“What else would you have me do, then? Would you rather me be in a camp somewhere, Aziel?”
“Yes.” He snapped. “Yes, I wouldlovefor you to be in a camp. I would love for you to be as far away from me as possible. Because, if you were, I wouldn’t have to look at you and be reminded of everything I have had to do—”
He turned away from her then, the force at which he moved causing her to suck in a sharp breath. She watched him as he thrust his hands into his hair, groaning as they moved to press against his eyes.Nymiria couldn’t understand what was happening, nor what he meant. All she knew was that what he’d said had sliced through what remained of her civility. She stomped towards him, shoving him into the wall with a solidthunk, her dagger poised at his chest.
“The next time you speak to me, I will not hesitate to drive this straight through your heart. Considering that you even have one.” She growled. “And if you think, for one second, that you knowanythingabout me or what I have had to do to survive this hell, you ought to rethink it. Because you clearly know nothing.”
That menacing gleam had returned to his eyes, along with the darkened sense of pride that usually accompanied it. “I don’t think you have the heart to kill me, Nymiria.”
Nymiria dug her blade deeper into his chest, piercing the fabric of his jacket. “Think again.”
“Does pretending that I am the villain make this easier for you, moonflower?”
Her eyes changed. Softening for a fraction of a minute, her lips parting to breathe in a shaky breath. “What did you just call me?”
Her hands were shaking.
It was a small detail, but a grandiose display of where her mind truly was. She did not want to kill him. Notyet. Not until she believed that he was someone worth killing. It was a small detail that proved there was hope for her, yet. Any of Dorid’s other men would have attempted to end the job the moment he stepped foot in Yaar. Not Nymiria. And it was not fear or trying to find the perfect moment to complete the task at hand, not really.
Nymiria didn’t want to killanyone. Not even him.
Aziel slipped out from underneath the point of her dagger then, taking a few steps away to put distance between them before he spoke again. “Good night, Nymiria.”
Chapter 7
Aziel traced over the design on the arm of the chair, his gloved finger dipping and swirling into the wooden grooves that made up the design of a phoenix. It was ironic, really, that his father decorated his palace with mystical things but would go to such great lengths to ensure that they were killed. They did better to remain as bedtime stories for children, never something to witness firsthand. Phoenixes had been killed off long ago, long before Dorid Yaarborough or his brooding bastards for sons came wailing into the world.
He released a sigh, lifting his eyes to watch as Dorid propped himself against the large oak desk in the study, his gaze homed in on Aziel. "You look deep in thought, boy. What have you to say about any of this?" Dorid demanded.
"About what?" Aziel hummed, letting his head rest lazily against a single finger. "The people going missing or the new sculpture of the sex goddess you placed in the foyer?"
Dorid's face turned red with anger. It was a talent, really—that one simple sentence could nearly put his father in an early grave. "Don't be smart with me. You know what I'm talking about. The Mystics are your jurisdiction, so I would like to know how it happened. Howtwo hundredof them vanished from the camps in one night."
To be fair, Aziel wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. But whatever magic Trio had worked… well, he did it well. "How would I know?" Aziel asked. "Youdemandedfor me to be here, babysitting mybrother—"
"You will address him by his title, Aziel." Dorid snarled, his hands curling against the wood of his desk with splintering pressure. "Do not forget your place. Whatever fun the two of you had, whatever relationship the two of you built on your mission, it ends now. It endshere. Do you understand? He is your future king."
"Yes, your highness." Aziel bowed his head apologetically, his stoic expression returning. "What I meant to say is that when I left my camp, I left with good and noble men in charge. Men that'd been working those camps for well over twenty years. It bewilders me just as much as it does you, that something like this would happen. I chose my guards carefully."
"Aye," Dorid seemed to deflate to some degree, his gaze moving slowly to the bookshelves that lined his walls. He pushed himself away from his desk and strode towards the shelf of crowns. He plucked one from the batch, the one that looked like silver plated branches of a tree. Aziel held his breath, watching the pad of his father's thumb skim over the branches. "Nymiria and Oran have become quite close." He hummed.
Aziel forced his teeth apart, feeling the ache in his jaw from having ground them so tightly. "Yes, it seems they have."
In the passingweekssince the night of Oran's engagement, he'd watched Nymiria become an ornament at Oran's side. In the early morning hours, he'd see them in the garden where his mother's bones rested. In the afternoon, he'd see Oran handing Nymiria some of the most delectable imported apples one could put in their mouth. He'd watch her, fists clenched, as she plopped the slices into her mouth. And the only thing he could think of when he watched them together was how she'd looked at him in the garden—the venom in her eyes when she'd snarled at him, the sadness he felt when she spoke those three simple words:"I am nothing."
"I don't want her near him. Oran's betrothed is growing increasingly jealous and Icannothave him falling in love with a fuckingMystic. No matter how much I love Nymiria, their relationship would be an abomination and would ruin anychance I have at securing relations with Shidosha. We need their ships." Dorid's voice broke Aziel from his thoughts, his brow furrowing as he watched Dorid place the crown back on the shelf. "I am having her rooms moved. She will be in the tower now. Away from Oran."
It was an excuse and Aziel knew it. Oran's bride couldn't have cared less about who or what her betrothed was doing with his free time. This was all just a way to put Nymiria closer to him—so that she might actually be able to finish what Dorid tasked her to do.
Aziel jolted to his feet, his hands clenching to fists. "Absolutely not. That tower ismine."
"Nothing in this palace isyours, Aziel. And you'd do well to remember it. So," Dorid huffed, plopping himself into the chair behind his desk. "I would suggest that you have your belongings removed from one of the apartments to make room for her." He plucked a quill from his golden cup, twirled it around his fingers as he smiled up at Aziel.
"First, you give her my mother'sgraveand now, you're pushing me out of my own space?" He scoffed. This wasn't going to end well. That tower housed very fragile information and one whiff of what Aziel was truly doing would ruin everything and all of this would have been for naught. He couldn't trust Nymiria. Not when she spent all hours of the day eye-fucking Oran and eating pretty little fruits from his and their father's palms. This couldn't happen. Notnow. Not when he was so close. "I'd rather die."
Dorid chuckled. "Then kill yourself."
Of course.
