Aziel straightened his suit coat, glancing back at where the hounds were now trying to manipulate Trio into petting them. “I hate to cut straight to business, but I am calling in that favor you owe me.”
Cyrus’s brow twitched together. “Are you certain?”
The god lifted his chin, casting the young necromancer a dark look that said more than words ever could. “Do your worst, friend.” And with that, the men parted ways. Quick, simple, and entirely too vague for Trio to even remotely understand what was happening. He followed Aziel out the door they’d entered, followed him back down the stone staircase and into the maw-like cavern.
Trio let out an impatient sigh, rubbing his hand over his brow before grabbing Aziel’s shoulder and jerking him to a stop. “I know that you are currently absorbed in a fit of rage, but can you—at the very least—tell me what all of this is about?”
Aziel’s eyes were clouded with fury, his smile deadly and proud. “They cannot kill an army that is not alive. Call off your men. Let the souls of the unjustly killed handle the rest.”
His friend straightened, realization slamming into him. “He’s the Necromancer.” He stated. “He’s going to raise the dead for you?”
“He owes me a favor.” And with that, Aziel turned and walked out of the large opening at the base of the mountain. They crossed back to where his sigil still glowed in the dark, brittlegrass mere paces away. When they were just outside of the circle, Aziel’s body froze. His hand curled into a fist, eyes going wide when he turned to face Trio.
“What is it?” Trio asked.
Aziel shook his head, wetting his lips as he glanced between the sigil and the entrance of the pits. “Dorid. His name is on the toll.”
Chapter 34
They removed her from the cell in the early hours of the day, just after the morning chimes sounded from the tolling tower at the center of Yaar. The guards beside her took hold of her arms as they escorted her up the slippery stone stairwell that led out of the dungeons. She winced at the light that streamed in through the arched windows of the hall they entered and she turned to her head to look at the wall lined with the different eras of Huntsmen uniforms. The first mannequin wore simple leathers, complete with holes and tears that’d probably come from a skirmish of some kind hundreds of years prior. Each era presented showed improvement in their design, stopping with the gilded armor Dorid’s men currently wore.
Nymiria nibbled at her lip, looking up at the guard to her left and hoping to see some sort of humanity in the eyes beneath that golden helm. The guard didn’t look at her. He stared straight ahead, fixed solely upon his task and their destination.
She’d traveled these halls enough to know where they were taking her by the time they reached the king’s hall. She wasn’t quite sure if she’d expected it to look any different after so many months away and couldn’t really tell if she was disappointed or relieved to find that it hadn’t.
Even so, fear coiled like a serpent around her stomach, her skin growing clammy the closer they got to the doors of Dorid’s study. The last time she’d been in that room, he’d discovered the moonflowers on her, the love-bites upon her neck that Aziel had placed there. He’d cut the dress from her body, leaving her utterly revealed and humiliated.
Aziel and Oran were not here to help her. They were not here to save her. She had no idea what waited for her beyond those doors—what sort of torture she would be forced to endure. Her lungs seized when they stepped into the room, her eyes quickly darting around in search of faces. The only face she saw was Dorid’s.
He was standing behind his desk, his hands clasped in front of him. Behind him, still, on the same shelf where it had always sat, was the crown of Nym. Its silver branches gleamed, despite the dreary light within the room. Just briefly, she wondered where that crown would be now if she’d killed Dorid when her mother asked her to. Would she have taken it for herself? Would she have, eventually, returned to Eadyn and given it to her father? Or would her mother still be living—would her mother, using Camalia Yaarborough’s face as a disguise, have invaded Eadyn, killed her father, and taken control of the kingdom she once betrayed?
There were so many questions—so many possibilities that Nymiria did not have the time to entertain. She’d spent months going over the ways things could have been different had she chosen a different path. It never mattered which path she thought of, they all ended in heartbreak.
“Nymiria.” Her eyes flickered from the crown to his face, a quick flash of memories entering her thoughts: his weight on top of her, the evil in his eyes as he forced her down onto Aziel’s bed. She sawhimwith his pants tangled around his ankles, surrounded in a puddle of his own blood, his manhood laying feet away from his crumpled form. She saw her mother smiling.
Though there was but a small trace of unusable power left inside of her, the rage she felt pulsing through her veins was enough to make her feel as if she could lunge across that room and rip his throat from his body. It made her feel as if she could finish the job she never had the nerve to finish before.
