"You might be wondering why I chose Yaar. Our enemy."
Nymiria didn't really care. Thewhy'sandhow'sweren't nearly as important as Inasha believed them to be. But, as always, this bitch loved to hear herself talk. And the more she spoke, the more distracted she became—the less calculated she would be. So Nymiria let her talk. She would let her tell her story, admire herself, and relish in her greatness so long as it meant that all of this ended with her dead.
Nymiria wasn't scared of killing her mother. She wasn't even scared of the guilt that would probably never come. All she could think of, all she saw, was Aziel still standing off to the side. Every thought that plagued her mind, that fueled her anger, was knowing what her mother had done. In knowing that, Nymiria could not let that woman leave that room alive.
"I figured that, eventually, this sack of shit would die." Inasha nudged Dorid's bloody body with her foot, but the man hadn't moved in quite some time. It was a wonder he was still breathing with how much blood he'd lost. "I would come into power, and once Yaar was under my control, I would reunite the human realm with the Mystic realms, blast a hole through The Divide, and kill anyone who objected to the unity. But," she rolled her eyes. "I discovered that Dorid Yaarborough was more fae than I once believed. Turns out, the bastard could have lived to be the age that I am now. And, I will be completely honest, I didn't have thetimeto wait for him to die. I needed him gone immediately. Which was why I came to you." She pointed at Nymiria with a sharpened nail, the tip just as black as her soul. "When Dorid took me as his new wife, he forced me to makean Unbreakable Vow. Meaning that if I tried to personally kill him with my own hand, my life would end as well. What a blessing it was that you showed up here. Originally, I hoped that you would go on to lead the kingdom, but having you here was also acceptable. I realized that I could use you, have these bastards make you hate them so that killing them wouldn't be too difficult for you and your precious little heart."
"Aziel, here, believed that he could keep you from harm by offering himself to me. But the amendments to our deal were made so complex that there was no way you would have ever been saved from the cruelty of this place. I needed you where I wanted you, but youstillsomehow seemed to disappoint me. As always. Too pure, too loving. Not enough fight in you to complete what needs to be done and even when you did, you'd sulk about it for days on end." She observed her from across the way, the way one would observe a bug or diseased rodent. "How you came from me, I will never truly understand. You would rather spend your life submitting to that cockless, pathetic lump of lard than to have a crown."
Nymiria drew in a ragged breath. She could feel the heat rising in her veins, a dangerous heat that was all-consuming, making the inside of her stomach twist. "I would have preferred having a mother who hadn't tainted the entire Seelie court with her dark magic. I would havepreferredto have a good and normal life."
"You were never destined for a normal life Nymiria—look at you. You are far from normal. You are agoddess."
"You never treated me like one."
"And allow you to become an entitled brat? I may not be an affectionate mother, but I can at least say that I raised someone with a decent amount of modesty and decorum. Besides, I didn't expect for either of you to be alive this long. I hoped that both of you would be dead by now and I would have all of your power to myself." The moment Inasha took a step near Aziel, Nymiria felt every hair on her arms stand on end. Aziel was quick to react, raising his blade fast enough to slice clean through the finger pointed in his direction.
Inasha let out a piercing howl of pain, clutching the wounded hand to her chest, eyes wild as she watched her black blood spill down her skin.
Believing that the pain of her mother losing a finger could be distraction enough, Nymiria moved as quickly as she could, only to be blown away from the dais with a force that stole the breath from her lungs. She landed on her side, hissing at the impact. When she lifted her eyes, Nymiria let out a cry of rage, her heart hammering in her chest with fear, anger, turmoil, and every emotion in between as her gaze landed upon Aziel.
His sword was lodged in his chest, his hands already bloodied and his teeth clenched as he worked to loosen the blade from his sternum. Nymiria clambered to her feet, her side throbbing.
“Why are you angry, love? Because I lied to you? Abandoned you?” Inasha laughed, but the moment Nymiria prepared to launch herself forward, a blast of power from the witch sent her surging backwards into the wall behind her. Pain bloomed through Nymiria’s skull, her lungs burning as she tried to draw in air. Hands and knees planted on the ground, she looked up to her mother again. “I’m not going to make this easy for you. You have had an easy enough life as it is.”
Nymiria let out a weak laugh, shaking her head in disbelief. “Easy? You think that all I had to endure waseasy?”
“My parents made me undergo multiple tests of strength to ensure that I was fit enough to be a queen, Nymiria. You faced but a fraction of what I had to endure, and look at me!”
“Yes,” she sneered. “Look at you. A wretched little thing with no soul.” Nymiria slowly rose to her feet again, finally able to draw in a complete breath without her muscles seizing. “Instead of looking at me with love and protecting me from the things that corrupted your soul, you chose to continue it—to pass that pain ontomeas if it was some sort of birthright. Because you never loved me at all. You only loved the power my existence promised you.”
None of this mattered. It would have made no difference if Nymiria had spoken or not, her words were falling upon deaf ears. Her mother was old andso rooted in her ways and her beliefs that nothing could change her. No threat, no consequence could make her feel remorse for all the pain she’d caused. She turned her head to look at Aziel again, at the bloodied sword he’d finally pulled free from his chest, and drew her shoulders back once again.
She charged for her mother again. Again and again. And though each of her attempts were met with painful blasts of power that threatened to cripple her, Nymiria continued to stand. Continued to fight.
If Philter had taught her anything useful during their sessions, it was that tiring someone out was the most effective way of getting them to let their guard down.
Nymiria was powerful, surely, but she had no clue on how to wield her grace, nor the defense magic she’d inherited from her fae lineage. She knew glamours. She knew how to grow flowers and sprout vines, but those energy forces were entirely unfamiliar.
She needed a window. A moment of weakness.
“This tantrum of yours isn’t just because ofme, is it?” Inasha asked, eyes slowly gliding to Aziel. He was still breathing raggedly, blood forming at the corner of his mouth. “Are you angry that I had him first, Nymiria?”
Fuck the moment of weakness, Nym. Kill hernow.
Owen.
She heard him.Felt him. Like a violent force that she’d never felt before. His hands moving under her arms, guiding her back to her feet. His eyes filled her vision and he nodded to her as if to tell her to keep going.The moment she saw him, she wanted to blurt out apologies, to beg for forgiveness for ending his life when he had so much left to offer the world. She’d snuffed his light too soon. All because she wasafraid.
You will not fail yourself again.He assured her.You’re stronger now.
"Now, moonflower." Aziel amended. "Do it now."
The moment Aziel clumsily rose to his feet and made his death crawl across the throne room floor once again, Nymiria looked at her mother. Trio was pushinghimself to his feet, his face pale and twisted with pain, clutching at his side as if something was broken there.
Aziel looked as if he wanted to be the one to do it. His eyes filled with malice and his jaw clenched tight as he looked at the Witch Queen, Nymiria knew he would have preferred to be the one to end her life. He had probably waited for this moment for an entire decade. But he was still weak, still holding onto the crowd and keeping them locked in place with what little strength he had. He was healing, his wounds closing more and more by the second, but the internal damage was also severe. He was in pain.
Emotionally. Physically.
