Oran scoffed, focus shifting back to Nymiria. “She could have told me.”
“In my defense,” she began. “You were sleeping and you hadn’t slept indays. I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, it was a bit of a last minute decision. I was seduced by a demon and he lured me into the water.” She turned to Aziel as she spoke, eyes narrowing when she saw the smugness toying at the corner of his lips. “Blame Aziel if you’re going to blame anyone for me being rash. I wasn’t in my right mind.”
Though her response was genuine, it seemed to only rouse the beast inside him again, a slew of curses leaving his mouth. “I’ve been looking for you forweeks!” Oran yelled.
“I saidenough. Both of you shut it.” Aziel chimed. “It is my fault.”
Oran drew in a deep breath and actually looked at his brother. He hadn’t seen him in six months and would be lying to himself if he said that he hadn’t missed him a little. They’d spent every day of a decade together and his life had felt ratherdullwithout his vicious and murderous brother lurking around.
His body visibly deflated, his limbs growing heavy as he slid himself into a chair in front of Nymiria, his head falling forwards and resting in her lap. Aziel’s jaw ticked. “I’m sorry.” Oran whispered. “I just believed the worst had happened.”
Nymiria stared down at the back of Oran’s wet head, her brow pinched together and hands twitching with uncertainty of what to do. Slowly, hesitantly, she patted him on the shoulder. “It’s alright,” she sighed. “Now get off of me.”
He fell away from her, reclining into his chair. He spoke again behind his hands, slowly dragging them down his face. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He grumbled. “But I amnevertraveling anywhere with you again.”
She let out a soft chuckle, lowering herself down from the table top. “Likewise.”
Oran joined them for another drink, silence surrounding them save for the occasional questions Aziel would ask about Oran’s travels and the war. After an hour or so, when the tavern was full of soaked and weary travellers who had been caught in the tempest outside, the barkeep approached Aziel with a worried expression.
Nymiria only caught a piece of their hushed conversation—something about how the performer wouldn’t be able to make it for the evening due to the storm. Aziel didn’t lookdispleased,but he also didn’t look happy. For a moment, she believed he actually looked rather sheepish.Shy.
It was shocking. And as she watched Aziel nod and shift to his feet, that shock only seemed to grow. Because he was now plucking a worn and scratched guitar out from behind the bar and heading towards the corner of the room. She turned to Oran, her brow furrowed and lips parted. The prince, on the other hand, watched after his brother with a rather calm expression, as if none of this was new to him.
“Is he going to sing?” She whispered.
Oran glanced at her and nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “I’d assume so. You’ve never heard him?”
Nymiria was still tracking his movements when she shook her head, watching Aziel adjusting himself on the stool in the corner of the room. People had gathered eagerly, their curious eyes moving over him as he placed the guitar onto one of his thighs. His hands…
His gloves were gone. Hisscarswere gone.
Of course, she thought,he needed to be able to play.
Despite everything she believed she shouldn’t have felt, Nymiria couldn’t shake the mild jealousy she felt at people seeing him without his gloves, but also the growing sense of satisfaction that came with the fact that he’d hidden his scars. They were a secret, afterall. Very few people were allowed to see them.
“He used to sing in the theatre as a boy,” Oran continued quietly, the entire tavern hushing the moment Aziel began plucking at the strings of the instrument. “My mother believed that it would be good for him to have a hobby. I was neverallowedto go, but I found my way.”
As she watched him strum, as that beautiful melody filled the air, Nymiria had very little trouble imagining what he must have looked like on that stage. Him, a young boy still battling with thedeath of his mother, donning costumes and paints and personas to help him forget the unimaginable pain of her loss. She knew too well how addictive the idea of becoming someone else, if only for a moment or night, truly was. She’d performed in her own way foryears.
Her chin fell to the center of her palm, her heart thrumming dangerously the moment his voice lifted over the chords he played. And when Aziel’s eyes met hers, every hair on her body prickled in response. Heat rose to her cheeks, spreading quickly to each of her extremities as he sang. Line after line, chorus after chorus, her whole being seemed to catch fire.
Three songs had been played and while she wanted to believe she was being foolish, there was no other way to explain the way he looked at her—like each word he sang was a lament to her, specifically.
It was that final outro, sung by the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard in her life, that finally made her look away. Not out of embarrassment, but for the simple fact that she felt she would combust if she held his gaze for much longer.
“Intertwined,
Your soul and mine,
Dancing lifetimes pass before our eyes.
The feeling of splendor,
A taste of wine,
I’d drink every drop from your sacred vine.”
A cacophony of applause filled the tavern, her own hands mindlessly and weakly moving together in front of her. And though she still could not bring herself to look at him as he approached them again, Nymiria felt the heat radiating off him the moment he sat down. She could smell that strong, thick scent of whiskey, leather, and cherry blossoms—a smell that almost made her moan.