Instead, she allowed the guards to escort her to the chair in front of his desk. She let them shove her down into the cushion. She let them pull on her chains until she was only able to move her hands enough to fold them in her lap. Nymiria crossed her legs and lifted her chin. “Dorid.” She dipped her head just slightly, shoving the remnants of her fear away in order to show him that rage that burned inside of her.
He ran a bejeweled hand over his dark hair, the sides flecked with patches of silver. His deep blue eyes bore into her, one single corner of his mouth lifted. “Now,darling. You know I don’t take kindly to subjects who do not address me properly, but I suppose I will give you another chance. You see, Nymiria, despite what you may think of me, I have neverhatedyou. In fact, I loved you very much. I still love you. But I understand you would have reservations about me considering the nature of our last few interactions. I’d assume anyone would be angry for being treated that way. For that, I will apologize.” He came around to the front of the desk, leaning back against the dark wooden top. His legs were wedged into the small space between her and the desk, his eyes gleaming just as proudly as the jewels he wore on his fingers.
“It’s alright if you choose not to accept it at this moment, but you might want to reconsider when I offer you this deal.” Her head perked at this, one brow raising at the center. She said nothing, but silently urged for him to continue. Obviously pleased, his smile widened. “You and I both know that what Everand is requesting of you is absolutely abhorrent. I am a firm believer that marriage should be between two willing participants. If not, it just causes a slew of unwanted resentment.” He watched her fidget. “You and Oran are very good friends, Nymiria. And I know you are hiding him somewhere. If you return my heir to me, I will allow you to marry Oran. He won’t mind it, I’m sure.”
The absurdity of his request made her want to laugh in his face, but she remained without emotion. When she still did not speak, the king released a sigh and shoved himself off of the desk, taking to wandering around the room as he usually did. “And just as long as you produce an heir with Oran, I will see to it that you are permitted to see Aziel whenever you wish.” He trailed his finger along a shelf of dust-ridden books, leaving a thick line cutting through the grime.
“And what of Everand?” She asked, finally. “Are you prepared enough for this sort of betrayal?”
Dorid’s eyes met hers again. “Darling,” he tisked. “Have you forgottenwho you are?” He approached her again and though Nymiria wanted so badly to jerk away from him, she allowed Dorid to take her face into his hands. “You cankill him.” She opened her mouth to protest, to tell him of the runes on her skin, but Dorid was already shaking his head in objection. “Don’t worry about those witchlocks . We will have them removed as soon as you agree. And if you know what is good for you, you will.” She did not miss the threatening edge to his tone, nor the way his features hardened when he stroked her cheek.
“Oran is in love with Fiernan,” it wasn’t a very strong defense. It did not matter if Oran loved Fiernan more than life itself. If presented with this ultimatum, he would agree to it without an ounce of hesitation. He was her guardian, her loyal follower; there was no possibility in which he would allow her to marry Everand when an option like this was on the table.
“He will survive, just as we all have, in terms of duty.” Dorid shrugged. “I did not necessarily love Oran’s mother when I married her, but we had a friendship. She cared about me enough to allow me to keep Lilith.”
The sound of Aziel’s mother’s name on his lips made her still. Nymiria had never heard him speak it before, had never heard him refer to her at all. There was a possibility that he’d become quite reminiscent since he lost his manhood, thinking back more and more to his younger years when he’d been able to use it properly. In less dire circumstances, Nymiria might have laughed at the thought. Aziel cutting off his own father’s cock and forcing him to live without it was probably the most poetic form of justice she’d ever heard. “And did you love Lilith?” She asked.
His eyes rounded, filling with an odd mix of fear and shame. It was astonishing, really. Perhaps he’d never been asked that question before. “I loved her very much, actually. More than what would be considered healthy.” He looked away from her then, his eyes focusing on the window. “If she had just—”
“Just,what?” Nymiria snapped. “If she’d just gotten rid of Aziel? If she’d just sat around and waited for you until death?” The guards behind her jerked on her chains, reminding her that they were there. But Nymiria didn’t care. She was well aware of her station—they couldn’t kill her. And if torture was all that they could do, well she waswellaccustomed to the feeling of it by now. “She loved you. Shelovedyou. She loved you enough to give you ason. A son that has every single quality in him that youloved in her and you did everything within your power to try and snuff it out of him, to killherall over again!”
