“Why?” Aziel sighed. “Afraid you might actually enjoy it?”
She knew that he was only teasing, but there was a flicker of sadness in her chest at what he said. For many years, she didn’t think twice about what her role was in the kingdom. She’d known from the moment she was placed with the other courtesans what she was worth. A pretty face, a hole to fill, someone to exhaust and use to fulfill even the wildest of fantasies.
Still, hearing Aziel say it—confirmwho she was, it made her ache. She decided to be honest with him. “I don’t want you to see me like that.” She confessed.
There was a beat of silence that seemed to stretch on for eternity. Her cheeks were red, her eyes threatening to fill with tears as she waited for him to say something.Laugh, make another joke—something other than this torture. When fear gripped at her stomach, she looked up to see him staring down at her so intently that the knife slipped from her hands.
“I’ve never seen you as a courtesan.” It was all that he said before he rose to his feet and walked away.
Nymiria watched after him for a moment, her heart pounding as he went. She didn’t know what to make of what he said. Hell, she didn’t know what to make ofanyof this. Everything that had happened… she hadn’t even had the time to think through all of it.Processit.
By the time she finished filleting the fish, Aziel had built a fire in a small clearing that was hidden by an overgrowth of dense vines and trees. He'd gathered sticks to help with roasting, both of them silent as they twirled their meat over the flames. Only occasionally did they glance up at one another. Nymiria found herself grateful for the fact that there were many tasks to complete before they slept—it kept her mind and her eyes from wandering. They ate their fish quickly before scurrying away from the fire and busying themselves.
"Is the ground good enough for you?" Aziel asked. Nymiria looked up from where she was kicking dirt over the charred logs and ash, swatting smoke away from her face.
She shrugged.
She wasn't too particular and it wouldn't be the first time she'd woken up on a bed of grass. "No fancy magic left for you topoofus a bed or two?" She snorted.
"You want the short answer or the long answer?"
It was meant to be a jest, but now she was interested in what he had to say. "Long answer."
Nymiria watched as Aziel stretched himself out on the ground, his arms tucked under the back of his head to offer some semblance of comfort. She stared at him for a moment before doing the same. Once they were both laid out under the stars, a cacophony of crickets and frogs chirping around them, Aziel let out a long sigh.
"Ten years ago, when I was fifteen, my father tried to kill me in the most cowardly way possible. Once he discovered that I had the smallest seed of magic, he sent me into the pit to play for the position of being one of his many assassins. He didn't think that I would make it past the first day. And though the men I was against took it easy on me for the first few hours, it turned into an absolute bloodbath. Each of them fought each other for the chance at killing the king's bastard son—thinking that offering my head on a stick would grant them mutiny." Nymiria turned to him when he paused, watching him as his fingers twirled the black jewel pinned to the lapel of his ranger jacket. "I got scared. I mean, gods, I was just aboy. I didn't know how to hold a knife, let alonekillsomeone." He shook his head, his face dark with memories. "I tried scaling the side of the pit, but it was all smoothed out. There wasn't a groove or hole I could use to hoist myself up. When I fell back down, they were on me—beatingme, throwing rocks at me."
Nymiria propped herself up on her elbows, her hands itching—twitching to reach across the three feet of space that separated them and touch him. As if atouch could take the memories or the pain away. Aziel didn't have to have an expressive face for her to know that it hurt. The pain was in his eyes.
Always, his eyes.
"Anyway, something happened. All I remember was screaming and then everything went black. When I woke up, every single person in that pit was dead. Not an ounce of blood left in them, just gray skin hanging off of bone. Camalia always had dabbled in witchcraft and while my father wanted me dead, she believed that I was useful to their cause. So, she put these spells on me that makes my magic weaker whenever I'm in Yaar."
He still wasn't looking at her. She could understand that much. Aziel didn't want her pity, nor her shock. He didn't want to see her horror. He'd probably seen it all on many different faces when they heard what happened to him—what hisfamilymade him endure. All because someone felt threatened.
An ache buried deep beneath Nymiria's ribs flared, her face twisting as she bit her cheek. Tears stung her eyes, her hand slowly moving to cover the mark on her stomach that'd been branded on her ten years ago.
Traitor.
Aziel cleared his throat, hoping to ease the intense sadness that enveloped them. "You should get some sleep. We will be going through the vines tomorrow."
She was in no position to object, but as Aziel fell silent again and his breaths turned shallow, Nymiria was left alone with her thoughts.
Dark green vines curled around her arms, slithering over her skin, twisting their way up to her neck, through her hair, and braiding themselves through the pale silver-white tresses until they formed a crown.
Nymiria watched through the silver-plated mirror in her hand, her fingers making a slow path to the crown that was now blooming with an array of white and pale pink flowers. She brushed her fingers over the petals, feeling their silk-liketexture slip between the pad of her thumb and pointer finger before her hand fell back to her side.
She saw him in the reflection of the glass, watching her as he always did. Instead of the angry features she was familiar with, he looked at her the way one might look at an altar. Or a statue.
Her gaze shifted back to the mirror.
The glow of her skin was not an abnormal sight. It was something that frequently happened when she felt intense emotions—usually accompanied with fear. But she wasn’t scared. She didn’t feel anything, but the earth. Her senses were blooming with the sounds of whispers, the leaves on the trees rustling in cadences that formed words. Prayers.
She could hear cries for life, pleas for help—for children to get better from illnesses and for plants to grow.
The whispers surrounded her, the smell of moonflowers filled her nose, mixing with the faint and seductive aroma of cherry blossoms. Grass tickled at her feet, each strand stretching to reach the light that was emitting from her skin.
“The most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life.” Aziel said.
