Oran shook his head and ruffled his hair, still damp from the wash. “I don’t want to be here, Aziel. This is a lovely home you have here, but it is still too close to that bastard across the Divide. My skin is crawling just thinking that he could—”
“He won’t be able to get to you here.” Aziel interjected. “If he attempted it, he’d be a fool.”
Oran blinked at him, folding his burly arms across his chest. “Then why start a war if you suspect he doesn’t have the courage to do it?”
They stared at one another, Aziel’s features seemingly telling Oran something that Nymiria could not decipher. Oran seemed to understand, his muscles relaxing. “I suppose I should get familiar with this place, then. I might be spending more timehere than I would have liked to think. Fiernan is probably horribly mad that I didn’t show up at the palace.” He started to turn away, but Nymiria gasped, causing him to jump and look back at her.
“You didn’ttellher?” She yelled. “Oran, quills and parchment exist for areason. You could have written her, at the very least.”
“Quills and parchment?” He scoffed. “You think that writing her a letter would have made any of this better?” Aziel and Nymiria exchanged looks, before a giant “yes” came from their lips. Oran flinched at the sound of it, his hard face going soft when he looked at his brother. “You wouldn’t happen to have a quill and parchment that I could borrow, would you?”
Chapter 15
For the next three weeks, everything resumed to how it’d originally intended to be. Nymiria woke in the mornings, met with Everand for breakfast and walked around her father’s courtyard. Eventually, Thorn allowed them to leave the palace grounds. She took Everand into the market, showing him the different store fronts and stalls, they even frequented a few of the coffeeshops and tea houses instead of taking their morning meals at the palace.
Everand seemed rather pleased with everything that he saw and would make comments about the beauty of Eadyn, how he couldn’t believe that anything could have ever been more beautiful than Nym, but was proven wrong. Day after day, their meetings were filled with conversations that were of no significance to Nymiria’s purpose, but she enjoyed going out and creating a sense of normalcy. Even if it was all a lie.
At noon, she would return to Aziel and relay their interactions before he took her out into the forest and showed her whereeach God Stone was located. He had her studying the runes, memorizing them until they became all she could think about. Her time of leisure was spent doodling maps and runes, her brain a hive of seemingly useless information.
Phyona would meet with them often at the God Stones and would try to teach Nymiria how to use the runes with her magic. It proved to be pointless, but Aziel and Phyona did not quit. Nymiria could feel her power, she could recognize it and pull on it, but there was always something that kept it from rising to the surface. The blockade between her mind and her core was proving to be the biggest obstacle they had—no amount of practice or coercion tactics made her powers arise.
Eventually, they would all simply sit and stare at one another in a confused silence before they went about their own business. Aziel would disappear until the late hours of the night, sometimes not returning until the sun was close to rising. Nymiria would walk the market alone, interacting with vendors and civilians before going into the communal gardens to look at the plants.
She would read well into the night, until her eyes were too heavy to stay open, and would usually fall asleep with a book on her lap. Every morning, though, she woke up in Aziel’s bed, the sheets tucked perfectly around her body and her book sitting upon the nightstand. She mentioned nothing of it when she saw him later in the day, would pretend that it was not Aziel’s doing, but rather her own and that her sleep-addled brain simply could not remember having done it.
Sharing a room with Aziel was not as difficult or confusing as she thought it would be. They respected one another’s privacy, but it was also hard to invade someone’s personal space when they hardly were in the room with one another for more than a few hours at night.
Her night terrors hadn’t returned.
“Allow me to purchase you a gift,” Everand’s voice broke into her thoughts, her eyes blinking rapidly as she pulled herself back to the present. Nymiria looked up at him, forcing a bashful smile onto her face.
“That won’t be necessary, I have everything I could ever need. I do appreciate the gesture, Everand, but—”
He shook his head, his golden curls radiant in the morning sun. “Nonsense, Nymiria. As I recall, your birthday is within a few days. You deserve a gift.”
Her birthday. She’d forgotten.
For ten years, she’d hardly had anyone celebrate her birthday. Dorid would only remember when it was convenient for him, only bestowing gifts upon her when she’d been doing well with her tasks. If she’d disappointed him in any way, her birthdays were usually spent in the quiet comfort of her rooms, alone.
Everand looked down at her, still awaiting a response. Nymiria just shook her head. “I…”
Before she could vehemently refuse, Everand was grabbing her hand and tugging her towards one of the various boutiques in the market. Nymiria’s eyes widened when they stepped inside, her mouth falling open when she took in the selection.
She shouldn’t have been so astonished, for she knew that Mystics were gifted and could bring life to almost anything they wished. There were brilliant dresses of every color, some of them made from gems and crystals, some wove from blades of grass. There were dresses of pure spider silk, shimmering silver and wet with dew. Hair ornaments had always been popular amongst Mystics, both men and women taking pride in the beads and decorative pieces they wove into their hair or slipped into their braids.
Her fingers traced over a set of earrings—drops of water dangling from intricately strung silver chains. She let out a joyous chuckle and turned to Everand. “Have you seen these?”She lifted the earrings in between them, jingling them back and forth, but the water droplets did not fall. “This is incredible.”
“Do they have them in gold?” He asked with a smile.
Nymiria looked down at them, frowning slightly. “Gold wouldn’t go well with something like this.”
“Gold goes well with everything.” Everand let out a laugh, but instead of finding amusement with him, Nymiria’s skin started to turn clammy.
“Gold goes well with everything.” Dorid smiled as he clasped the choker around her neck. Nymiria flinched at the feeling of the tiny golden thorns digging into her skin. His fingers brushed over her shoulders, pausing when he reached the splatter of silver spots. He clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Wear something that will cover this tonight.” His fingers were harsher now, digging roughly into her skin. “If only we could make them go away.”
Everand was stepping closer to her now, concern pulling at his features. “Are you alright? You’re pale.”
Nymiria looked down at the earrings and nodded, turning and slowly placing them back onto the table. Her mind swam with the purpose of them meeting, the reason she was here. “Everand, can I ask you something?”
