Aziel took a steadying breath and forced a grim smile onto his face. While this was the last thing he wanted to do, it seemed he had no choice. He'd certainly have to send a message to Trio to come…retrievea few things. But if Dorid Yaarborough wanted Nymiria closer to him, then so be it.
He would be close to her—so close, in fact, that the king would lose his little pet. He could be seductive, he supposed. It wouldn't kill him.
After Aziel was dismissed from the meeting, he took to making his rounds. Scouring over every inch of the palace grounds was one of his least favorite duties when he was younger, but now…especiallynow, it gave him the perfect opportunity to watch over his target. Learn her schedule, learn her routines. He could find something to bond over and swoop in and be just as devilishly charming as Thorn told him to be.
Stealing a princess's heart was no easy task.
He approached her garden with a slow stride, a smirk toying at the corner of his lips when he saw her small frame hunched over the plaque that bore his mother's name. The wildflowers she'd planted had all wilted. Every single one of them with browning flowers, their stems shriveled and no longer the colorful, brilliant things that they were a couple of days prior.
She worked furiously, grunting and swiping at her forehead to clear the sweat as she ripped the dead flowers out of the earth. Under the rot, green vines adorned with closed buds were pulsing with life. Nymiria was cursing to herself, shaking her head back and forth when each new vine sprang free from their rotted prisons. Aziel stepped into the garden, his brow furrowed as she tossed a clump of dead flowers to the ground and let her head fall into her hands.
Genuine confusion took over him as he walked closer to her, his eyes scanning the bed of moonflowers. "What happened?" He asked.
Nymiria's head snapped up in his direction, her eyes narrowed—sharp like the tip of a dagger. "Go away." She snarled. Aziel did not move. He simply leaned down and plucked a closed bud from the vine. His confusion did not go away, but mingled with amazement as he watched a new bud spring up in its place.
He smiled.
"You did this, didn't you?" Nymiria was now within inches of him, her hands braced upon her hips. "You're the one that's doing this… thismagic."
Aziel flicked the bud out of his hand like one would a cigarette, his smile slipping. "I'd watch what you say around here, Nymiria. Accusing someone of tinkering with magic could get somebody killed."
She took another step closer to him. Filling the space that separated them was now a small garden shovel, the sharp point of it pressed directly over his heart. "And what makes you think that I care if you live or die, Aziel Haze? All you have done since our first meeting isgrowlat me, glare at me, question my freedom, andlookat me with that…look."
"What look?" He hummed. Her anger amused him, made something inside of him that was darkened and dull feel like it was flickering to life again. "What if this is just my face?"
Nymiria scoffed, folding her arms over her chest. "Well, then, I hate your face."
"I don't see why you're angry with me. I should be angry with you—you punchedmein the throat for no good reason. And you tried to stab me." She was getting angrier. He could tell by the pale pink flush along the base of her throat. And as much as he could not stand what she represented and who she had become, he had to admit that she still looked absolutely beautiful in pink. It suited her. "I also don't shove myself into your business in sketchy alleyways."
"I don'tdobusiness in sketchy alleyways." Each word was spoken through gritted teeth, her arms folding over her chest. "You may believe that what you were doing was private, but I could smell your death all the way from Dieve's stall." Aziel stilled, his heart giving a solidthudat her words. All of the air escaped from his lungs, and he couldfeelthe blood draining from his face.
"You could smell my death?" This changed things. If she could sense his Grace, it meant that there was more power inside of her than mere glamours.
It meant that Nymiria wasn't just a Mystic, nor fae. It meant that everything written inside of his mother's journals were true. Nymiria wasn't just the princess he saved all those years ago—not just a courtesan. She was the last Godling of Greia.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" She snapped, striding closer to him. Despite the intent to stand his ground, he took a step back, lips parting. "What is it? Is there something in my hair?" The moment she started combing her fingers through the golden locks around her shoulders, her glamour slipped away,revealing the creature that lurked underneath false skin. Her facial features were the same, still unnaturally beautiful, but in her raw and natural form…
He didn't know how he couldn't have seen it before. The signs were all there—the glow of her skin, the gleam of the universe trapped within her eyes.
Aziel let out a low growl, his heart thrumming so quickly and loudly that he could hardly hear what she was saying. Or yelling. "You don't belong here." He whispered.
Nymiria was still talking, still thrashing her hands around in a fit of rage until she turned and grabbed a handful of her dead flowers and shoved them into his chest. "Just admit that you did this.Admit it. You don't like me touching your mother's grave, I understandthat. But why would you kill these flowers? I made this place beautiful—Icaredfor it! Sowhydo you hate me?" She shoved at his shoulders.
Aziel didn't have the strength to stiffen his body or lock in his footing. He stumbled back, bracing himself against the iron gate. He shook his head again, letting the dead flowers he didn't realize he was still holding fall to his feet. "You don't belong here." He repeated.
"What?" She snapped.
His eyes flickered up to hers, anger swelling low in his stomach as he looked her over. "You. Don't. Belong. Here."
Nymiria opened her mouth to speak, but closed it again almost immediately and folded her arms over her chest. Just like a child clutching at a security blanket, Nymiria glamoured herself again, her eyes turning down at the corners. He'd definitely struck a nerve, found the tenderest wound she had and prodded it. And though she turned from him as quickly as she possibly could, he could still see the swell of tears in her eyes, the pain that etched itself across her face.
Aziel turned away from her, leaving her crumpled form in the garden as he charged for the palace. The world seemed to move too slow, his feet too heavy, his palms sweating as he climbed the stairs. Barreling past the shadows and the figure that lurked inside of them, he ascended up to the west wing tower, his handsshaking by the time he finally reached his rooms. Trio watched from the corner, silent and observant as Aziel began digging through the trunk of his mother's belongings. When he pulled the leather-bound book from underneath the other meaningless trinkets, it tumbled from his fingers. Trio was at his side immediately, catching the book before it hit the ground.
"What's going on?" Trio asked.
Blue eyes flickered up to meet black, Trio's shadows looming over them, creating a barrier between them and the outside world. Aziel only stared at his friend, leather pressing into leather as he squeezed the spine of the journal. "Nymiria is not just a princess. She's not just Seelie. She's theAnam."
Trio's hand fell away from the journal, tightening into a fist mid-air before he raised to full height once again. "She is Life?"
