Chapter 10
Aziel looked between the two of them, his brow drawing to the center when Nymiria flung herself from the bar and began running in the opposite direction of him.
The hulking mass of a man that smelled more like a wet dog than a human was across the room in seconds, snatching her up and tossing her over his shoulder.
She tried shoving away from him, tried twisting and squirming her way out of his grasp, but the man was too strong and too furious to loosen his hold against her struggle.
He plopped her down onto a table, a grunt rattling from her lungs as she looked up at him with a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry.”
“Shut it.” Oran snapped, jabbing her in the center of the chest with the same finger he’d pointed at her in the entryway. “You left me.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Do you know how long it takes to get to Shidosha by boat?” Oran asked, but before she could even muster a response, he was leaning in closer.
“Four days. Four days. And for those four days, I was sick to death with worry that you’d been kidnapped and traded to sick fucks that take pleasure in hurting women.
I believed that you fell overboard, that you drowned at sea.
I believed that the worst had happened and I would have to return here and face that fucker over there and confess to him that I’d lost you. ”
Oran leaned back, still imposingly large.
She was still trapped, guilt weeding its way into her heart as she looked over his worn and haggard features.
“When I finally reached port, I heard two crewmen talking about the insane white-haired woman that jumped ship and swam back to shore. Decided to take my chances and sail back here, to this horrendous continent, and find you.”
Aziel finally moved, sighing as he stepped towards them. “That’s enough.”
“I’m not finished—”
“I don’t fucking care. I said that’s enough. You said your piece, now step back.” His voice was calm. Gentle, almost, but laced with the bite of a warning. Oran stared at his brother, jaw clenched, but moved back nonetheless. “She said that she was sorry.”
Oran scoffed, focus shifting back to Nymiria. “She could have told me.”
“In my defense,” she began. “You were sleeping and you hadn’t slept in days.
I didn’t want to wake you. Besides, it was a bit of a last minute decision.
I was seduced by a demon and he lured me into the water.
” She turned to Aziel as she spoke, eyes narrowing when she saw the smugness toying at the corner of his lips.
“Blame Aziel if you’re going to blame anyone for me being rash. I wasn’t in my right mind.”
Though her response was genuine, it seemed to only rouse the beast inside him again, a slew of curses leaving his mouth. “I’ve been looking for you for weeks!” Oran yelled.
“I said enough. Both of you shut it.” Aziel chimed. “It is my fault.”
Oran drew in a deep breath and actually looked at his brother.
He hadn’t seen him in six months and would be lying to himself if he said that he hadn’t missed him a little.
They’d spent every day of a decade together and his life had felt rather dull without his vicious and murderous brother lurking around.
His body visibly deflated, his limbs growing heavy as he slid himself into a chair in front of Nymiria, his head falling forwards and resting in her lap. Aziel’s jaw ticked. “I’m sorry.” Oran whispered. “I just believed the worst had happened.”
Nymiria stared down at the back of Oran’s wet head, her brow pinched together and hands twitching with uncertainty of what to do. Slowly, hesitantly, she patted him on the shoulder. “It’s alright,” she sighed. “Now get off of me.”
He fell away from her, reclining into his chair. He spoke again behind his hands, slowly dragging them down his face. “I’m glad you’re alright.” He grumbled. “But I am never traveling anywhere with you again.”
She let out a soft chuckle, lowering herself down from the table top. “Likewise.”
Oran joined them for another drink, silence surrounding them save for the occasional questions Aziel would ask about Oran’s travels and the war.
After an hour or so, when the tavern was full of soaked and weary travellers who had been caught in the tempest outside, the barkeep approached Aziel with a worried expression.
Nymiria only caught a piece of their hushed conversation—something about how the performer wouldn’t be able to make it for the evening due to the storm. Aziel didn’t look displeased, but he also didn’t look happy. For a moment, she believed he actually looked rather sheepish. Shy.
It was shocking. And as she watched Aziel nod and shift to his feet, that shock only seemed to grow.
Because he was now plucking a worn and scratched guitar out from behind the bar and heading towards the corner of the room.
She turned to Oran, her brow furrowed and lips parted.
