Chapter 3 #2
Nymiria slid her way into the room, gliding around Hilla’s shocked form.
“Can you tell him something for me the next time you see him?” She asked, nose scrunching at all of the purple decor.
When her eyes caught the small notes of pink scattered around the room, she felt her heart soften.
Whether the detail was added by Desi, Trio, or by Aziel himself, it made her want to smile.
She sank her teeth into her cheek to keep the muscles from reacting.
“Tell him that I’m ready. For what he offered me on the ship. ”
“Tell him yourself.”
Nymiria whirled around, her brow furrowed and lips pressed into a thin line at the sound of his voice.
Hilla was gone and, in her place, Aziel stood there with his horns on full display.
His lips twitched into a smug grin, eyes roving over her less than presentable attire.
She was in rags compared to what he wore.
Though it was a simple black tunic with black breeches and boots to match, he still looked like royalty.
And there she was, covered from head to toe in muck and sweat, her hair matted and twisted around twigs and leaves.
She folded her arms in front of herself, as if it would stop him from seeing how she looked.
It didn’t, but he didn’t laugh. He didn’t even make a sarcastic remark about her state of being.
His eyes finally settled on her face. “Hello, moonflower.”
“Hello, demon.” She sneered, fighting against the sudden breathlessness that plagued her.
He let out something short of a laugh, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he took another step closer. “Welcome home.”
Nymiria braced herself, averting her eyes from the array of piercings that decorated his face and ears. They gleamed in the most tantalizing way possible, luring her thoughts to places far less modest. She sighed and gestured about the room. “Thank you for this. It is quite lovely.” She stated.
Aziel’s gaze followed hers. “It was no bother.” He stated simply, shrugging. “I figured you would like to be comfortable whenever you chose to return.”
Chose to return?
She scoffed, shooting him a sidelong look before she strode deeper into the room.
Her fingers trailed over the posts on the bed, allowing the tips to dip into each intricate design carved into the darkened wood.
The heat of his gaze followed her, the silence nearly deafening, an uncomfortable pressure at her ears.
She rounded the bed, plopping herself onto the mattress with a soft huff before finding the courage to look at him again.
“As I said, before you ran poor Hilla off with your terrifying presence, I would like to take you up on the offer you extended to me on the ship. I want to learn how to control… this.” She motioned towards the moonflowers along her skin.
When she looked at him again, she noted his rigidness, the smug look he wore beforehand, now nothing but an emotionless mask.
He gave a firm nod. “Of course.” He stated bluntly.
He took a step back towards the door, glancing around the room before extending his finger to an archway.
“That is your wash room. There is an armoire of clothing for you, as well.”
Did she smell that awful? Nymiria’s nose crinkled at the thought, suppressing the urge to sniff at herself as she rose to her feet and started towards the arch.
“Dinner will be served in an hour,” he continued.
Nymiria stood there, confused, as she listened to the sound of him retreating.
When the door to her room closed, she turned to look at the place where he once stood.
It was foolish, she knew, to hope that he’d still be standing there—that he would have teased her, reprimanded her, or said something.
Perhaps she’d forgotten that there was no use in trying to pinpoint Aziel Haze, his intentions, and the way his mind worked.
He was a complex man, just as she was a complex woman.
The more she focused on him and whatever it was that plagued his thoughts, the more she would forget why she’d decided to come back.
There was no use. It would only lead to ruin for both of them.
It did not take long for Nymiria to figure out the mechanics of the rose quartz basin in her washroom. It operated much like any other wash basin—just larger.
The room was much brighter than Aziel’s personal washroom, the pale pink walls giving way to a ceiling that was canopied by vines adorned with white blossoms. The strands cascaded down the six pillars that lined either side of the tub, one side of the room dedicated to a comfortable chase and footbench, as well as a large armoire she believed would house the clothes Aziel spoke of.
A large, silver-framed, dressing mirror hung on the wall.
Ornate, yet refined, with each corner swirling with a delicate filigree.
