His legs were aching by the time he reached the door to Camalia's rooms. Shadows unfurled in the corner of the hall and though he couldn't see Trio behind themass of darkness, he could still sense that his friend was there. Scowling at him, probably. Aziel merely shrugged and opened the door.
The symphony of thoughts that resounded through her mind made it hard for her to focus. She could not grasp one single phrase, nor could she fruitfully dissect what Aziel had told her. If Greia's heir was roaming around in Gaellagh, how could she possibly know who to look for? Was it a feeling? A sense? She wasn't sure what Aziel expected of her, but there was no possible way she'd be able to help him. It had been too long for her to know what Greia's presence truly felt like.
In her confusion, she wandered the grounds aimlessly for nearly two hours before eventually making her way back to her room. She looked in the mirror at her reflection, using her palms to smooth away the wild hairs that were floating around her face. Her eyes eventually traveled down to the flower on her chest, watching as it shimmered in the evening sun.
She turned to face the open armoire. The makeshift altar was one she'd made by gathering small relics from Dorid's office over the years. She'd smuggled them all back to her rooms—placing them with the candles that had just been lit that morning for her prayers. An urge to throw them all out, to burn them all was overwhelming.
She'd been faithful. She'd waited. And for there to not be a single sign of Greia's death, not a warning or a whisper, felt like a betrayal.
Perhaps you were not listening close enough.
Nymiria rolled her eyes, turning to look at the figure that loomed over her shoulder. "I listened."
Only for what you wanted to hear.
She didn't have time for his riddles. Usually, Owen's spirit was a guiding voice for her, but sometimes it was only a nuisance. "You can go away now." She huffed.
If you do not wish for me to be here, all you need to do is wish me away.
She didn't have time for that, either. Nor did she have the heart. Talking to him like he was still here, being able to apologize for all of the things she did to fail him only helped to ease some of the guilt she carried with her every day. The last three years since his death, that faint apparition and his voice were all she had to tether herself to who she once was and who she dreamed that she could be: someone lovable. Someone who once dreamed of a future.Family. A real home.
Nymiria shook her head, pressing her palms against her temples and drawing in deep breaths until she felt her heart rate begin to slow.
Shecouldhelp Aziel, but the truth was that she was terrified of where this path would lead her. She'd only ever known Greia to be her savior and she was scared that the new goddess would not deem her worthy enough to protect. She'd done far too many awful things.
"Where have you been?" Desi hissed. She was rushing into Nymiria's rooms with an armful of something red, embroidered with golden flowers.
Trying to hide the fact that she'd shed a single tear, Nymiria wiped her eyes and turned from where she sat at her vanity, her shoulders slumping when she realized it was another gown. A gift. A reminder. "I was hoping he'd forget." She grumbled.
"Well, he didn't." Desi tossed herself onto the bed, spreading out her arms and legs and groaning as she stretched. "I'll never forgive him for making you live in this tower. All thosefuckingstairs…" She shook her head. "Although I have been meaning to ask you what its like living close to him. Aziel, I mean."
There was nothing Nymiria could really say. She would hear him coming up the stairs at early hours in the morning or very late into the night, but they never once crossed paths with one another. Until their argument in the forest, she hadn't seen him at all and she hadn't really seen him since then, either. Not even while he was on patrol. It had been three days since then and she was still just as confused about what she felt with him as she was then. And even though itshouldn't have bothered her at all, she worried about where he was—if he'd gotten caught smuggling refugees or if he was chained up somewhere.
He can't be killed. The voice whispered.
"He's still just as broody and menacing as the day I first met him." Nymiria shrugged, ignoring the echo of the whisper in her ears. "But there isn't much to tell about living across from him. I don't see him."
Desi sat up from her sprawled position, giving Nymiria a smile. "Is he always alone?" She asked.
Nymiria frowned. "Yes. And even if hewasn't, it would still be none of my business. I've learned my lesson about barging into rooms without knocking first."
"I highly doubt that. Lora told me you barged into the servants quarters just this morning. Were you looking for someone?"
She debated on telling her that she had been looking for Phyona again. Desi wasn't the type to go around talking about Nymiria's personal matters, but she sincerely feared what bringing Phyona into this would mean for the girl. And it wasn't that she wanted Phyona to help her kill Aziel, nor did she want her helping Aziel's cause. She just had more questions. Specifically about what Aziel was doing. She couldn't fight the nagging thought that this was all much bigger than him simply sneaking Mystics out of their camps.
Nymiria looked up at Desi, who was still waiting expectantly for her reply. Though she didn't usually like talking about her side job with the king, Desi already knew more than most. "He ordered me to kill him." She whispered. "Dorid wants me to kill Aziel." The silence that stretched between them was unbearable. Desi almost always had something to say and to see her look so pale and riddled with fear unsettled Nymiria to her core. "Please say something." She tried to sound light-hearted, but the words came out quiet and more like a plea than anything.
Desi only shook her head. "You aren't going to actually do it, are you?"
Three days ago, she was going to—she had every intention of dispatching him. But their time in that forest made it seem like killing him was impossible. "I don't know." She gave a half-shrug, lifting herself off of the vanity bench and approaching the bed where her gown was laid out for her. She ran her fingers over the intricately embroidered flowers, shivering when they trailed over the high neckline. "I was having a hard time getting to know him like the king asked. I decided to go to the servants for some information about him, but I ended up running into Phyona—"
"Nym…" Her nickname was a small warning, a plea for her to not go that route again. It'd been three years, but the first two were the hardest years of Nymiria's life. Everyone suffered during that time.Desisuffered, having been one of the main ones who tried desperately to nurse Nymiria back to health. She already knew what the look on Desi's face meant and she had every right to feel concern where anything related to Owen was involved.
"I'm not getting her involved. I didn't even know who she was until she told me her name." She sighed, the muscles around her heart going tender at the memory of Phyona's sad eyes. "Do you know something about what Aziel is doing in the Beyond?"
Desi sprung to her feet, her jaw so rigged that the muscles were visible in her cheek. Nymiria took a step back, confusion washing over her face as she looked at her friend. "You can't talk about that here." Desi whispered. "And I know you have a good heart inside of you, Nym. Soplease, please listen to me when I tell you that you cannot kill him. If you do…" She dug her fingers into her braided scalp, face turned up to the ceiling and her eyes squeezing shut as she seemingly muttered prayers to herself. "Owen wouldn't want this."
Owen wouldn't have wanted her to do a lot of things that she ended up doing over the course of the last few years. He wouldn't have wanted her sneaking out of her room late at night and crawling into bed with random men. He wouldn't have wanted her drowning herself in drinks and partying until the sun came up. He certainly,certainlywould not have wanted her killing more people. She sworethat he would be the last one. But what was a promise broken to someone who wasn't alive to see it happen?