The prince, on the other hand, watched after his brother with a rather calm expression, as if none of this was new to him.
“Is he going to sing?” She whispered.
Oran glanced at her and nodded, taking a sip of his drink. “I’d assume so. You’ve never heard him?”
Nymiria was still tracking his movements when she shook her head, watching Aziel adjusting himself on the stool in the corner of the room. People had gathered eagerly, their curious eyes moving over him as he placed the guitar onto one of his thighs. His hands…
His gloves were gone. His scars were gone.
Of course, she thought, he needed to be able to play.
Despite everything she believed she shouldn’t have felt, Nymiria couldn’t shake the mild jealousy she felt at people seeing him without his gloves, but also the growing sense of satisfaction that came with the fact that he’d hidden his scars.
They were a secret, afterall. Very few people were allowed to see them.
“He used to sing in the theatre as a boy,” Oran continued quietly, the entire tavern hushing the moment Aziel began plucking at the strings of the instrument. “My mother believed that it would be good for him to have a hobby. I was never allowed to go, but I found my way.”
As she watched him strum, as that beautiful melody filled the air, Nymiria had very little trouble imagining what he must have looked like on that stage.
Him, a young boy still battling with the death of his mother, donning costumes and paints and personas to help him forget the unimaginable pain of her loss.
She knew too well how addictive the idea of becoming someone else, if only for a moment or night, truly was.
She’d performed in her own way for years.
Her chin fell to the center of her palm, her heart thrumming dangerously the moment his voice lifted over the chords he played.
And when Aziel’s eyes met hers, every hair on her body prickled in response.
Heat rose to her cheeks, spreading quickly to each of her extremities as he sang.
Line after line, chorus after chorus, her whole being seemed to catch fire.
Three songs had been played and while she wanted to believe she was being foolish, there was no other way to explain the way he looked at her—like each word he sang was a lament to her, specifically.
It was that final outro, sung by the most beautiful voice she’d ever heard in her life, that finally made her look away. Not out of embarrassment, but for the simple fact that she felt she would combust if she held his gaze for much longer.
“Intertwined,
Your soul and mine,
Dancing lifetimes pass before our eyes.
The feeling of splendor,
A taste of wine,
I’d drink every drop from your sacred vine.”
A cacophony of applause filled the tavern, her own hands mindlessly and weakly moving together in front of her.
And though she still could not bring herself to look at him as he approached them again, Nymiria felt the heat radiating off him the moment he sat down.
She could smell that strong, thick scent of whiskey, leather, and cherry blossoms—a smell that almost made her moan.
Thankfully, he was already in deep discussion with Oran when she finally braved the chance to look at him. Her eyes flickered over his face, moving from his gleaming blue eyes, down the slope of his stud-clad nose, and then finally to his lips. Plump. Pink. Perfect.
An image flickered in her mind of him rising up from in between her legs—those very lips of his wet with her desire, that hungry look in his eyes as he moved up the length of her body.
She nearly gasped aloud at her own insolence, reaching quickly for her mug of ale and taking a large gulp that only seemed to make her body hotter.
Mortified at her own vicious thoughts, Nymiria eyed the window anxiously, nearly collapsing with relief when she saw that the storm finally cleared.
She was the first person out the door, practically sprinting in order to get away from the tension.
Aziel and Oran were not far behind her, both of them watching as she tried to navigate her way back to Eadyn. As much as he hated to admit it, there were so many questions eating away at Aziel’s chest.
“You cared for her.” He said, finally.
Oran looked at his brother. “Of course I did, Aziel. She’s your—”
“Thank you.” Aziel blurted, his face contorting as if it pained him to say the words.
He cared deeply for his brother, but gratitude between the two of them was still unfamiliar territory.
He’d always been grateful for the ways Oran helped him in the past, but he’d never been allowed to show it.
“Thank you for staying with her when I couldn’t. ”
Nymiria nearly collapsed into Aziel’s bed the moment they made it back to the palace, her muscles protesting when she rolled over and began attempting to kick off her boots. Aziel lingered by the door, smirking as he watched her.
“Here,” he came forward, snatching her ankle mid-air. “Let me help.”