"C'mon," Thorn took in the dark and thoughtful look on Aziel's face, waving him onward. "The kids have missed you."
A piano and violin were being played in a dark corner, the thick red curtains casting an ominous glow about the smoke-filled room. The stench of tobacco clung to each velvet surface, but did nothing to quell the overwhelming aroma of sex and alcohol.
Oran was not partaking in the nefarious deeds of his friends, he merely sat at a game table shuffling through a deck of cards as if he were searching for one in particular. He rolled his eyes at their boisterous laughter, shook his head at a friend who had his hand up one of his courtesan’s dresses. It was nothing out of the ordinary in a place like this.
Nothing in that room was abnormal save for his brother who, like him, was sitting at that table and trying to ignore the sins happening around them.
Either of them could have a pick of any woman in that room, but Aziel had suddenly taken a vow of celibacy and Oran… well, he was engaged. And as much as he detested the arrangement, he was a man of his word. One woman for the rest of his life.
Fiernan seemed as if she’d rather run for the hills than to be next to him. He’d heard talks of some prince overseas that she’d been in love with.
How unfortunate.
It’d been him and his hand for the last four years. He could survive an eternity without sex. Possibly.
Not realizing that he’d bent his cards back as tight as a bow string, the cards inevitably popped out of his grasp and sputtered into the air, raining down on the table and ground. He swore under his breath, closing his eyes for a moment before he turned and lowered himself to the ground to pick them up.
He was too distracted with cleaning to realize that Nymiria had walked into the room, but Aziel was already watching her—had already felt her coming.
Her presence was like an itch at the back of his throat, like a suppressed scream that pressed at his vocal cords.
She wore that same damned glamour, entirely oblivious to the greedy eyes that roamed over every inch of her barely-clothed form. From her golden coiffed hair to her pink silk gown, she was the very image of beauty.The plunging neckline on her gown did nothing to hide the perfect swell of her breasts, nor the perfect silver flower on the center of her chest. It was a burning reminder—a slap in the face, really. Far worse than any punch she could dispel upon him. His kindness was on display for the world to see, his sacrifices taken for granted.
Because when her eyes landed on him, they were filled with a fair mixture of fear and disgust. He returned the sentiments as well as he could, flicking the ashes of his cigarette onto the floor before stamping it out onto the table.
Dorid’s little pet. Killing in his name, bending to his every will… he had a hard time believing that that was all she was doing for him. Now that all hope was lost of her being the one conspiring to kill the king, his thoughts were wondering to much darker places.
She stared at him for a moment, neither of them moving until Oran rose back up from the ground. Nymiria bristled, wishing that she could look away from Aziel and give Oran her attention, but her head wouldn’t move.
“It’s a pleasure for you to join us this evening, Nymiria. Though, I must say that I’m surprised to see you here—our father hardly lets you out of his sight.” Aziel smirked.
Oran glanced between the two of them, his brow furrowing when he saw the sheer ire burning in both Nymiria and Aziel’s eyes. “Never mind that,” He started, waving her to the seat next to him–awayfrom his brother. “Come have a seat. We’ve been waiting for another player so that we can start the game.”
Nymiria looked around at the people in the room. “I can see why you haven’t had much luck finding another player." She slid into the seat nearest the prince, doing her best to ignore the feeling of Aziel’s gaze. Which wasn’t really a gaze at all, but aglare.Nymiria was beginning to wonder if that was just the way his face looked—if he’d been so menacing for so long that his face was just frozen in a permanent scowl.
“Is there a problem with me being here?” She bit out.
Aziel shook his head. “Not at all. I’ve been dying to see what you look like when youlie.”
She could sense the truth in his words. Fear prickled up her spine, her teeth chewing at the inside of her cheek before giving a small laugh to ease the tension. Oran was watching them. If he suspectedanything, all of her plans would be for naught. “I’m a horrible liar, so I don’t think that you will have much trouble discerning whether or not I am bluffing.”
Oran’s hands were busy dealing the cards, but his eyes were still flickering back and forth in between them. “I have a feeling that you’re bluffingright now, actually.” Aziel sounded proud of himself—like it’d only taken him this long to have figured her out.
She was bluffing. But Aziel didn’t need to know that. Instead, she just laughed her pretty little laugh and did her best to ignore him. When Aziel and Oran lifted their cards, Nymiria raised her own, glancing between the brothers. She had to seem as if she didn’t know how to play—that she hadn’t spent the better half of a year in every back alley pub gambling for coin.
With each bet raised, with each card placed, Nymiria swallowed her pride and played her part. She leaned to Oran, flashing him her cards to ask for help which, inevitably, led to the cards having to be shuffled and dealt out again. She did thisthree times in a row, keeping an eye on Aziel to see if his shoulders relaxed at all. They did not. And his eyes were just as painstakingly menacing as they were when they started. And both brothers, despite their very different personalities, were astonishingly patient with her.
By the fourth round, Nymiria slowly began to pretend to have an idea of the game. And when she looked down at her cards and saw a winning hand sitting prettily in her fingers, she frowned.
“No good?” Aziel asked.
Nymiria cocked her head to one side, brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”
He nodded towards her cards. “Your hand. Is it not to your satisfaction?”
She wanted to lash out at him, slam the cards down onto the table and shove his nose in them. “I’m not sure.” She sighed, turning to look at Oran with a hopeless expression, her hand extending to lightly stroke his bare forearm. “I’m so sorry. Both of you must find me to be the worst person to play this game with. Ipromise, you two continue to play, and I will eventually catch on.”
Oran smiled at her, reaching over to pat the top of her hand that was resting over her coins. “It’s no bother, really, we’ve had worse experiences.”
