“So I’ve heard.” She chuckled.
He let the water run into the pitcher until it was full before he addressed her again. “I do appreciate the offer, but I must decline.” He didn’t necessarily intend to give such a wide berth when he passed her by and while he inwardly hoped that she would take no offense, his mind was preoccupied with the task at hand. Aziel returned to Nymiria’s side, taking up a clean wash cloth and dunking it into the water and bringing the corner to her lips. The excess liquid spilled into the faint part of them, slowly rolling into her mouth drip by careful drip.
“Your brother told me about the two of you—how you are mates.” Fiernan continued. “I don’t mean to pester you at a time like this, but I am simply trying to distract myself. War is…”
Aziel spared her a glance. “Terrifying. I know. I feel it too.”
The princess hovered behind him, watching as he began to wash what little was of Nymiria’s skin. He started with her face, peeling back leaves and buds of flowers in order to wipe her clean. When he was finished, he moved to her hands. “What is it like to have a mate?”
He paused, fingers lingering on the delicate curve of Nymiria’s wrist. He brushed over the runes marking the inside of it—the shimmering and glorious evidence of their blessed union. “It’s terrifying and painful.” He said quietly. He looked at his bride, branches feeling as if they were now digging into his muscles. “I’ve loved people before, but there is nothing that compares to this. It is like the embodiment of your heart and soul encased into one perfect person. It is terrifying to know that love cannot defeat fate and it is painful for the same reason. But, I have never felt something quite as rewarding or pure. I have never felt someone’s emotions besides my own, but with her… I feel everything. I feel her, I feel love, I feel anger and pain andsadness. I feeljoy, of all things. Part of the reason why I wouldn’t want to remove this curse I’ve placed upon myself is because she’s the only person it responds to—the only thing in this whole world that it obeys. And if she is the only person that ever sees the most vulnerable parts of me, then I am perfectly fine with that. It all belongs to her, anyway.”
Fiernan’s lips lifted slightly, eyes dropping to her hands as he spoke. She didn’t mind letting him speak. Because the longer he talked, the more relaxed his body became. And, perhaps, he would finally take his rest. “She absolutely despises the color red. Her favorite color is pink. Not the average pink you can achieve from dyes, but the pink that can only be found in the petal at the inside of a red rose, where the color starts to leech away. She waits exactly five minutes after tea is served before she takes the first sip. She wiggles her toes when she reads and talks to plants when she believes no one is looking. When she is nervous, she tries to mask it with anger. When she is sad, she expresses it in fury. She likes taking walks. She hates corsets and she never learned to plait her own hair, but can manage just about any style otherwise. She always makes the same face when she takes her first sip of absynthe—a mixture of disgust and intrigue and she will drink even though she hates it and prefers wine over anything. And she can catch a fish with her bare hands.”
He continued by telling Fiernan of the first time he saw her. Their first meeting hadn’t been so unpleasant. In fact, it was probably the most joyous day of his entire childhood. His mother took him to the Kingdom of Nym when he was but a boy, claiming that it was a very special day for their people. At the age of five, the only royal event he ever attended had been Oran’s cleansing ceremony and was terrified about making a fool of himself at the princess’s coronation.
His fear was not needed. They were welcomed into the queen’s palace with open arms, ushered kindly to the throne room and watched, with the rest of the kingdom, as Princess Nymiria Celentas was named crown princess of Nym. The young girl, with wild white hair and sparkling blue eyes was carried from person to person, accepting gifts and kisses and blessings of fortitude. When it was finally his turn to offer her blessings of prosperity, his mother had slipped a single pink flower into his hand. He reached up as much as he could, his and Nymiria’s eyes meeting the moment their fingers touched. But then she took the flower and was gone. He wasn’t even sure she remembered him, if she’d made that connection about his identity at all.
For years, he believed that he was forgettable. Disposable. Just as his father wished for him to be. Whether or not she remembered him, it mattered very little. The parts of himself that he’d hidden away had found a home in her, just as all of hers had found a place of sanctuary in him. Neither of them had to navigate the world alone anymore.
If only she would just wake up.
Chapter 42
The Tomb of the Gods was not as she imagined. In books, it was depicted as a part of the Otherworld—a place of nightmares, a labyrinth with snares and spooks to keep mortals from entering or leaving—but it seemed as if this place was its own realm in entirety, a place of peace and beauty, yet just malevolent enough to ensure its own safety. The tomb stretched on for as far as she could see, the light within the tomb dimming and fading to black at what she believed to be the end, or the complete opposite. Perhaps that darkness was a void, a place that stretched on for eternity, yet to be filled with the bones of the gods that would come after.
