Chapter 21
One Hour Earlier…
She was surprised to learn that King Alvaros had become so ill so suddenly that he couldn’t attend the meeting. Auritsa, Everand’s mother, had always been the kind of woman that turned her nose up to the people of Nym, always portraying herself as someone far more superior than anyone else.
Much like her son, Auritsa was doused from head to toe in finery and a display of riches, her face painted such a pale shade of white that she almost looked comical, like she belonged in a theatrical portrayal of a queen, rather than a real one.
Her golden brown curls were tinted with blonde, curled and styled atop her head in a way that Nymiria had never seen before; her gown cinched so tight at the waist that Nymiria was confused as to how the woman managed to breathe, her bosoms nearly toppling out onto the table.
She’d never shown an ounce of kindness to Nymiria—perhaps had always viewed her as chattel rather than an actual person. Someone who her son could pump his seed into, a walking womb, and not a woman of importance.
Nymiria schooled her features as best she could, offering Everand and his mother kind smiles as they ate their breakfasts.
Though she believed that she was perfectly capable of handling the two of them on her own, she was anxiously awaiting her father’s arrival.
It was odd, she thought, considering that Thorn had always been very particular about time.
Raina explained to them that he was still sleeping. But that was odd, as well.
Even when Nymiria was a girl, her father typically woke earlier than anyone else.
He would tend to his morning exercises, help the cooks and servants as much as he could with the breakfast meals, and work through paperwork.
He believed that the morning hours were the most important hours of the day.
Auritsa lowered her tea back onto the table, eyeing Nymiria.
She hadn’t said a word when Nymiria arrived, only pursed her lips and looked away when she bowed.
Looking back at that moment, Nymiria realized that she probably never should have allowed herself to stoop to that level for this woman. But old habits did, indeed, die hard.
“I presume we’ll begin when my father arrives.” Nymiria sighed, countering Auritsa with an equally judgemental stare. “Unless you all have killed him and I’m next in line.” She turned to Everand. “Neither of you have said a word.”
Everand released a long puff of air, already visibly irritated. She hoped that he was—she hoped that she reeked of Aziel and that he couldn’t stand it. She hoped it erased every silly little thought in his head that she would ever choose to marry into a family like theirs.
“I don’t think that his presence is absolutely necessary for this conversation.
” He began, the tone of his voice shifting just as quickly as the color of his eyes.
She watched, perplexed, as that honey-brown quickly flickered to black.
“You see, Nymiria, I meant it when I said that I wanted you to be my wife. And I am not the kind of man who takes any version of no for an answer.” Nymiria’s brow lowered as he rose to his feet.
Her fingers curled around the arm of her chair, teeth grinding, as she watched him take deliberate, languid steps in her direction.
“Your father informed us just yesterday what you intended to offer us. And while I appreciate your willingness to offer us your Graces and blessings, I do believe that they are entirely unnecessary.”
Anger burned in the pit of her stomach. She felt the slow swell of that silver light inside of her, that vicious animal that was designed to protect, clawing its way to the surface.
“Just get out with it.” She snarled. The prince merely laughed and shook his head.
Across from her, Auritsa let out a high-pitched scoff that chafed Nymiria’s rage.
“I don’t need what you want to offer me, Nymiria. What I want, above all else, is for you to be mine.”
“You can’t own people, Everand.” She snapped. “And you certainly cannot own me. I don’t care what you threaten—”
Everand’s body was large. Nymiria hadn’t found it to be intimidating until he flew at her faster than she could blink.
His fingers closed around her throat, her head colliding with the back of her chair so hard that she felt the collision rattle through her brain.
“I’m not threatening anything, petal. I’m promising you that if you refuse my offer, I will have no other option than to take very drastic measures. ”
Nymiria tried to swallow—tried to breathe. The fear in her stomach coiled around the anger, panic controlling her limbs as she reached up and attempted to claw his hand away from her throat.
Aziel.
Aziel.
