the servants quarters for Desi, but unfortunately came up empty handed. There was hardly anyone in the palace, seeing that it was temple day, but Desi did not go to temple. So her absence was quite peculiar.
She found herself wandering the hall of their tower, passing by Aziel’s closed door more times than she would like to admit. Breaking into his rooms tended to never really end in her favor. Though she was curious about exploring all of the other oddities he had hidden there, she didn’t dare try to push her luck.
Perhaps that was a lie. She had tried her luck and hoped the door was unlocked, even jiggled the handle like a madwoman, until she eventually gave up and decided to make herself presentable for the day.But no matter how many times she did her face or changed her dress, there was nothing that seemed to ease her muddled mind.
She tried to familiarize herself with this version of her being. The Nymiria without constrictive glamours. The Nymiria without expensive dresses and jewels covering her from head to toe.She didn’t want to be that person anymore.It was easier to look at herself in the mirror, in all of the finery, when she wore glamours. She could pretend that it was notNymiriashe was looking at, but rather a character she was portraying.
No matter how hard she tried to convince herself that this life was meant for her, there was always a deep and wild aching in her heart that said otherwise. She did not dream of palaces and parties filled with lust, secret hatred, and betrayal. Though the jewelry was beautiful when it would hang from her neck, she could not shake the feeling that it felt more like a noose than a necklace. Bangles felt like shackles on her wrists, and the earrings dangled so heavily that her head was always hung in shame.
Never again.
It was nother.
She had diluted herself to be digestible to the masses, dulling herself and what made her spectacular to be appetizing to those who thrived off of lackluster things.
They didn’t want to see her fingernails dirtied after a day spent tending to her garden. They did not want to see her sopping wet, crawling from a river with fish in her hands. They didn’t want to see vines twisting and bending at her will, flowers blooming with the slightest wave of her hand.
There was a time she believed that being in Yaar was where she was meant to be; that her transgressions and her failures placed her with the other horrid, evil beings that crawled the earth.
Even if her mistakes haunted her, it’d been a long time since she felt that way.Years.
She wished that she’d known that there were other options for her sooner than this moment.
With a sigh, she pulled the pins from her hair, letting the colorless waves fall, swirling around her waist. And even though all women would have been decorating their faces this evening, she still took her washcloth and began wiping the pink tint from her lips and cheeks.
She stared at her nude reflection, idly rubbing her finger over one of the moonflowers on her arm. She could feel the tingle of power spreading over her skin, tracing every curve and swirl of those vines. She was usually met with numbnessin the place where her Grace resided, now she felt it growing—spreading through her being in the way that roots dug through the earth to take hold.
Lifting herself from the vanity bench, Nymiria turned towards her wardrobe.There was a simple cotton gown that hung amongst her leisure clothes. She pulled it from her belongings, slipped it over her head to let it fall around her ankles. When she looked in the mirror, she saw it—the briefest glimpse of the person she’d been before her whole life was turned on its head. She saw the woman she could become. Pointed ears, pointed teeth, the flowers marking her too-pale flesh, and all.
Her hands smoothed over the pale pink fabric, her eyes making the same path. It was odd not wearing such heavy gowns or flimsy silk.Dorid would surely throw a fit if he saw her dressed this way. Cotton wasnotacceptable for anyone to wear inside of the palace. He wanted everything shimmering or embroidered to perfection. He wanted art.
What made art so special was thatart, itself, was determined by the audience.It was found in the eye of the beholder. Some would not believe that her pale skin, shimmering moonflowers, sharp features, and wild blue eyes were beautiful.
But she knew someone who did.
The courtyard had been decorated with streamers and lanterns. Though the backdrop was bleak and dreary, one would think that they’d stepped into The Beyond with the amount of color Oran had decorated with.
She’d never taken him to be much of a party planner, but he’d done a spectacular job with the flower arrangements.
