“Thank you.”
It was all that she could manage to say. And while she expected for Thorn to dismiss her, having found her useless, she soon felt the hardened parts of her heart softening when a knock on the door led to a few women coming into the room with tea and pastries.
Thorn handed her a plate and saucer before his large hand came down between her shoulders. “You must be starved.” He sighed. “Go ahead and enjoy your meal. Aziel and I have a meeting with Everand here shortly.”
Nymiria glanced at Aziel again, only to find that he was staring impassively out the window, his own cup of tea looking hilariously dainty in his gloved hands. Turning back to her father, she nodded. Thorn left the room then and she waited, her stomach in knots, and watched as Aziel approached her.
He placed his cup of tea on the table at her side and then leaned down, so close that his lips brushed against the shell of her ear. “People in the Otherworld can experience two deaths, Nymiria. One on this plane of existence, and one there, down below.” Her body went still, chills crawling along her skin. “If I slit that barkeep’s throat in the Otherworld, he turns to nothing. His soul, his energy, they both vanish completely. If you so much as blink in my direction, I will do it—erase him from this world, thisuniverse, entirely.”
She slowly turned, her breath hitching and her eyes dropping to the beautiful swell of his lips. He was far too close. The slightest move could bring complete devastation to them both.Nymiria blinked when she met his stare and with that, Aziel merely smiled.
“Might I add,” he whispered. “I believe that you would look absolutely stunning in a crown. Should you ever decide to wear one again.” It was far too sensual. Everything about him just radiated something that made her insides boil. Even that damned smirk he wore made her feel as if she would combust. “I look forward to seeing you at home, moonflower, as I’d prefer not to be forced to retrieve you from any more dungeons in the near future.”
“I don’t intend to get into any more trouble.” She offered weakly.
Aziel let out a small humph, eyes gleaming. “Good girl.” And with that, he shoved himself away from her.
His absence was felt immediately. The air in front of her suddenly chilled, already drained of the warmth he emitted. It took every ounce of strength inside of her not to turn and watch him leave, but she wanted to. Desperately.
Nymiria’s legs buckled underneath her, the impact from Dorid’s fist ringing through her jaw and up into her mind. It felt as if her skull was trembling, blinking her eyes rapidly in hopes to clear her swimming vision.
Dorid jerked at the lapels of his jacket, his eyes narrowed as he looked down his nose at her slumped form. “Now,” he sighed. “I do not enjoy punishing you, Nymiria. It makes me physically ill to lay a single hand on such a beautiful little creature. But I will not stand for your ill-mannered behavior any longer.” He knelt down in front of her, his fingers clasping her chin and jerking her face in front of his. She hadn’t realized her lip had split open until he brushed the blood away, shooting her a lookof disdain as he plopped the smear of blood that now graced his thumb into his mouth.
His eyes fluttered closed, a sickening groan sounding at the back of his throat. “Absolutely revolting.” He tossed her face away and righted himself again, quickly peering around at his guards. “Take her to the little healer bitch in the servants quarters and have her fix her face. She has people to entertain tonight and I do not want anyone to believe that she requires discipline.”
No sooner than the words left his mouth, Nymiria was gripped by both arms and hoisted to her feet.
The guards didn’t even bother allowing her to get her footing before they led her out of the hall and down a small flight of stairs. She finally braced herself, tripping over her feet for a few steps, and straightened as they approached Desi’s room that she shared with the other servants.
They didn’t knock, they simply kicked open the door and shoved her inside.
“His Majesty has demanded healing for her lip. She must be ready within the hour.” The large guard said, his voice stern and gruff. She glanced over her shoulder at him, watching him closely as he turned and slammed the door behind him.
Waiting until the sounds of their footsteps dwindled to silence, Nymiria finally turned to where Desi stared up at her. Laid on one of the cots, arms tucked under his head, and his eyes screwed shut, was Owen.
“What happened?” She asked.
Owen winced again, letting out a small gasp when Desi fed her stitching needle through one side of the open gash on his back. She paused, allowing him a moment to breathe and open his eyes. “Horses got loose. Those imported ones.” He grit his teeth, fingers curling around the edge of the cot as Desi continued threading the wound closed.
Nymiria sighed, shaking her head. She turned to Desi’s shelves, already plucking some herbs and a tin of salve from their usual place. This sort of thing didn’t happen too often, but it’d happened frequently enough that Nymiria already knew exactly which tins could help. Owen watched her, hissing when Desi accidentally threaded too close to the visible meat in the valley of his cut. “What didyoudo?” He asked.
Opening the lid and running her finger over the creamy mixture, Nymiria sighed. “Stared too long at Camalia’sridiculousfinger cuffs.” She scoffed and rolled her eyes, rubbing the cream over her lip. “She thought that I believed they were ugly.”
“Did you?” Desi hummed.
She snorted. “Good gods, yes. They looked absolutely ridiculous.” She rolled her eyes and plopped down onto the cot beside Owen, the young man smiling up at her when she reached forward and brushed his hair out of his eyes. “How can you smile at a time like this?”
Seeing the solemn look on her face, Owen grabbed her hand, weaving their fingers together before placing a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “I wasn’t smiling until you walked in.”
His words were enough to ease her weary mind, the aching in her chest that’d been lingering inside of her for years. She’d never seen someone look at her like this. She’d never felt worth more than what others wanted her to be—Owen loved her for who she was. He never asked for more or less of her, he took it all. Helovedit all.
“Which one of them did this?” She asked.
Her lover was still peppering her hand with kisses, the dim orange glow from the candles around the room catching fire on his slick, bronzed skin. He looked up at her, but instead of those brilliant green eyes that haunted her, they were blue.
Owen’s face transformed, his skin growing paler, his hair fading to silver, until the person that looked up at her was nothim, but Aziel.
Aziel, with horns. Aziel, with three long claw marks running from his ear to the curve of his jaw. He was broken. Battered.
