Aziel only hummed in response, his fingers brushing over the lettering stamped into the leather cover of the book. "Are you in need of a witch?"
The question had her dumbfounded, her mouth floundering for a moment before she offered a shrug. "Do you know any?"
He nodded, thumping the cover twice before picking it up and tucking it under his arm. "I know a few of them, actually, each varying in different areas of expertise. What are you needing help with so urgently that you had to steal from me?"
Nymiria swallowed down her hateful remark, biting the inside of her cheek to school the twisted and angry expression threatening to take over her face. He was offering his help. She needed to bekindin return. "Runes. Ones meant to contain something powerful." She sighed.
There was a beat of silence between them, Aziel's eyes once again flickering with that same unreadable melancholy as before. "I will see what information I can get for you. In the meantime," he was striding past her now, glancing down only as their shoulders brushed. "If you need anything of mine, I'd highly consider that you ask first. You may stumble upon something you didn't want to see." His eyes hovered on her lips, the heat in her body blooming in response to his gaze. "I'll give you anything you want if you ask nicely, moonflower."
Chapter 19
Having to give credit where it was due, Nymiria reluctantly and inwardly complimented Aziel’s preparedness. His request for her help seemed agreeable and harmless enough until she realized that Dorid would question her whereabouts and perhaps send guards with her to watch her every move.
She breathed a sigh of relief when Desi whispered to her that Dorid was up north in Fairnam, attending Brandt’s funeral. The majority of the palace went with him, all of them mourning their friends’ death—as if Dorid hadn’t been planning for the Lord of Fairnam to be killed all along. Perhaps he was mourning the missed opportunity to claim that death for himself. One could never be too certain.
Nymiria groaned as she took another step forward off of the beaten path that led out of the city. The belt locked between her legs was already starting to chafe, forcing a hiss from her every time she moved her leg at a certain angle.
The chastity belt was non-negotiable—at least for the first half of this quest. If she was stopped and questioned, the guards would force her to show that she was locked. Desi hadn’t been too happy about it, but itwasher idea—and for that, feeling the burn of the metal slicing through thin layers of skin with each swing of her leg, Nymiria felt betrayed.
“How much longer until we reach the Twisted Willow?” Nymiria huffed.
Desi smirked down at her, smoothing an unruly curl away from her face. “A while.” She paused, frowning. “I think.”
The Twisted Willow was one of the most well-hidden Mystic establishments that was still left in Yaar. Very few knew of its existence—not even the king knew about it. It was said that anyone who was smart enough to locate it was smart enough to enter, including humans. They did not discriminate when it came to intelligence, for intelligence was a great and honorable feat in the Mystic realm. The people of Yaar were a different breed entirely in that respect, most humans even going as far as to claim that their children did not need proper schooling in order for them to thrive. Which was partially true considering the availability of jobs in the city and outside of it.
You were either a merchant, a guard, a Huntsman, ran a farm of some sort, or you worked for the king in any of the other various ways one might.
Very seldom did parents teach their children of the magic that still existed within the walls of the kingdom, most residents having been raised to believe that the great and evil magic was extinguished by the Yaarboroughs. But this was far from true, despite what Dorid’s history books had some believe. Humans once told their children stories of the unexplainable, of the mists and the wilds.
But things were only unreal to those who no longer believed in them. The truths still lurked in the darkness, deep in the shadows of the city and off the beaten paths.
Desi slowed her pace some, noticing the tight grimace on Nymiria’s face. “If I apologized for the belt, would you accept it?”
Nymiria shot her a look that could kill, lifting her skirts higher to step over a fallen tree. “No.” She snapped. “The only form of apology I will accept is you taking this blasted thing off of me.”
“As soon as we cross the Divide, I promise, you’ll be a free woman once again.”
Nymiria snorted at that, rolling her eyes as she stumbled over the root of a tree. “A free woman, you say. But the shackles on my existence still tether me to the king. As soon as this is all over, the belt goes back on and I will have a dagger shoved into myhands—“
“You mean, this one?”
Both women whirled around at the deep voice that sounded behind them. Nymiria’s heart was in her throat, her stomach in knots until she realized that Aziel was only a few short paces behind them, deftly twirling her dagger between both extended forefingers. She narrowed her eyes.
“That is mine.” She started towards him, only to watch as the dagger slipped back into the holster at his hip.
“Seems as if we are both thieves now.” He smirked, winking in Desi's direction. “You can unlock the belt now.”
Desi glanced around, eyes narrowed as she scoped the forest. “Are we in the Divide?”
Aziel shook his head, turning his back to give them more privacy. “No. But I’ve been trailing behind you both for some time now and if I have to withstand one more moment of watching her walk in pain, I might just kill someone.”
They skirted off the path, shielding themselves behind a tree so that Nymiria could lift her skirts. Desi pulled the small key out of her boot, sparing glances over her shoulder as Nymiria unlocked the contraption and slid it off her legs. She felt like hurling the heavy metal into the depths of the forest, but as soon as her skirts fell back down around her ankles, a gloved hand snatched the belt from her grip.
“Aziel!” Desi hissed, visibly perplexed by the action.
Aziel eyed the belt, his face pinched with distaste. “This is iron.” He snarled, a thousand unsaid words flickering with the vibrant rage building behind his eyes. His jaw clenched so tightly that Nymiria swore she heard the joints popping.
Nymiria watched, bewildered, as he shoved the belt into the sack on his shoulder. “What are you doing with that? Ineedit—" She lurched forward, fear settling into her stomach at the thought of what might happen if she was caught without it, but Aziel only stepped out of reach and started down the path once again.
