“Dieve,” Nymiria began. “Do you know anything about the piercings mates receive when they accept their bond?”
The old woman was positioned by the window, her eyes heavy and red with tiredness. “Of course I do.” She huffed. “Why?”
“Do you know how to do them?”
The woman nodded. “Lay back down.” She abided, watching anxiously as Dieve came back to her with a needle and rag dripping with clear alcohol, her wrinkled face riddled with melancholy. “I used to do this for a lot of people, you know?” Dieve started, waiting as Nymiria lifted her skirts. She began cleaning her, preparing the skin for what was about to happen. Nymiria flinched at the coldness of the cloth, tears gathering in her eyes. “I had about one hundred people lay themselves on this very table, but there was always one that stood out to me. He was drunk out of his mind—sobbing because he felt so lost and alone. He said that he had a mate out there, somewhere, that he wasn’t sure who she was or where she could be, but… he said to me, and I’ll never forget it,‘I will love her. I know I will. And she will love me, too.’”
Nymiria choked out a sob, hands coming up to cover her face the moment the needle pierced her flesh.
I will love her. And she will love me, too.
I will love her. And she will love me, too.
I will love her.
I will love her.
And she will love me too.
Nymiria was able to walk through the front doors of her father’s palace without raising a single alarm. There was no one to be found, not even as she made her way up the stairs and walked back into the room she was to share with Everand.
He was still unmoved on the floor, snoring loudly when she walked in. Nymiria lifted him up and dragged him to the bed, throwing his body onto the mattress before stripping herself bare and sliding under the covers next to him. She didn’t have to pretend to fall asleep, her body was so exhausted from everything that happened that she fell asleep immediately.
When she awoke again, Everand was gone, having left a note on his pillow that read:
I don’t remember much. But I imagine it was wonderful, considering you’ve been sleeping for nearly a full day.
You looked beautiful in gold.
-Everand
Nymiria crumbled up the letter and tossed it across the room. She sat there for a moment, prodding at her power until she finally felt it stir in her core, and then slowly rose to her feet.
She felt no soreness between her legs, assuming that Everand hadn’t taken advantage of her in her sleep, and walked to the washroom. She paid careful attention to her hair, ensuring that certain strands were carefully secured at the nape of her neck to prevent Everand from seeing that his witchlock was now gone.
She didn’t have much time to carry out her plans, nor was she sure how well all of this would work considering Everand’s hold on the palace. He’d distorted everyone’s perceptions, deceived them into believing that Nymiria was some blushing bride who was more than willing to become the next queen of Alvaros, and it left her with very few options in terms of help.
The next portion of her plan involved Hilla, the only person she could trust aside from Dieve and Phyona at the moment, but both of them were out of the question. Phyona was far too crucial a person to risk and Dieve was far too old. Though the old bat was powerful and talented, Nymiria was not reckless enough to involve her in something so dangerous. Nymiria hadn't the time to ensure that Aziel would come back in time to help her, soshe'd made the tough decision of leaving Hilla with a message for the young god, hoping that everything would be relayed in a timely manner.
Tonight, she would seduce Everand again. And this time, she would be taking the children and her father with her. She hoped that the further from that palace they were, the less powerful Everand's charms would be.
Hilla had given Nymiria the herbs to aid her in making her own sleeping tincture, having made her repeat the steps over and over again until she remembered them by heart. She emptied the tin that Raina had given her of the tea and filled it with those herbs, glamouring them to look like lavender and chamomile.She’d been careful. Now she had to be cunning.Charming. Which was no problem at all, considering her talents.
Nymiria dressed herself in something she believed would please Everand and his bitch of a mother, even going so far as to decorate herself in gold and jewels that the prince seemed to like so much. The gown she’d chosen was that of a deep red—not a color that was usually worn in Eadyn, but one that was necessary at the moment. Her skin looked sickly in red. When she’d been in Yaar, she wore a glamour that made her skin sunkissed and brilliant enough to compliment the shade, but Nymiria decided against it. Even if appearance mattered to Everand, she wanted him to see how out of place she looked in his colors. She wanted him to see that she didn’t and would never belong.
She followed the sounds of chatter to the veranda, her whole body seizing when she saw Auritsa seductively running her finger along Thorn’s arm. He looked enamoured, that glossy sheen to his eyes that everyone in the palace seemed to carry.
Everand rose quickly from his chair the moment he noticed her, rushing to her side and taking her hand into his. “There you are,” he chuckled. “I was beginning to worry about you. Ithought, perhaps, I’d been too rough with you and left you in a terrible state.”
Nymiria’s cheeks reddened, her eyes moving around the courtyard. The children were playing. And when she spotted Raven standing amongst them, his eyes hard and his hands balled into fists, she felt her heart give a hard thump. “No,” she said quietly. “You weren’t too rough with me. I just—it’s been quite a while since…”
Everand patted her hand, smiling fondly as he reached up and tucked a stray hair behind her ear. “I understand. Women are so delicate.” The pad of his thumb skimmed over the ruby dangling from her ear. “Not many can handle me, petal. This just further proves how good of a match we are.”
She was doing everything possible to maintain this facade, but every moment spent in his presence was a test to her limits. She’d prided herself in her ability to survive, but Nymiria was tired of merely surviving. She was tired of pretending, tired of acting and playing a part. Every muscle in her body wanted to react accordingly, but her mind and her own inborn need to protect herself, would not let her.
Everand escorted her to the table that’d been set for them. By the spread that was prepared, she calculated that it was roughly midday. And though she was not particularly hungry for anything, she forced herself to eat. To pretend.
“You look rather exhausted, Nymiria.” Thorn said from across the table. Auritsa was still clinging to his arm, her fingers curling around a strand of his beard. “I assume you two have been enjoying yourselves?” He and Auritsa burst into a fit of laughter. Even Everand gave a few chuckles, shaking his head.