She squeezed her eyes shut, praying over and over again that he would hear her calling for him, even if she could not voice it. Everand’s fingers were crushing her. She could feel the insides of her throat pressing together, bending in ways that were entirely unnatural.
And then, she smelled it…
A sickly odor of overripe fruit. Sweet and sticky, but souring. Her eyes flew open, lungs gasping for even the smallest fraction of air. Everand released his hold just enough for her to inhale, his hand still firm on her throat.
“You’re a god.” She rasped, vocal chords burning.
Everand’s mouth peeled back into the most harsh smile she’d ever seen. One that made her blood run cold. “Yes,” he whispered. “The most deceitful one of them all.”
She wished she would have fought harder.
She wished she would have never given him an ounce of grace.
But Nymiria’s biggest fault was trying to see the good in those who never deserved it—those that would, time and time again, do nothing but disappoint her.
But perhaps it was not so disappointing, after all.
She’d always known that the Alvaros family were utterly detestable creatures.
That was the last thought she had before the world went dark.
Present…
Nymiria winced at the blurry brightness that surrounded her. Sunlight was pouring in through a window that she did not recognize, her body sprawled across the floor of a room that she did not know.
“There you are.” Everand crooned, his face filling her vision. Nymiria’s first reaction was to reach out and grab him, to claw at his face and dig into his throat, but her body could not move. “Finally decided to join us again in the land of the living. Here, let me have a look at you.”
Nymiria used every ounce of strength in her body to turn her head when he reached for her face.
“Look at me,” Everand jerked her chin towards him, the grooves of his rings cutting into her hardened jaw.
Nymiria breathed sharply through her nose, nothing but pure ire could be seen in her eyes.
“Good girl. Now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?
” The tone of his voice shifted to that of sickly satisfaction.
There was no use in struggling. He was stronger than her—far more experienced with his powers than she was. He could kill her with a single blink, if that was what he wished to do. “So,” she began. “You are the God of Deceit?”
Everand let out a hollow laugh, eyes menacing as he inched closer to her. “Obedient and smart. Yes, petal. Was I convincing enough for you?” She made a face at the use of the word petal, her stomach turning sour as she watched him shift to his feet.
When his palms unfurled in front of him, a small sigil appeared in the intricate silver markings expanded and as he pushed his right palm forward, the sigil exploded.
The world around them morphed and turned—the room that they were once in now becoming an opening in a forest, the canopy of trees opening to the image of a waterfall.
It blurred and shifted again, the world spinning from location to location so quickly that Nymiria felt sick.
Even Everand’s features changed. He was Trio, Thorn, Aziel, Raven…
She groaned, squeezing her eyes shut to alleviate the roiling in her gut. It was clear what he could do—what his power entailed. He could manipulate everything. Deceive everyone.
Nymiria remembered how precious he’d been as a young boy.
He’d been so kind and caring—nothing like this monster that stood before her now.
Perhaps she should have realized it, that her memories of him were fabricated, just as the majority of her childhood had been fabricated.
All of the memories she had of him were too perfect, but there was something painful in the cracks of those moments in her mind, deep and dark valleys in between bright landmarks.
The pain felt like a broken bone, like a tooth being pulled, or hair being ripped out.
She shuddered, swallowing down the acid rising into her mouth. “What do you want, Everand?”
“What I told you I wanted, petal. I want you to be my wife.” He said it so simply, she wondered if he knew just how insane he sounded.
Good gods, he was holding her hostage—this was hardly the way one proposed marriage.
He came to her again, lowering himself to his knees in front of her.
His hand came up to her hair, brushing stray strands of it away from her face.
She was desperate to flinch away, her muscles straining with the urge, but she was too stiff.
Too under his control. “Could you imagine what we could accomplish—the bloodline we could create if we joined forces? Two gods ruling an entire kingdom. You know, it happened once in Caddagh? Two gods married, created multiple races of children that went on to be the most revered leaders in the world.”
Nymiria’s eyes turned to slits. “Yes, I am aware. Obedient and smart, remember?”