Camalia ground her teeth together sharply, her growl of malice echoing off the walls around them. The guards raised their weapons, but the queen lifted her hand to halt their movements. That same hand came down upon Nymiria's face,stroking it gently. "You think you are so special, don't you?" The queen chuckled. "Good gods, you have all three of them at your feet. Salivating over you, pleasuring themselves to your image. And what good have you done with your position, Nymiria? You could have had anything you wanted. Perhaps even a throne of your own if you played your cards correctly." Camalia tilted her head to one side. "I gave you a pass to having everything you could have ever wanted and you treat me like this—like we areenemies?"
Nymiria's body went still, her fingers twitching with the desire to wrap them around Camalia's neck andsqueezeuntil the light left her eyes. "I will not kill your son. I don't care what you promised, I will not work for you. Find someone else to do it."
Two months ago, Camalia had approached her with the idea. Dorid had been rather violent with her that evening, smacking her around and even whipping her because she'd smarted off to one of their guests. The queen found her in Desi's healing quarters and offered her the job she once believed she could carry out with no issue. Camalia wanted Dorid and Oran dead—she wanted the crown, the kingdom, and everything in it to behersand no one else's. Nymiria agreed, but only in exchange for her crown.
Not torule, only the crown. The last keepsake she had of her home.
The crown that sat proudly on Dorid's shelf, the one with silver plated branches that once curled perfectly around the shape of her head.
"You are making a very big mistake, little princess."
Nymiria only scoffed, rolling her eyes as she stepped to the side. "I am no princess, your majesty. I'm your worst fucking nightmare." Camalia let out an incredulous laugh as Nymiria began walking away. The queen turned and started after her, but one venomous look shot in her direction had Camalia stopping in her tracks.
The hall fell silent.
Aziel drove his fist into the guards face repeatedly before a hand closed around his shoulder and pulled him back. He shrugged from Oran's grip, body trembling with ferocious anger that almost made him sick to his stomach.
"Say it again," he snarled. "I fucking dare you." The guard only moaned in response, not having a single ounce of strength left to even move his arms. "I stabbed you for the same thing once before, you motherfucker. One would think you learned your lesson by now."
"Aziel."
He finally turned to his brother. He expected to be met with a judgmental stare, but a look of sympathy drenched Oran's features. Aziel wasn't sure which pissed him off more. "You should be the next one I get my hands on." Aziel shoved at Oran's chest, sending him stumbling back. Oran's jaw tightened at the remark, turning his head away from Aziel with a look that resembled shame. Good.
"What have I done?"
"You're getting too close to her."
Oran's brow lowered. "Toprotecther."
"I don't care," the assassin spit at the body laying motionless on the floor. "Stay the hell away from her."
"I can’t." Oran said lowly. "I… I know who she is."
"No, youdon't."
"I do." Oran pressed. "I wanted to stay away, Aziel. I really wanted to, but Ican't."
"Don't you say it. I'm warning you." His threat sounded lifeless, but all of the power he'd been holding in was burning at the tips of his fingers. Death coiled in his blood, a sensual sensation that sent a shiver up his own spine. Like riptides raging under a calm surface of water.
Still, Oran just shook his head and looked at his brother with a pitiful look in his eyes. "She's Greia's heir. She is Anam. And while I cannot love her, I do. But only in the way that a follower loves their god."
Azielfell away from Oran in one swift movement, pressing his fingers against the corner of his eyes as he drew in steadying breaths. “How long have you been following the old gods?”
“Since Rayelle.” Melancholy swallowed Oran’s features, his broad shoulders seemingly shrinking in size at the mere mention of her name. It’d been years since he’d had the courage to even whisper it. “She taught me many things, Aziel. One of those things being the inevitable fate of Anam and Mortem. Destined to hate, fated to—"
"Don't."
It was a single word, but it expressed more than Aziel could ever allow himself to say.
The truth was harder for Aziel to bear than he would like to admit. Though he bore a strong and stoic facade, his insides were twisting and burning with the intensity of his reality. He could no longer hide it. Soon, everyone would realize that the gods were dying and then he and Nymiria would take their place. It was the truth. Written in his mothers journals, words uttered from the mouths of the weary gods that could no longer supply and protect a world they did not love.
“She’s your mate, Aziel.” Oran’s whisper was barely heard over the whirring in his ears. Aziel stared straight ahead, his face unchanging from the look of contempt he wore there. "The two of you are destined for one another. I… read your mother's journals."
Another truth. Another part of his reality that had been too hard to face since discovering who the next Anam was.
Nymiria was his mate.
Promised to one another, their fates sealed, before they ever drew their first breaths.
