Nymiria scoffed, rolling her eyes at a moonflower painting that hung on the wall. “How thoughtful of him.” As they came closer to the end of the corridor, the hairs on Nymiria’s arms lifted at their own accord. She slung a glance over her shoulder, only to find an empty hallway lurking behind her. “You wouldn’t happen to know where he is, would you?”
Hilla looked at her with a confused expression, shaking her head as she withdrew a large ring filled with keys. She sifted through them without looking, only feeling the grooves to decipher which one was needed. “He doesn’t really inform anyone when he leaves, nor does he disclose where he is going. He sort of just comes and goes as he pleases.” She paused, glancing down at the keys and pulling a single one free. “He does frequent Thorn’s and often stays at The Twisted Willow, though. I know that much. Mostly because his tab from the Willow is always delivered on Monday morning and it’s my job to ensure it gets paid.” She shrugged.
“Does he not like staying here?”
Hilla shrugged again, turning the lock and pushing the door open. “I’m not sure. As I said, he’s not here much. And when he is, he doesn’t usually speak to us. Unless he gets bored.”
“Us?”
“Lorelei and myself. He offered us a place to stay when we were all displaced after Yaar and she and I took over managing the household. Gods only know that he won’t. Apparently, he has far more pressing matters to attend to other than cleaning and cooking.” She rolled her eyes and walked into the room. “He comes home, locks himself in his room, takes the majority of his meals alone, sleeps alone, and only ever lets Trio inside. It’s quite pitiful, I must say.”
“Sounds lonely.” Nymiria muttered.
Hilla nodded, turning to face Nymiria and waving her into the room. “I’ve tried to tell him to find a companion, but he insists that he’s taken another vow of celibacy.” She chuckled, shaking her head at the thought. “The two of you seemed to have gotten quite close in Yaar. What ever happened there?”
Nymiria didn’t know what to say, so she just told the truth. “I ran away because my mother was the Witch Queen and I feared that Aziel would always see her face in mine. That everyone would.”
Hilla’s face drained of all color, her lips parting around a small gasp. Upon realizing her mistake, she placed a hand to her chest and cleared her throat. “Well… you are welcome to stay as long as you like. Aziel said—“
Nymiria slid her way into the room, gliding around Hilla’s shocked form. “Can you tell him something for me the next time you see him?” She asked, nose scrunching at all of the purple decor. When her eyes caught the small notes of pink scattered around the room, she felt her heart soften. Whether the detail was added by Desi, Trio, or by Aziel himself, it made her want to smile. She sank her teeth into her cheek to keep the muscles from reacting. “Tell him that I’m ready. For what he offered me on the ship.”
“Tell him yourself.”
Nymiria whirled around, her brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line at the sound of his voice. Hilla was gone and, in her place, Aziel stood there with his horns on full display. His lips twitched into a smug grin, eyes roving over her less than presentable attire. She was in rags compared to what he wore. Though it was a simple black tunic with black breeches and boots to match, he still looked like royalty. And thereshewas, covered from head to toe in muck and sweat, her hair matted and twisted around twigs and leaves. She folded her arms in front of herself, as if it would stop him from seeing how she looked. It didn’t, but he didn’t laugh. He didn’t even make a sarcastic remark about her state of being.
His eyes finally settled on her face. “Hello, moonflower.”
“Hello, demon.” She sneered, fighting against the sudden breathlessness that plagued her.
He let out something short of a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he took another step closer. “Welcome home.”
Nymiria braced herself, averting her eyes from the array of piercings that decorated his face and ears. They gleamed in the most tantalizing way possible, luring her thoughts to places far less modest. She sighed and gestured about the room. “Thank you for this. It is quite lovely.” She stated.
Aziel’s gaze followed hers. “It was no bother.” He stated simply, shrugging. “I figured you would like to be comfortable whenever you chose to return.”
Chose to return?
She scoffed, shooting him a sidelong look before she strode deeper into the room. Her fingers trailed over the posts on the bed, allowing the tips to dip into each intricate design carved into the darkened wood. The heat of his gaze followed her, the silence nearly deafening, an uncomfortable pressure at her ears.
She rounded the bed, plopping herself onto the mattress with a soft huff before finding the courage to look at him again. “As Isaid, before you ran poor Hilla off with your terrifying presence, I would like to take you up on the offer you extended to me on the ship. I want to learn how to control…this.” She motioned towards the moonflowers along her skin.
When she looked at him again, she noted his rigidness, the smug look he wore beforehand, now nothing but an emotionless mask. He gave a firm nod. “Of course.” He stated bluntly. He took a step back towards the door, glancing around the room before extending his finger to an archway. “That is your wash room. There is an armoire of clothing for you, as well.”
Did she smell that awful?Nymiria’s nose crinkled at the thought, suppressing the urge to sniff at herself as she rose to her feet and started towards the arch.
“Dinner will be served in an hour,” he continued.
Nymiria stood there, confused, as she listened to the sound of him retreating. When the door to her room closed, she turned to look at the place where he once stood. It was foolish, she knew, to hope that he’d still be standing there—that he would have teased her, reprimanded her, or saidsomething.
Perhaps she’d forgotten that there was no use in trying to pinpoint Aziel Haze, his intentions, and the way his mind worked. He was a complex man, just as she was a complex woman. The more she focused on him and whatever it was that plagued his thoughts, the more she would forget why she’d decided to come back.
There was no use. It would only lead to ruin for both of them.
It did not take long for Nymiria to figure out the mechanics of the rose quartz basin in her washroom. It operated much like any other wash basin—just larger.
The room was much brighter than Aziel’s personal washroom, the pale pink walls giving way to a ceiling that was canopied by vines adorned with white blossoms. The strands cascaded down the six pillars that lined either side of the tub, one side of theroom dedicated to a comfortable chase and footbench, as well as a large armoire she believed would house the clothes Aziel spoke of. A large, silver-framed, dressing mirror hung on the wall. Ornate, yet refined, with each corner swirling with a delicate filigree.
The other wall was lined with glass bottles and metal tins, each of them capped and labeled. Small pink crystal bottles containing body oils, clear bottles that held arrays of scented soaps.