The other wall was lined with glass bottles and metal tins, each of them capped and labeled. Small pink crystal bottles containing body oils, clear bottles that held arrays of scented soaps.
Lavender, cardamom, petunia, posy, sage…
Nymiria took hold of the sage-scented soap, coupling it with a mint body oil that made her eyes flutter when she scented it.
Between each shelving system of bottles and tins was a vanity, another mirror positioned over top of it.
She paused at her reflection, studying her dirtied face and her hair, decorated in various scraps of foliage.
She sighed, placing her selections on the vanity before reaching for one of the silver brushes perched on the flattened surface.
She released her white tresses from the leather strap, groaning at the relief she felt when it fell around her shoulders.
Turning to the tub at the center of the room, Nymiria slipped the boots off of her feet, wincing as the leather brushed against the blisters on her ankles and the sides of her toes.
She kicked them away before ridding herself of the rest of her clothes and lifted the water pump at the foot of the tub.
In awe, she watched as the steaming water filled the basin.
No need for a heating apparatus to be placed underneath, it was the most amazing thing she’d experienced in years.
She grabbed the container of soap from the vanity, letting loose a few drops of it into the water until brilliant pink suds formed.
She smiled, willing herself forward and into the steam, sinking into the sage-scented waters and letting the warmth of it spread through her aching and weary muscles.
She soaked, scrubbed, rinsed, and soaked some more, only to repeat the process over again until her skin was red and pruned from her length of time spent in the comforting warmth.
Once dried, she hesitantly moved towards the armoire, fingers curling around the cotton drying cloth she’d secured under her arms.
How had Aziel been so sure that she would come back?
Nymiria wanted to believe that it was his smug confidence, the way he believed he could manipulate everything to bend to his will.
She wanted to believe that all of this was just a way of saying that he knew her better than she knew herself—and that nothing about it was romantic, but merely a threat.
Believing that was much better than the alternative…
That he’d prepared all of this for her based upon the single shred of hope that she would return.
Because, with that thought, came a thousand of others that would surely break her own heart.
She didn’t want to imagine that he’d provided all of this just in case.
She didn’t want to imagine that everything in this room had been hand-selected and curated with her interests at the forefront of his thoughts.
Worrying her lip, Nymiria opened the doors to the armoire. She let her fingers trail over the various cotton gowns, the blouses and breeches, before settling on one dress in particular—the dress she’d worn the night she helped him set a trap at a card game near the South Mists.
Her first reaction was to trace over the sheer, delicate fabric and she allowed herself to do so, remembering just how spectacular her body looked wrapped inside of it. Remembering his hands on her hip, the way he’d seemed all too eager to call her his wife.
At the sudden wave of grief that plagued her, Nymiria scoffed and shoved the dress aside, continuing her search through the articles of clothing until she landed on a tan blouse, spotted with tiny, pink embroidered flowers.
She dressed quickly, foregoing the thought of shoes, before walking out of the washroom.
She froze.
Dressed in dark leathers, her hair neatly braided, and a sword hanging from the belt slung around her hand-encased hips, stood Desiree.
“I hope that you’ve worked up an appetite on this little adventure of yours, because Dieve has been slaving all day over the meal that is waiting for us in the dining hall.
” Desi’s lips curved into a smile, her dark skin radiant in the final orange glows of the evening sunset.
Nymiria couldn’t stop the tears that sprang into her eyes, her body acting on impulse as she ran across the room and threw herself into her friend’s arms.
Laughing fondly, Desiree slowly pulled away from her just enough to brush the tears from her cheeks. “Why the hell are you crying?” She exclaimed.
Nymiria frowned, narrowing her eyes on the tears gathered at the corners of Desi’s eyes. “You hypocrite—look at yourself!”
Desi looked every bit of the soldier that she’d proclaimed she would one day become.
Six months ago, as they said their goodbyes, her friend had not failed to make it known what her intentions were in Eadyn.
She joined the army and dedicated her life to protecting the people that her brother and Aziel worked so hard to liberate.
