“I was able to render you unconscious for the procedure.” Oran continued, his tone quieted to a barely audible whisper. “Desi sent me with some tonics for your fever and infection, but you will still be in a significant amount of pain for a few days.” He reached into the pocket of his overcoat, producing two small vials of shit-colored liquid. Oran uncorked them and brought them to his brother’s lips, frowning as Aziel struggled to swallow. Once each vial was emptied and placed back into the safety of Oran’s coat, the young prince sighed. “My apologies may not mean much to you, brother, but I am terribly sorry for what you’ve had to endure.”
A steady warmth blanketed Aziel’s body, the shivers that plagued him turning to infrequent jerks and sporadic tremors. “I don’t want your fucking apology.” Aziel spat, teeth clenched as he forced himself into a seated position. “I want you to help me burn that fucking kingdom to the ground.” Oran took inthe pain that contorted Aziel’s features, eyes dropping to the scarred hands that were now open in places and bleeding.
The young prince said nothing. He just reached into his pocket again and then placed the contents on Aziel’s leg. His gaze fell, the anger and the pain dulling just a fraction when he saw a tin of salve from Hilla and his gloves resting there.
With that, Oran made him a promise—a silent vow that they both carried with them for the years to come.
“What was my mother talking about, Aziel?” Oran asked, quickly glancing ahead at where the coachmen sat on the bench at the front of the carriage. “She said that you were being disobedient–what did she mean?”
Aziel gripped the edge of the bench they were seated upon as the carriage barreled over the root of a tree, the movement causing pain to radiate through his groin and legs. The pain was enough to make him want to vomit. His other hand clutched at his stomach, wishing he could dig his fingers into his organs and rip them out. When he closed his eyes again, all he could see was the bright and beautiful smile bestowed upon him from a girl behind bars.
The vision soon replaced with the memory of how he’d found her—how her body had been beaten and bruised, ripped to pieces, branded, and the blood…
He shuddered. “She should have done worse.”
Oran blinked. “Worse thanthis?”
Yes.
Camalia–Inasha–should have found a way to kill him, instead. Because there was not an ounce of pain she could inflict that would make him turn back on the deal he’d made. She’d asked him if the deal he’d made was worth all of that trouble and while Aziel had a hard time believing that it was most days, it was the memory of Nymiria Celentas strung up and brutalized that solidified his answer.
Yes. It was worth it.
Aziel awoke to the distant sound of rain ticking against glass. His eyes fluttered open, the fingers splayed across the gnarled roots on his chest flexing before he rolled onto his side.The oily residue of his dream clung to his body, his movements feeling sluggish as he turned his head to the side.
A sea of black silk greeted him, his eyes homed in on the vacant place beside him. The vacant place where Nymiria had slept when she’d visited his home. He debated on reaching across that space and gripping the pillow that once cushioned her head and burying his face in the remnants of her scent. Instead, he forced himself out of the bed, lazily snatching at any article of clothing he could find on his journey to the washroom.
Once standing in front of the vanity, he saw himself doused in the gloom of the rainy day, his horns curled out into the air, his hair almost entirely black, he shivered. Because there, without a single glamour in use, he saw the three claw marks that stretched from his ear to his chin.
He’d never shown Nymiria those scars. It wasn’t to protect her from the truth, as neither of them were entirely aware of Camalia’s true identity, but because he hated them. He hated that that beast of a woman had left her mark on everything that was precious to him. His face, that looked so much like his mother’s, was now scarred horribly. His body, covered in the markings of the torment he’d endured at her hand. And Nymiria…
Nymiria.
He released a sharp puff of air through his nose, teeth grinding together as he stuffed his hands into his gloves.
Aziel was not sure what he needed to do in order to help her heal. He’d done copious amounts of breathing exercises and had learned to keep himself active in order to relieve the constantpanic in his chest. He’d worked on himself, had forgiven himself a thousand times over, but Nymiria was different.
He couldn’t take her pain away.
Everything that made her beautiful came from how deeply she felt things. Whether good or bad, she felt them with such intensity that he, himself, could almost taste the emotions that seeped from her pores. It was due to that fact that he hadn’t been able to take her feelings away all of those months ago, when she’d first asked him to. He saw that dead, lifeless look in her eyes and realized that taking her heart meant taking who she was, erasing the very essence of her being.
And despite what he believed she had become, he saw beauty in the way she looked at the world. Even when he believed he hated her.
Chapter 3
Finding decent sleep after a near-death experience was physically impossible.
Nymiria learned two important lessons in the last eight hours, one being that she didn’t like traveling through The Beyond drunk and the second being that she couldn’t kill wild animals. Even when they were starving and wanting to rip out her entrails and feast on them in the dead of night.
Just one look at the wide, frantic look in that beast’s eyes and her heart of stone liquefied.
As soon as the gloomy sky turned a bright grey and a mist of rain began to fall, Nymiria rose from her spot at the base of the tree, tucked her dagger away into her boot, and started back on her journey. She didn’t want to waste the daylight and she certainly didn’t want to loiter around and wait to see what other dangerous creatures were roaming those woods.
It wasn’t just her quarrel with the beast that kept her mind occupied, but also the swath of shadows that’d formed when shewas trying to escape the greedy claws of danger. She saw the gleam of silver eyes in that darkness. Watching her, trailing her every move.
She was no fool. She knew those eyes belonged to someone close to her. Whether it was Desi, Trio, or Aziel himself, it didn’t matter. Trio’s shadows had made themselves known long ago, having seemingly kept watch over her at random moments of each day. She’d grown quite used to them, even recognized the shift in energy when they appeared.
Was she foolish to wonder if those shadows followed her at his request? Was she supposed to be angry or feel some sort of satisfaction at that thought?
