Hate was not a strong enough word for what she felt for her mother.
She drew in a slow breath, holding it for a moment as she continued down the hill, doing her best to keep her footing on the wet leaves down below. Slipping and sliding, she finally reached the creek.
Nymiria emptied what little absinthe remained in the bottle she held and lowered it into the stream, letting the water curl into the rounded lip and fill it. She rinsed it out first, ensuring that there would not even be a single remaining scent of the drink, before she filled it a final time and brought the bottle to her lips.
Heavenly.
That was how it tasted. She’d been panting and sweating for three hours, and still had many hours to go before she would reach Eadyn, so she took that moment to sit down and rest.
Kicking off her shoes, Nymiria lowered herself onto the steep bank of the stream, letting her feet dangle into the cold, whispering current.
“Are you in a better mood?”Owen asked, his form rousing from a white mist at her side.
Nymiria shrugged, taking another long drag of the water. “For now. I think I am just…” She didn’t know how to describe it. Months ago, she’d been set on venturing out into the world, finding herself, and escaping the nightmares of her reality. But Aziel ruined it all. He’d swooped in, as he always did, and made her go against everything she thought she believed about herself.
“Just… what?”Her ghost pressed.
“I’m embarrassed, in a way.” She breathed a sigh of relief at the words escaping her mouth, eyes drifting to her dirtied nails and stained clothing. She hadn’t bathed in weeks. The few nights she’d stayed in the inn, she hadn’t had the bravery to attempt using the shared baths. Not because she believed the other occupants to be too dirty, but because the first night she’d attempted, a couple deep in the throes of passion had accosted her and groped her. She killed them by accident—her thorned vines seemingly having a mind of their own when they’d ripped through the flesh of that couple, leaving gaping holes in their chests where their hearts were once beating rapidly with desire.
Hiding the bodies required help from a shadow friend that swore on his life he wouldn’t tell Aziel where she was or what had happened. Did she make a good decision in whispering to the shadows to summon him? Yes. Did she believe him when he promised he wouldn’t tell Aziel a thing?Gods, no. Trio couldn’t keep a secret, even if it meant saving his life. Especially where Aziel was concerned. Nonetheless, she was thankful towards her shadowy friend.
She hadn’t attempted bathing since then. Only using the basin on the vanity in her room and washing cloth to cleanse what dirt she could from her person before slinking into bed every night.
Her embarrassment did not stem from all that she’d been through, but from the sole fact that she was tired of running. All of her determination, all of her fight for freedom and independence from the identity that haunted her, it’d led nowhere. It left her with too many questions, too many nights spent crying herself to sleep because she missed beingknownby someone—missed having someone to talk to who wasn’t dead.
And, of course, there were the prayers she’d been hearing.
“There is nothing wrong with going back home, Nymiria.”Owen’s voice was soft, no longer laced with the same amusement as before.
She glanced at him with a half-smile, rolling her eyes at herself. “I always told you that it wasn’t the thought of going home that scared me—it was the memories that came with it.”
“Those people are gone now. The people that hurt you, the people that abandoned you, yourmother… they aren’t there anymore.”
That was what Owen never seemed to understand. Because while those people did not exist in body, they existed in her memories. They existed in the parts of her that she still hadn’t learned to love. She struggled with her mistakes. She struggled to believe that the pain she felt in being away from those she loved was not deserved.
As if seeing the direction in which her thoughts were travelling, Owen released a frustrated grunt and rose to his feet.“That’s enough of that.”He made a beckoning motion with his hands, urging her to get up.“Let’s go. The more you sit here feeling sorry for yourself, the more time you waste. Do something useful with that pain.”
She squinted against the rays of the sun as she looked up at him, lips a tight line. “Someone is taking their job as a nanny very seriously.” She grumbled. Still, even in her ire, she lifted herself off of the ground and followed his misty form furtherdown the stream. “You know, I’m beginning to think what my life would be like if you’d gone to your grave hating me. That’s the usual reaction, you know? Tohatethe person that killed you.”
“Aye, it is.”He glanced over his shoulder at her, but did not stop walking.“Alas, I find myself falling more and more in love with you every time I remember what you did to me.”
Nymiria rolled her eyes. “I hate that, too. That my violence does not illicit the desired effect on people.”
Owen laughed aloud and, for a moment, Nymiria believed the sound could be heard echoing through the forest. Despite everything, she smiled too.“Perhaps, one day, I will love you so much that it eventually turns to hatred.”His features became more rigid, like just proposing the idea brought him pain.“You were never mine to keep, Nymiria. I will come to terms with that eventually.”
She opened her mouth to speak, to say something that could comfort the mournful soul in front of her, but there was nothing. Owen had always been a firm believer in the gods—in fate, especially. And while he’d loved her fiercely during their time together, every conversation about a future together never went the way she wanted.
He’d always said that—that she was not his to keep.
At first, she believed it was because of their stations in Yaar that he said those things. Now, knowing whatheknew, she could feel nothing but a deep sadness that she could not heal for either of them.
Owen had known about Aziel, had known that he was her mate. Not because Aziel had told him, but because Owen had his own suspicions about who she was and what her ties to Aziel truly meant. He’d known that Nymiria was to be the next Goddess of Life and he’d known, given his close relationship with the bastard prince of Yaar, that Aziel was the God of Death.
Perhaps she’d never been Owen’s to keep, but she wished that there was someone who could have been his. He deserved that much.
“Stop moping.”
Nymiria groaned loudly, throwing her hands up into the air in exasperation. “You are the most annoying travel companion I’ve ever had. At least Oran would allow me to whine a little.”
