She stared at them for a moment, watching as they twirled as if caught in a light breeze. She glanced at the door again and continued walking, fingers brushing along the leather spines of the books before she passed under the arched threshold that led into another room.
A wash room. And averynice one, at that.
The obsidian basin was stark against the rest of the room, for it seemed as if everything else inside had been carved from the largest amethyst stone she'd ever seen in her life. This room opened out into a veranda of sorts, where she could only see darkness that extended for miles. It didn't matter how far she leaned over the stone ledge, she couldn't even see a lawn. It was all black.
A mixture of panic and wonder made it feel like she couldn't breathe. With no route of escape, sheshouldhave felt nervous. But there was a stronger sense—a stronger desire that made her want to stay.
"Are you hungry?"
Nymiria whirled around at the sound of Aziel's voice echoing through the washroom. He stared back at her with absolutely no expression. No anger, no disgust, just… nothing. It wasn't unsettling, but it was different from the way he'd looked at her before.
She was partially thankful for his nonchalance. She didn't know what to say yet—if she should be thanking him or running for her life. She just needed a moment.
Aziel's appearance was much more relaxed than how he was in Yaar. His hair was disheveled, hanging in his face instead combed to perfection. He wore his usual black clothing. Though, now, there were no high-collar shirts or jackets with gleaming silver buttons. No chains and no jewels hanging from his person. All that remained was a single obsidian earring hanging from his left ear in the shape of a tear drop. And the gloves.
She still hadn't figured that part out yet. The gloves, that is. She never saw him without them and even found herself wondering, not too many nights before, if hebathedin them.
He held a tray of food, a suggestive glance shot in her direction as he waved for her to follow him. She glanced back at the impenetrable darkness before following him, taking a quick look down at the nightgown that replaced her shredded gown from earlier. She didn't know how they'd managed to change her clothes, but she hoped and prayed that it wasn't Aziel that'd taken it upon himself to strip her and change her. She shoved the thought away, determining that she didn't even want to ask. It was better to save herself some dignity. After all that'd transpired.
They walked out of the door to the bedroom, entering into a small dining area that was more intimate than a dining hall, but far more elaborate than any regular dining room she'd ever seen. The table was made of a different black stone than the tub—onyx, she presumed, if only for the way the corners of the tables seemed to glow a soft orange and brown when the firelight hit it.
Aziel placed her tray onto the table before ushering her into her seat. She whispered her appreciation to him as she took up the silver utensils into her hand. One glance at her reflection in the polished metal showed that she was still without her glamour. Which was freeing. She usually slept in full glamour unless she knew there were no visitors in the palace. Because Dorid usually wanted her to be presentable at all hours of the day.
She never knew when she would be needing to kill someone or if he just wanted to show her off.
"Thank you," Nymiria said again, louder this time, as Aziel slid into the chair across from her. His eyes moved up to hers. "For your help in the garden. He would have killed me if you hadn't come."
The air around them seemed to shift, Aziel's brows ticking together and his jaw clenching behind the closed fist he'd propped on the table. "He was going to do more than kill you." He lowered his hand away from his mouth, watching intently as she scooped food onto her spoon. "And there is no need to thank me, Nymiria. Any real man would have done the same."
She couldn't help the small snort that sounded from her, her hand flying to cover her nose as more laughter bubbled from her chest. "Anyrealman?" She hummed. "You aren't a man. You arefae. A Mystic."
"Half."
"Your father comes from a Seelie line."
Aziel grumbled something under his breath, his irritation with her returning. "A little over half, then. But who is truly keeping count? Besides—you know what I meant."
"And you consider yourself to be a real man?"
Aziel smirked at her, a smooth and seductive half-grin that had her turning away from him before he realized she was blushing. "I knowI am…darling." He threw that final word at her with extra sarcasm, rolling his eyes as if to pay homage to his father's disgusting pet name for her. She cringed, doing her best to discreetly fan her warming skin.
But Aziel was not wrong.
She couldn't argue with him on the fact that he was more of a man than any she'd encountered in Yaar. It didn't matter how much fae blood ran through his veins, blood quantity had nothing to do with it, he was what he was. Although she certainly did enjoy besting him with her quick wit and horrible attitude, there was no way she could deny him of his truth. She was appreciative. "May I ask where I am?" She placed her spoon down, folding her hands over her plate. "Everything outside is in complete darkness."
"Yes andyes. You are in my home. Mypersonalquarters. And everything has been darkened for a reason." Nymiria blinked at him before looking around the large space. She didn't know why she would've just assumed that he didn't live anywhere else. Someone like him, anassassin, he surely had many safe houses dotted all across the continent. It only seemed natural.
Nymiria nodded slowly, finally turning her gaze back to him. Her brow furrowed at the plate of food that'd appeared in front of him, his fork already poised over a cut of meat dripping with blood. "How didthatget there?"
"My food?" He plopped the meat into his mouth, a look of amusement flickering over his face as he looked at her. "Magic, I suppose." He shrugged.
It'd been too long. She'd forgotten all that her people were capable of.Magic. Sadness washed over her as she peered down at her food. Even though it'd been sitting out for more than five minutes, it still produced an aromatic steam that curled into the air around her face. She picked up her spoon again and filled it with the wild rice that looked seasoned to perfection and brought it to her mouth. Flavors exploded on her tongue—spices with faint notes of something floral filled her mouth and nose, her eyes going wide as she looked down at the food again.
Magic.
Within mere minutes, her plate was empty and she was reclining against the back of her chair with her hand over her stomach, a satisfied smile on her face. Aziel glanced at her every other second, that same impassive look on his face. Even as her mind wandered back to the creature that'd taken advantage of her vulnerability and her face darkened with the memory of its scaly fingers against her skin, Aziel remained emotionless.
"It was a Mimic." Aziel said over a bite of his fruit. When Nymiria looked at him with a bewildered look on her face, he only shrugged again. "The Mystic that attacked you—it was a Mimic. They have to kill whomever they are planning to take the form of, it's a type of blood magic, different from glamouring. A glamour is intended to only mask a person's most noticeable features, distort them in some way. Mimicry alterseverything. Even fingerprints." He paused, thoughtful. "Andtelling by that look on your face, you're going to ask how I knew what you were thinking next. So, I'll save you the thousand questions you have and just give you this one answer—"
