He didn’t know what to say to her. Perhaps his silence was necessary. He didn’t need to say anything to comfort her, not when she just needed someone to listen. Aziel let his hand move from her face to the base of her neck. The silken texture of her hair caressed the raised flesh on his hands, the harsh lines and ridges that he’d ruined. Unable to stop himself, his fingers plunged into her hair, toying with the white strands—combing through them, twirling them around his fingers until Nymiria’s eyes began to get heavy again.
“I came back here wanting to hate you,” Her words slurred with sleep, her eyes drooping. “But I really missed being your friend.”
Aziel was still sleeping soundly by the time she awoke in the morning. His back was turned to her, his arms tucked around himself. Nymiria had seen him with no traceable emotion on his face. He always seemed to have a thousand different thoughts and emotions underneath that impassive mask he always wore,always looking conflicted and torn. She’d never seen him look so at peace.
Careful not to wake him, Nymiria slowly slid out of the bed and tiptoed across the floor and into the washroom. She washed her face and brushed her hair as quietly as possible before walking towards the balcony.
“There’s really no use in sneaking about,” Aziel called from the edge of the bed. “I’d suggest you go get dressed so that you can meet with Everand.”
Nymiria sighed and turned on her heel, heading back in the direction from which she came. She stopped in front of him, watching as he pulled a boot onto his foot. “He hasn’t said anything about you or the war. Do you think this is still necessary?”
He pretended to think, lips quirking into a smug grin. “Yes, actually, Ido. If he’s going to tell anyone anything, it would most definitely be you.”
“Men like Everand don’t talk to women about war. They like to paint a pretty picture for them because they believe that we are too fragile to handle something so gruesome.” She walked over to the settee and plopped down with a huff, her white cotton nightgown poofing out around her knees. “If he’s anything like his father, they don’t believe in including women in war discussions.”
Aziel reached for his suit coat. “All I need is for him to admit that he doesn’t trust us, that this alliance is conditional.”
Nymiria grumbled under her breath. “Conditional in what way?”
“Well,” he started. “Your father didn’t mention it for good reason, but Everand suggested that your betrothal be reinstated to seal the alliance. Thorn believed that it was absurd and said that you were not a bargaining chip. After that, the Eadynitearmy was ambushed in Gillian—the very place where Everand said he believed we could easily invade.”
While it did seem rather suspicious, Nymiria wanted to hold on to the belief that Everand was a better man than that. Of course, his father did not have a very strong view of women, other than allowing them to make their own choices, but Everand always seemed so determined to be nothing like his father. “It could be a coincidence.”
With his suit jacket still slung over his forearm, Aziel began walking towards the door. “Yes, it very well could be mere happenstance, but the timing is peculiar.”
“You said something to him, didn’t you?” She chuckled, trailing along behind him. “That’s what Trio meant about your…competition?”
Aziel didn’t have to look at her for her to know that his eyes had gone steely. His stride became more mechanical, the muscles in his back going taut. “Personal matters should not have any influence over political decisions.” She rolled her eyes as they stepped out into the hall.
“I agree,” she nodded. He looked at her then, eyes flickering over her face in such a way that made her flinch. “Why are you looking at me like that?” She asked.
“Does his request not bother you?” He continued walking, removing his gloves from his pockets and slipping his hands inside without so much as a glance. Like putting them on had become such a habit that it was as easy as blinking.
Instead of walking towards the staircase, Aziel continued straight. “Not particularly. I do find it quite ridiculous that a deal made nearly sixteen years ago is still lingering in his mind, considering all that has happened. But his parents were rather pushy in terms of the engagement. They wanted us to wed one another when we were sixteen.” She shivered at the thought, hating to think that it was a relief that it never happened. “Theywanted us to birth an heir within the first year of marriage. Could you imagine that?”
“And that didn’t terrify you?”
They continued towards the western wing of the palace, where her rooms were located. “Of course it terrified me. I was achildwhen they were having these discussions. They kept Everand and I as close to one another as possible, hoping that it would help us becomefamiliarwith one another. I even overheard his mother wishing that we would becomecuriouswith each other’s bodies, as if an accidental pregnancy could solidify a decision that’d already been made for me.” She cringed. Not that Everand had ever been ugly, but she’d never seen him as more than a companion. A good friend.
She could see the discomfort in his face, the low set of his brow, the way his hand curled around the leather it was encased in. She wasn’t making things any better for either of them by telling him that. It only made his anger worse. “I might not need you as a spy, afterall.” He said menacingly.
Nymiria felt that heat again—the kind that was dangerous. It crept up her neck and settled in the lobes of her ears. “What are you going to do—kill them?”
“Yes.”
No hesitation. Not a single drop of remorse.
“Aziel, my father needs this alliance.” She soothed her tone in an attempt to placate him, but the damage had already been done. “If they continue the Alvarian tradition, Everand should be eligible to take the throne within the next few years. I’m sure that he already has his father’s ear and—”
“What if Everand’s mouth and his father’s ear are attached to people who have the very same agenda? I do not mean this in a bad way, but what would a man of Everand’s title want with a woman who has refused to reclaim her crown? It certainly isn’t the union of two bloodlines or two kingdoms.” A noise drewhis attention to the other end of the hall, both of them peering behind them to see Oran emerging from his room. Aziel looked back at her, lowering his voice even more. “Perhaps I am the one that is paranoid, but I believe his family suspects that you havegreat power. Some Fae courts have been known to want strong bloodlines.Powerfulones. And not just in number or in unity—they want these powers to instill fear in their subjects.”
Nymiria was very much aware of this and Azielwascorrect. She remembered Everand’s parents wanting to visit a seer before their wedding, but Inasha and Thorn refused. Considering the secret they had been harboring about her godhood, she now understood why.
She didn’t have long to ponder on the conclusion of their conversation because Oran was approaching quickly. He’d bathed since the night he arrived in Eadyn, going so far as to have shaved and trimmed his hair. He looked relatively back to normal, save for the dark circles under his eyes. Aziel seemed to notice them, just as she had. They both frowned at him.
“Don’t look so happy to see me.” He grumbled sardonically.
Aziel smiled. “Have you been sleeping at all?” He hummed.
