“Yes.” Aziel nodded again, his gloves hand coming up to rub along his jaw. “As is Trio.”
“Trio?” Nymiria’s brow furrowed. “I’ve never seen their marks.”
“They fade with time. Marked at birth does not necessarily mean that they are marked for life. A lot of Guardians used to get them tattooed onto their brow if they faded.” He moved around the table to where she sat. Though she tried not to be overly aware of his proximity, she could not control the way her body heated when he placed his hand on her back, nor couldshe ignore that tart, aromatic scent of cherry blossoms. “Oran’s was hidden when he was born. According to some other journal entries I have collected, they explain that Camalia, therealCamalia, had sought out a fae witch to glamour the marks.”
Her chest tightened. “It wasn’t… was itmym—”
Aziel shook his head quickly. “No. It was not her.” He sighed, pressing his finger onto one of the pages at the very end of the book. “It washer.”
The Rune Witch.
Before Phyona assumed her role as the Rune Witch, there had been another. When Hilla and Lorelei had helped them find the witch to have Nymiria’s witchlocks removed in Yaar, they explained that Dieve had kept the identity of the previous Rune Witch concealed. If the state of the pages meant anything, the Rune Witch had to have been ancient. Far older than her mother—far older than any witch that Nymiria had ever known. And she’d known quite a bit of them, thanks to her mother.
“I suspect something,” Nymiria inquired. She looked up at Aziel when he didn’t respond, but by the subtle upwards tilt of his brow, she took that as encouragement to continue. “You may think that this sounds absolutelyinsane, but do you think that Dieve is more than a simple kitchen witch? She’s been training Phyona to take that position. And Dieve is old.”
Aziel chuckled. “Dieve has always been old. But I do believe it’s a possibility. But, if we’re being entirely honest, Dieve would be so much more than a mere Rune Witch. She’s utterly terrifying.” He arched his brow at her. “Are you perhaps trying to distract yourself with something to avoid therealtopic at hand?”
When he slowly turned to her from what he was reading, still leaning over top of her, Nymiria’s face heated. “Perhaps. Or perhaps I’m just retaining too much information for my learning breeches to properly handle.” Shielding her face with her hair,she slumped down further in her seat. “If Dieve were a god and not a witch, which one do you think she’d be?”
Aziel hummed curiously, the rumble of it spread through her body. “The Goddess of Deception, certainly. I’ve never, once, seen someone thatvisiblyold and wrinkled unless they were human. She’s obviously hiding something.”
“Are there other godlings here?”
“If there are, we haven’t found them yet.” Aziel finally leaned away from her, allowing her to breathe evenly. “But I assume they’ll reveal themselves soon enough. The old gods are almost entirely dead now. Their heirs should be picked and placed by now.”
“Alright,” Nymiria groaned dramatically. “Now Ireallydon’t think these breeches can retain anymore knowledge.”
Once again laughing quietly, Aziel shook his head. “I suppose that will be enough for today, then.” He roused to his full height, gracefully turning on his heel and walking towards his sleeping chambers.
Nymiria quickly closed her book, haphazardly tossing it onto the table before she followed him. “This is quite a bit of pressure to place upon one person, you know? The idea that my moral compass will be the guide for these spiritual versions of myself is a little terrifying.”
“Why would that be terrifying?” He opened the armoire, eyes focused on the clothes as he sifted through them.
She went still, her brow wrinkling. “I’m beginning to think that you don’t know me all that well, Mr. Haze.” He shot her a dead-panned stare from around the armoire door, lips in a harsh line. “Donotlook at me like that. There is hardly anything I have done that has not been acted out on impulse.”
Aziel tugged a dress shirt from his collection and shut the door, turning to her slowly. “Then I suppose our next lesson would be you learning how to control that.”
“That could take years.”
He gripped the hem of his tunic and pulled it over his head, revealing impeccably toned muscles that rippled underneath the gruesome twist of branches and roots that covered his torso. “I have the time.” He said simply, shrugging into his shirt. He watched himself button it and Nymiria, already missing the beautiful expanse of his skin, watched as well. Unashamed.
Partiallyashamed.
“I have somewhere to be.” He grabbed a suit coat from the back of the desk chair and headed to the washroom.
Nymiria rolled her eyes, still trailing after him. She couldn’t quite understand his sudden shift in mood and perhaps he was perfectly entitled to feeling whatever it was he wanted to feel about her, but there was still that nagging thought in her mind that’d bothered her the majority of the day.
He came to her the night before. When her nightmare had done such a thorough job with her mind that it made her physically ill, he’d carted her off to his room and tucked her into his bed as if she’d belonged there. And now…
Forget it. Walk away.
She started to back away from the washroom, but Aziel was suddenly turning to her, that sharp look back in his eyes that made her freeze in place. “Why didn’t you tell me that you were engaged to Everand?”
It took her a moment to process what he’d asked, the words arousing some long-forgotten memory. It wasn’t that she hadn’t remembered she was engaged to Everand as a child, but even as a child, the words meant very little to her. As time passed and the idea of Everand still being alive faded, so did any thought of their betrothal and what it meant for Nymirian and Alvarian people.
“Didn’t seem as important as all of the other things that have been going on in the last eleven years.” She said with a shrug. “I’m not a princess anymore, Aziel. That betrothal…”
“You didn’t want it?” He inquired.
