Confusion took hold of his face. There was no mistaking that crease in his brow. “What are you talking about?”
“The barkeep. You seem to know quite a few of them. Have hadtrystswith quite a few of them as well, as I recall.”
“Really? Like who?”
Nymiria’s lip curled in disgust. “Siobhan.”
“That’s only one person.” She scoffed at that, closing her eyes so she didn’t have to look at him anymore. “I love seeing you jealous.”
“I’mnotjealoussss.” Her eyes snapped open in horror. “I’m just making an obssservation.”
“It’s hard to believe you can still observe anything with how drunk you are.” He chuckled.
“It’s my birthday.” She grumbled. “Let me be.”
He hummed in response, silence falling between them. When he threw back his drink and placed the empty glass onto the counter, Nymiria looked down at the breast pocket of his jacket, her heart rate spiking at the sight of that white flower that still rested there.
A part of her wanted to ask about Ilona, wanted to tell him what happened, and what was said, but speaking a single word of it could only make her feel worse. She had no way of repaying Ilona for her debts, for her refusal to acknowledge that one of her own had been held captive under Dorid’s hand, and even if she offered some sort of an apology there was a high chance that the woman would refuse it. Atonement was a peculiar thing—only achievable if the other party was accepting of it. But Ilona’s scars ran too deep. Even if Nymiria had scars of her own, she was not deep enough into her self-sabotage to start comparing them in order to justify herself.
“It happened.” She whispered. “Someone finally said something to me about Yaar.”
Aziel looked stunned, as if he hadn’t expected for her to speak again. “Who?”
She shrugged. “Not important. Trust me, they should have done worse.” She groaned as she lifted her head off of the counter, the entire room swirling around her. He looked at her with an expression that rivaled anger—towards what, she wasn’t sure.
There were not many things that made sense at the moment.
“When I first found you,” he began. “You said something similar to me. And for the life of me, Nymiria, I couldn’tunderstand how someone so battered and broken could have said something like that. You bore the wounds of your people’s torture, and you told me that they should have done worse.”
“What does that have to do with anything?” She almost whined.
“Because the situation hasn’t changed, Moonflower.” Though the words were delivered with a certain edge to them, Nymiria could see in his eyes the emotions that flowed through them, the worry and the care that both of them had difficulty expressing. “I don’t speak much about my godhood to you, but if this could offer any ounce of consolation, then I will tell you—people like you aren’t punished for their crimes in the Otherworld. I deal withmonsters. Monsters who genuinely deserve the punishments they receive. I’ve never had to torture anyone who was just trying to survive.” He observed her as if waiting for her to respond or refuse his kindness altogether. It never came. And for a moment, she grew so still that he believed she was ignoring him.
She had been told plenty of times what she should and should not feel. He’d berated her for feeling guilty, but knew just as deeply that guilt was necessary for true forgiveness. Nymiria hadn’t become the guilt she felt. She was attempting to move past it, but healing was not a steady incline. It was a battle within itself—it was a war. It was a mountainous terrain with jagged slopes and steep climbs. It was noteasy.
One minor incident was the equivalent to a near-death fall. His only consolation that she’d survived was the small smile she gave him when placing her hand over his own—the small squeeze she gave it before she finally looked away.
The barkeep made another round, but Aziel declined, tilting his head towards loud laughter. Nymiria followed the sound to a booth of rowdy men, all of them seemingly fae, who were attempting to attract the pretty barkeep’s attention. She brushedthem off with grace, shaking her head as she continued about her work.
It wasn’t until one of the men approached the bar that Aziel’s back straightened, his senses sharpening.
“C’mon, darling, we just want to have a little fun.” The man droned, swaying as he followed her.
“And I’ve told you three times already that I am a happily married woman who has no interest in taking another partner.” She glanced at their table. “Ormultiple, for that matter. Now, if you have nothing else to say, then I will kindly—”
The man gripped the barkeep’s arm. And though she didn’t react, merely rolled her eyes, Aziel was already on his feet. The drunkard turned his attention to the god, giving a sloppy laugh as he sized him up. The man was broader than Aziel, but stood roughly three inches shorter. Giant to Nymiria, but nothing compared to Aziel.
“I’d suggest that you take your leave, sir.” Aziel said, his tone smooth and calm.
“This doesn’t concern you.”
“On the contrary,” Aziel rounded the bar, placing himself in between the man and the barkeep. “As one of the owners of this establishment, itdoesconcern me. And one thing I will not do is sit around and watch men that cannot hold their drinks make fools of themselves and harass my staff.”
The large man snorted, rolling his eyes. “Y’aint nothing but a twig, boy. I don’t care if you own the place or not, ‘specially when you look like that.”
Nymiria’s brow crumpled, her own anger rising to the surface. She could feel her power reacting, seemingly summoned by the emotion. She slowly stood from her stool, hands bracing her hips as she watched the interaction. By this point, the barkeep had made her way to Nymiria’s side, huddling close to her.
“Looks can be very deceiving.” Aziel flashed his teeth at the man, his incisors shining like sharp blades in the aura light.
