He smiled. “I’m pleased to know that you can still feel it when it is present.”
Her skin was hot with anger. She could feel it swelling in her chest, the tips of her fingers tingling in warning of the power that resided inside of her. Tamping it down, she stepped towards him. “There was death in your eyes when he grabbed your shoulder. You looked like you were fighting the urge to break his neck!”
Her body reacted on impulse when he moved towards her, her feet moving back until she was pressed against the limestone wall behind her. “Perhaps Ididwant to break his neck,” Aziel said, his tone smooth and dark like whiskey. The fire under her skin, the heat from her anger, spread from her chest to her stomach, leaving her breathless. He did not touch her. His hands were tucked behind his back, but he was standing so close that she could feel the heat of his skin against her own. “I will say this: I am perfectly capable of controlling my Grace, Nymiria, but there are moments when it will appear as a warning.” She opened her mouth to respond, only to close it again when hissmile turned into that same sensually sinister grin that always made her mind go blank. “And it wasn’t because he touchedme. It was because he touchedyou.”
“You meant it, then?” She asked. “That you would kill any and everyone who believed they could have me?”
Aziel kicked his head to one side, his gaze one of intense scrutiny. “I don’t trust him.That’swhy.”
His words weren’t intended to be an insult, but Nymiria still felt the burn of them. Perhaps everything he’d said on that shipwasjust a way for him to lure her off of it. “What about him deems him as untrustworthy?”
“Your father is rebuilding a kingdom, as is Alvaros. It would be foolish of the Alvaros family tonotwant to take this opportunity to expand their kingdom.” He explained. He stepped away from her then, lifting a gloved hand and observing it. “We are discussing alliances at the moment, but that doesn’t mean that we couldn’t possibly be blindsided.”
“Everand has a good heart.” She offered.
Aziel stilled. “You think so? You think that the camps didn’t change him in any way at all?”
Though she did not appreciate the sardonic tang of his tone, he had a good point. Unfortunately, admitting that meant letting go of the naive hope that every Mystic that’d been enslaved wouldn’t suffer, even in their freedom. She’d thought of it a time or two, but she’d put herself at such a distance with the Mystics until now. She never had to face it. But it was naive. She’d been enslaved, too, and could certainly say that there were parts of her soul that’d been darkened by pain.
As if sensing her inner turmoil, Aziel released a long sigh, and turned away from her. “We will begin your lessons tomorrow. Midday. Meet me in my rooms.”
The thought roused a deep fear inside her. It was far too intimate, she couldn’t allow it. “Why your rooms?” She demanded in a hushed yell.
He was already walking, his long legs having put great distance between them. She followed him down the stairs and back into the foyer. The moon shone through the open ceiling overhead, the silver glow of it catching the silver strands of his hair as he turned to face her once again. “As I recall, you once stated that you wanted people to know you asNymiriafirst. If we met anywhere else in the palace, someone would likely see.”
People began flooding out of the dining hall, laughter and chatter following them as they ventured out into the night. Aziel straightened himself, nodding kindly to each person that gave him their attention. He was stoic, but there was a kindness in his eyes that Nymiria very rarely saw. The rage inside of her faded, leaving a soft ache as it went.
The people here did not fear him.
They appreciated him. And that was far more than she could say for herself at the moment. Just hours ago, she’d shown up at his doorstep smelling of earth and alcohol. Though she’d bathed and made herself presentable, the image of herself in that mirror still remained.
There was much to be done. Not just with learning to control herself and the powers she’d been blessed with, but also with herself.
And as she watched Aziel disappear into the crowd, that ache in her chest continued to grow, bringing with it the realization that though Nymiria had searched and searched for herself out there in the world…
She was just as lost as she’d been the moment she decided to leave.
Over the last six months, Nymiria grew more and more accustomed to the act of walking around unsupervised. In Yaar, her days of freedom had been under the watchful eye of a guard, or with Desi. Though Desi never kept her on a leash, it was still the idea of having a chaperone that made her walks feel a lot less free.
The streets of Eadyn shared very little resemblance to the kingdom of Nym. Every building and home had been burned to ash eleven years prior and there was not a husk of anything from her childhood left, save for that small cabin at the edge of the forest. The buildings that’d been erected since they’d started rebuilding the kingdom were not made the same. Once made entirely of darkly stained brick, they were now made entirely of limestone and other pale stones. The streets were paved with beautiful cobblestone, gleaming and clean, and lined with rows of flowers. Lanterns burned every few feet, casting a light onto the path through the heart of the kingdom.
Nymiria looked at each shop, enjoying the rich smells of toffee and chocolate, listening to the distant sounds of people laughing and talking. She followed the noise to a small pub right where the cobblestone turned to dirt, giving way to a lustrous garden that was swarming with creatures with glowing wings.
When she entered the pub, she was thankful that not a single weary soul turned to look in her direction. They were too busy talking amongst themselves—playing cards, exchanging jokes, and living out the last hours of the night without a care in the world.
She approached the bar with caution, letting her hair fall forward and hoping that it would shield her face enough so that no one might recognize her. There were three or four familiar faces in that tavern and one of them happened to belong to the barkeep. His eyes were a deep slate grey, with pale blue skin, and two tusks that protruded from his maw.
In Yaar, he’d been one of Dorid’s guards. He’d been witness to plenty of her beatings and had even removed bodies that she’d killed for the king.
Whether it was dumb courage or sheer stupidity, Nymiria slid onto one of the rickety stools, its wooden legs wobbling under her weight as she adjusted herself on the torn cushion. The barkeep hardly glanced at her, busying himself drying a clay mug.
“Could I have a mug of ale, please?” She asked, her voice small.
The barkeep nodded, still looking elsewhere as he prepared her drink and then slid it in her direction. The ale sloshed out onto the counter, splashing onto her blouse. She tisked, muttering a curse under her breath before bringing the mug to her lips and taking a deep swallow.
The heady brew foamed in her mouth, sliding down her throat and settling in her stomach. A comforting warmth spread through her body, blanketing her self-deprecating thoughts like a liquid quilt. She’d only ever felt that sort of warmth when Aziel agreed to take her weaknesses away, but that comfort was so distant a feeling now and alcohol was the closest thing to it.
She hated it. She hated that shemissedhis power inside of her—that she missed the essence of him embracing her worries and washing them away. She also hated that she had absolutely no money to pay for the ale in her hand and that she would either have to call for help or run out into the night.
