“Aziel!”The voice called again, a soft and melodic voice that he would recognize, even in death. His pulse hammered, the sound of that voice compelling him forward. Closer and closer until he was staring up at a broad, looming figure at the top of those stairs.
He frowned, confusion blurring his thoughts, every bit of his senses obscured. “Gorford?” He called weakly.
“Come closer to see.” Nymiria’s voice replied.
Aziel’s mind blinked in and out of consciousness, splinters of thoughts and warnings filtering in through those dark cracks. He paused, pressing at the stabbing pain that shot through his temple. He saw flashes of reality—the figure at the top of the stairs flickering between the form of a woman and the form of a beast.
Every muscle in his body seemed to protest him moving forward, but Aziel fought against it. He took to the stairs, each step feeling as if it required every ounce of strength to perform, until he stood face to face with something horrid. Its pale skin was slick with oils, yellow eyes staring back at him. Sharp, rotting teeth were revealed when its mouth pulled back into a hateful grin.
“You are weak.” Aziel rasped, smirking. “Whatever fool it was that sent you, sent you here with a deathwish.”
The mimic laughed. “My master sent me with only one assignment. What is done to me afterwards is purely based upon what the gods see fit.”
Peculiar that the creature was so faithful. Aziel tilted his head to the side, observing the fresh sigil seared into the beast’s neck. “And who is yourmaster?” He asked. “I don’t believe I have seen these runes before.”
He would have reacted. A part of him wanted to snuff the light from the creature’s eyes, but those eyes were shifting too much. So much that it felt as if his brain were buzzing, his thoughts and his grip on reality waning. Nymiria’s face winked in and out of view, but the features were all wrong. Her nose was too small, too sharp, and too pointed. Her eyes were slightly too large and close together. Even her hair was not quite the right shade of silver. The realization set in too late. When Aziel was finally able to draw the conclusion of what had happened, the Mimic was already placing a large, gnarled hand upon Aziel’s chest.
He watched as the sigil glowed a golden hue, its magic seeping through his clothing and melting into his skin. “You have seen these runes everywhere,” the mimic whispered, its saccharine breath rousing the contents of Aziel’s stomach. “But you are blind to them—as are most who are unfamiliar with my master’s greatness.”
Blood. Mimics used blood to obtain the forms that they took. Aziel’s rage, that small flickering thing, exploded inside of him, his hand shooting out and grabbing the Mimic’s throat with such force that he felt it crush under his grip.
If that creature was able to mimic Nymiria…
Someone made her bleed.
It was the last thought that he had that was his own.
The door slammed closed, leaving Aziel at the center of the room while Thorn and Everand looked on at him. It felt odd to him how the roles had been so quickly reversed. Merely weeks before, it had beenhimsitting at Thorn’s side. No sooner than the thought entered his mind, did it dissipate. He felt his thoughts wilt—a piece of him lingering inside of his mind trying desperately to grasp onto autonomy. Ontocontrol.
Aziel stared straight ahead. Thoughtless. Sightless.Enthralledand bewitched.He hardly had the strength to wonder how he'd gotten to the palace or remember what happened to him. His consciousness seemed to fade in and out, like his thoughts were at one with the tide—constantly moving within and out of reach.
“You were quite difficult to commandeer, Mr. Haze.” Everand walked towards him with a powerful stride. One filled with pride. The rings on his fingers gleamed in the morning light. Something about them made his chest tighten. “I’ve been working at getting you under control for weeks now.”
When his knees struck the floor, pain radiated through his thighs and into his hips. But Aziel’s face remained impassive. Even as the prince of Alvaros came to a stop in front of him, his hand extended in Aziel’s direction.
“Kiss it.”Everand commanded. “You want to be worthy of my favor, Aziel. Youwantme to forgive you for trying to take claim over what is rightfully mine.”
Everything inside of him screamed for release. The anger, the urge to kill—he could feel it, but nothing came to the surface. He felt as if his soul, his conscience, and every ounce of control he possessed was locked in some sort of cell. A dark cavern within his own mind, forced to watch himself become nothing but a vessel for Everand’s entertainment.
The bloodlust within that cavern in his mind smelled of rotted flesh and fire, his stomach churning with disgust as he leaned forward and placed a kiss upon the ornate golden ring thatrested on his middle finger. The filigree around the glimmering ruby was in the shape of a sun, nestled between two crescent moons of similar design.
Aziel stared at it, eyes narrowing.
He’d seen that ring before. But not on the hand of Everand Alvaros.That ring had belonged toDorid.
“Good boy.” Everand smirked, patting the top of Aziel’s head before turning to Thorn. “You said that he was dangerous, Thorn. He looks pretty docile to me. Rather harmless. I find it surprisingly underwhelming just how obedient he is being.”
The king stared at Aziel, a mixture of fear and magic clouding his eyes. “Yes. Underwhelming.”
Everand let out a laugh as he stretched himself across the chaise on the far side of the room, leaving Aziel on his knees. “Perhaps I should have tested my theory on using Nymiria against you sooner, but you never know which stories are myth and factual in a place such as this.Mates.” His final word came out with such disgust, one would believe he’d tasted shit. “Corebounds, is what they call the likes of you where I am from. And based upon what was detailed to me, it all seemed like a load of nonsense. Still does, if we’re all being frank with one another.” He crossed one thick leg over the other, joined hands resting behind his head.
There was a screaming in Aziel’s mind, in the pits of that cavern he’d been sequestered to. His spirit raged inside of him, pounding upon the bars of his cage, ripping stones from the walls.
“The storytellers back home believe that mates can sense when their other half is in danger.” Everand was now observing his finger, picking at his nails as if there were dirt underneath them. From where Aziel knelt, they were just as clean and gleaming as his ridiculous rings. “But you didn’t hear her screaming for you last night, did you?”
His hands were trembling, the screams in his head growing louder. He felt them growing—spreading through his chest like a raging storm.
This is herhome.She was supposed to be safe here.
