"Please, I need water." She was gripping at her throat now, looking as if she was swallowing shards of glass.
His eyes roved over her body, taking in the droplets of sweat that were running down her chest and gathering at the hem of her silk dress. His eyes, then, dropped to the place on her thigh that tugged at the fabric in the shape of a weapon. He shot forward, neverminding her desperate panting and whining and spread her legs. "Stop—" Her pleas were weak, her heart hammering so hard in her chest that it genuinely felt as if it would burst through her ribs at any moment. It didn't evenregister in her mind that his fingers were now tugging at the strap of her holster. The holster that held the dagger meant to kill him. "Please,stop—"
"I'm trying tohelp you." Aziel snarled, finally ripping the dagger free. "They'll kill you if they find this, damn it."
"Not… for…him." She managed.
His eyes went wide, his hands immediately flying up to cup her face in his hands. He could probably shove his finger down her throat to get her to vomit whatever she'd ingested, but by now it would be far too late…
Foam began spurting from her mouth as she coughed, fingers still clawing at her throat and leaving horrible red stripes in their wake. Aziel swore under his breath, glancing around the alcove and preparing to lift her off of the bench when the curtains were ripped open once again. Aziel fell away from her and rose to his feet immediately to look at Oran's enraged expression. "What the fuck are you doing?" Oran demanded, fingers curling around the lapels of Aziel's jacket.
The assassin let out something akin to a growl, his blood boiling and he shoved the sheathed dagger into Oran's chest. "She's been poisoned, you idiot." He snarled.
Nymiria shook her head, attempting to lift herself to her feet, but the ground seemed to have vanished from where she remembered it once being. She landed at Oran and Aziel's feet, fingers curling around the ankle of a leather boot. "Please." She begged. "Help me."
The words that were whispered into her ear were muffled, sounding more like the humming of a mosquito rather than coherent phrases. Her vision was hazed, darkening at the edges as she attempted to stand once again. Still, she collapsed. But before she could hit the ground, she was being hoisted up and cradled against a hard chest. Nymiria nuzzled into the scent of cherry blossoms—gripping onto anything that could help the world stop spinning, but it was no use.
She didn't like this. Not at all. And if shenevertried that damn drug again in her life, it would be too soon.
Soon enough, she was surrounded by softness, her lips being pried open by rough hands. Something was pored down her throat that had her gagging, the liquid rising to that place inside of her where her throat and nostrils were connected.
Drowning.
Nymiria didn't know how to swim. She'd never been taught how to do it, she couldn't—
"She'll be alright." Someone whispered. "You acted quickly enough, she'll be alright."
There was a grunt in the distance. She turned her face towards the familiar sound, extending her hand to reach for it, but only found the soft lumps of pillows. "Keep an eye on her. I'll be back in an hour to check on her. Is there water you can give her?"
"Yes. Of course there is water in here. What kind of servant would I be if I didn't have her some fresh water to drink?"
"Desiree, this is hardly a time for your sarcasm."
Warm hands smoothed hair away from Nymiria's face. She wished she could have reacted, she wished that she could give her thanks to whoever her savior was. But she couldn't move. She could barely even think clearly. "You're alright." Desi sighed. "You'll feel better the moment the sun starts coming up."
Chapter 5
Her gown clung to her damp skin as she thrashed in her sheets. The dizzying feeling of her horror was overwhelming—so overwhelming that she couldfeelthe burn of the ropes tied around her wrists and ankles. She could feel the pelting of rocks, the stinging snap of the iron-tipped whip against her back. Nymiria was asleep, whimpering and fighting the invisible monsters of her past. She kicked her legs, clawed at the air in front of her, and gasped when she swore that she could feel the burn of white-hot iron pressing into her stomach. She could feel phantom hands spreading her thighs, slipping between them anddemandingeverything.
The quick flash of blue eyes in front of her pulled her from her nightmares, sending her spiraling back into reality with a loud, greedy gasp of air.
When she rose from her bed, her legs trembled like that of a newborn calf trying to hold up its weight. Gripping the post on the foot of her bed, she managed to navigate towards the pitcher of water left on the vanity across the room. She downed glass after glass to ease the scratchiness in her throat, but to no avail. If anyone had heard her screams, no one cared to check and see if she was alright. They'd left her alone. Either that or she hadn't screamed at all and the sounds she'd heard were compositions of her own mind.
She knew that sleep would not find her again. Her nightmares would linger, would haunt her every time she closed her eyes. What Oran had given her at his party was starting to wear off. Even with the faint sway of the room, she stillhad more groundings than she did before—was more coherent and aware of the direction the world was turning.
Stumbling over the books at the foot of her bed, she slipped on her robe. It wasn't the best idea for her to leave her room at such an early hour in the morning, but she needed air. She needed the grass under her feet and the smell of life in her nose. Nymiria needed something more than this dark and twisted place—she needed a semblance of home.
Each corridor was vacant on the way out of the palace. The doors to the garden were left open, a breeze sweeping through the lowest level—air thick and humid with the threat of rain. She could smell the lightning already, feel the thunder in her bones. The world around her moved through her being as she breached the threshold that led her out into the carefully groomed wilderness. Clouds rolled through the early morning sky, heavy and thick with the water they were too sodden with to contain. But she didn't care. She took weak steps all the way to her precious garden and the moment she unlocked the gate, she tumbled into the bed of wildflowers. Her vision was hazy as she peered up at the thunderous sky, a flash of light blinding her momentarily. Her fingers flared through the stems of her wildflowers, taking purchase of them as the rain started to fall, drenching her almost immediately. Still, she did not tear her eyes away from the sky.
She let the thick droplets of water roll across her skin, reveling in the cold velvet caress of them. The storm continued. The winds blew and the thunder boomed across the vacant horizon. And when she finally turned her head to the side and saw white moonflowers blooming beside her, she didn't care that their paleness stood out among the yellow-tipped daisies. She ran her fingers over the white blossoms, a warmth spreading through her chest. She was close to him now. So close that she could almost feel him through the dirt. It was morbid, surely, but the desire to dig up the grave just beside her and nestle in the skeletal arms of the one who haunted her was stronger than ever.
She would die there. Let the earth do its job and melt her flesh to the bone, take away the pain and suffering she felt from these years of loneliness—these years of regret. Owen had been the only good thing left in this dark and cruel world and now he was just an unmarked grave. He was forgotten by most, but he'd never left her. Every moment they spent together, up until she buried his body in this very garden, followed her every day of her life.
She tried to remember him smiling at her, watching her dance and twirl through the willows along the banks of the river. She tried to remember the way his lips felt on her skin, how they ignited a passion in her, how they awoke parts of her soul that she never knew existed. "You told me not to cry over you." Her voice shook, her chest aching as she turned to look at the small river stone she'd placed there nearly three years before. "Can't I just haveonetear?" A tear fell from the corner of her eye and onto the sodden grass, her lips trembling as she wove her fingers through the green tresses. "I don't know where to go from here." She whispered.
Hours later, she was startled awake by a ray of sun hitting her eyes. The rain had stopped. Nymiria pulled herself up from the bed of flowers, rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands to help clear them. Upon opening them, she froze and blanched in horror at the sight of black boots in front of her. They were connected to long, lean legs and as her eyes roved higher, her heart nearly stopped when she saw the face of Aziel Haze looking back at her.
And he didnotlook happy.