“It has no end.” A voice called in the distance. It was melodic and captivating, a certain edge of sharpness to the tone. Nymiria glanced to where Teigh once stood beside her. In his place was a woman. The same woman that stood at her bedside and urged her to rise, urged her to get up and embrace the pain of the power flowing through her when Phyona first removed thosewitchlocks from her back. It was the woman she’d prayed to her whole life—the one who tried to reach her, but couldn’t. Not because she’d been too weak, but because Fate had gotten in the way. Nymiria felt Greia’s hand slip into hers, tingles spreading from the place where their hands met. “I find things without an end to be mildly terrifying. The concept of eternity is one that not even our minds can comprehend. But could you imagine how Cadaith must feel? She is the only one who is eternal—she existed long before us and will exist long after—it must become quite lonely.”
Nymiria nodded, her attention focusing on the darkness once again. “Where will you go after this?” Though her voice was a whisper, it still echoed in the silence.
The goddess, her form diminishing, merely shrugged. “Where the rest of them go, I suppose. Into the void—the ether.”
“Are you scared?”
“The second death is always more terrifying than the first, little flower.” Greta said gently, giving her hand a comforting squeeze. “But after so long being alive, watching all of those I came to love die, I believe that I am ready for the rest I have earned. It has been a very sad ten thousand years.”
Nymiria could understand the exhaustion. Although she was still young, still within her first century of life, the weight of a lifetime seemed as if it would crush her at times. Greia had watched everyone she ever cared for her family—her parents, her children and grandchildren, and even their children’s children—pass on. How she must have longed to join them.
“I loved him enough to stay with him, though. As much as I loved my family, I don’t think my soul could have handled leaving Teigh in this realm on his own.” Greia walked to a stone bench, her delicate and mist-like fingers trailing over ancient runes that Nymiria couldn’t even recognize. “He didn’t have an easy life, that man. And for years I believed that he didn’t havea heart or soul that was worth much. He’d been cruel from the start, you see—always pestering me and belittling me when we were in school. When we met again, all those years later, he took me in. He gave me a home. And I do not just mean a home in the sense of four walls and a door, I mean that he gave me the security and protection that I’d never received as a girl.”
“He gave and gave, not realizing that his generosity was turning to greed, until it killed me. And then he gave more of himself to bring me back to him. To me, it seemed as if abandoning him would not just have been unfair, it would have been a disservice to the man I loved, the man who deserved for me to fight just as strongly as he had.” There was a brief pause, her lifeless eyes moving along the large squares that lined the walls. Plaques, Nymiria realized, perhaps capping the bones of godlike predecessors that were so ancient they weren’t recorded in modern texts. “And hefoughtfor me, Nymiria. Perhaps more than he should have. Just as much as your mate fought foryou.”
That deep ache returned in Nymiria’s chest, her hands curling around the still-damp fabric of her dress. “Is that why you are letting me go back? So that I can fight for Aziel the same way that you fought for Teigh?”
“Isn’t that what you want?”
She didn’t hesitate. Nymiria was nodding before she was even able to rasp out the words that felt so thick in her throat. “Yes,” she almost pleaded. “More than anything.”
“If you wish to return, you must promise me something.”
“Anything—“
“Accept your godhood.” Greia said, the kindness of her tone suddenly stern. Not in a rude way, Nymiria would say, but in the way a mother would scold a child she knew was worth so much more than the child believed. Greia seemed to know where Nymiria’s doubts resided, for her gaze was still tender. “You will not have all of the answers, Nymiria. I lived for ten thousandyears and still was not able to deliver clarity toallof my followers. There are just some things in this world, my love, that we are not meant to understand. But I don’t look at it as being ignorant or unqualified. I see it as us beingreal.” She shook her head, a reminiscent gleam in the grey of her eyes. “Just follow your heart, Nymiria. I promise you it is not as corrupt as you believe it to be. I’ve known your heart since you were born, and it is one of the many reasons why I chose you.”
“Why else did you choose me?” The words spilled from her at their own accord.
Greia rose from her place on the bench and approached her with such grace it riddled Nymiria with a sense of apprehension. The goddess extended her hand, her fingers now cold to the touch. “You try to see the best in the worst of all creations, Nymiria. Having a heart in this world, caring for things as deeply as you do, is the most difficult thing for a person to do. But you do it—even though you are scared, even when you are angry—youlove. That is why I chose you. I believed that you would not hold bias and assess those who call for your blessings with love in your heart.” She smiled. “But the fierceness inside of you, your willingness to defend the things you love and care for, is what will maintain the sanctity of your realm of power. It will earn you reverence. You are the perfect balance, Nymiria. The person I have been searching for to take my place forthousandsof years—and believe me, I have met hundreds of candidates. But none of them captured me quite like you did. For someone who worshiped and prayed to me so dutifully, I would like to believe that you do not doubt the decisions I make. The others and I, we tried to guide you as best as we could.”
“The others?”