Dorid’s forces had been circling around Eadyn, hovering Yaar’s Wander, just outside the Choking Vines, for months.
She’d had plenty of time to ponder why Aziel left him alive that day—why she’d left him alive that day.
But it seemed, even the gods themselves did not have all of the answers.
She wondered if this was just Aziel’s way of playing with his food, watching it squirm and writhe and fight in his trap until he was ready to devour it whole.
There was not much Nymiria could do to combat the way things had played out.
She’d been absolutely against the war and, yet, she spent the majority of her time traveling alone dodging battles and raids, barely sleeping.
She’d narrowly dodged two attempts at being recaptured, one of those instances leading her to Oran.
Oran…
Another bite of guilt.
When she jumped off of that ship and left him, there hadn’t been a day that passed without her wondering if he was alright. She shouldn’t have just abandoned him and to this day, she still wasn’t sure what compelled her to throw herself into the ocean.
That was a lie. She knew exactly why she did it, she just refused to admit she’d done something so irrational because of him.
She sighed, promising herself to only dwell on those thoughts when the world was quiet and she was alone. Desi did not deserve her grovelling. Nymiria was supposed to have found herself out there in the world—not return the same battered and broken woman she’d been before.
“Dieve has prepared a meal?” She asked, quickly averting the conversation.
Desi and Nymiria linked their arms as they walked out of the room and into the hall.
“Be it her intuitive nature or the fact that my brother is horrible in terms of keeping this sort of thing to himself, but she’d been determined that we were going to have an unexpected guest coming to stay with us. ”
Nymiria chuckled, unable to deny just how happy those words made her.
When she was out in the world alone, she often wondered what she would come home to.
She wondered if the people she left behind would be angry, or if they would understand whatever the hell she was feeling when she left.
She hoped they could sympathize with why she ran, why she insisted upon discovering what resided in her core.
She wondered if seeing them again would be as it was with Desi—full of emotion and warm embraces—or if they’d all ignore her. She wondered, and feared, that her last moments in Yaar would replay in her mind. That she’d be reminded of that woman that she’d killed in the throne room.
She wondered about her father.
Her brother.
“Thorn and Raven?” She asked.
Desi shrugged, giving her a soft smile. “Raven will be here tonight, but I’m afraid your father is meeting with some people from Alvaros. They’ve been in contact since the Liberation and have been wanting to form an alliance against Yaar.”
Nymiria’s heart fluttered. “Alvaros?” She nearly exclaimed. “They survived?”
Her friend nodded. “Based upon what I’ve heard, yes.”
The last Nymiria had heard of Alvaros, one of the largest Mystic kingdoms on the continent of Gaellagh, Dorid was proclaiming that every last member of the Alvaros bloodline had perished in one of his raids. She hadn’t seen the Alvaros family in over a decade.
Inasha was not known to be a graceful and kind queen, especially when it came to politics.
She’d been trying for years to obtain some of Alvaros’s forces.
They were known for the strength of their army, each young man within the kingdom being forced to undergo years of brutal and harsh training, and then being required to serve as soldiers for two years.
Battle was in their blood. They were vicious and strong and everything that Inasha believed she needed to ensure her kingdom’s safety.
The Alvaros family, after many years of debating, finally agreed to join forces with Nym.
But it came at a rather steep price.
Desi and Nymiria were already approaching the dining room, forcing Nymiria’s thoughts to shift away from memories that were better left forgotten.
There was no way to tell if anyone she knew from Alvaros had remembered her, if they had thought of her just as frequently as she’d thought of them since Dorid began ransacking Mystic kingdoms.
Nymiria let a deep breath of air fill her lungs, but it did nothing to quell the trembling of her fingers, nor did it cease the nagging feeling in her chest that she’d made a horrible mistake in coming back to this place.
Only when they approached the dining hall and Nymiria caught sight of Trio’s broad grin, did her heart seem to settle a fraction. Desi laced her fingers through Nymiria’s, both of them exchanging joyous glances before they darted through the hall to where Desi’s brother was now moving to his feet.