Chapter 30
Nymiria worried at her lip as she looked up at her father’s palace. She’d been dreading this part, but knew that it was for the best.
They were running out of time.
Nymiria couldn’t help but notice how history seemed determined on repeating itself—as if she hadn’t experienced enough pain and humiliation to last a lifetime.
She wanted to believe that she’d paid for her transgressions and perhaps she had.
Perhaps all of this was just another trial of life.
Just another villain to kill, another bridge to burn to protect the innocent people of the world.
She walked through the ward without any difficulties, lifting her chin and moving forward, even if every muscle in her body protested against it.
She would not run away. She would not run away.
Even when things became too difficult for her to bear, there were people in this palace that needed her, and she would not run away.
She stepped into the grand foyer, eyes moving over the mess Everand and his creatures had made in her absence.
In just a few days, the large curtains covering the windows had been ripped and burned, there was dirt and leaves strewn about the pale stone floor, specks of blood and gods knew what else splattered across various surfaces.
The altar at the center of the room was decorated with more offerings—dead animals, masks with grotesque features, rotting meat, and molding bread…
Nymiria covered her nose, swallowing back the bile that was now burning in her throat.
The smell was utterly horrid. Even under his enchantments, she couldn’t see how no one in the palace had yet to sober and realize what was happening.
She wondered what they saw, what scenery he was forcing them to see.
She walked deeper into the palace, the sounds of her booted feet against the tile being the only things that cut into the silence.
Up the stairs, she finally heard the whispers of the children.
She released a relieved sigh when Raven’s head appeared in the crack of a door, his eyes still soft and filled with that glimmer of innocence.
He looked ragged—hair unwashed and uncombed, his clothes stained with what looked to be dirt and food.
“Where is everyone?” She asked quietly.
Raven shook his head. “Sleeping. They’ve been sleeping during the daytime since you left.”
Nymiria recalled something she’d learned during all of the time she spent reading weeks prior to now.
She’d read quite a bit about Mimics—how blood magic was far more powerful under the light of the moon.
If she had to guess, Everand was keeping everyone in the palace awake all hours of the night, practically forcing them to become nocturnal.
It was a very useful bit of information.
She placed a kiss upon Raven’s forehead. “Have you all eaten?” She asked.
Raven glanced around at the other children and shook his head.
Days ago, they’d still been wearing clean clothes.
They looked to have been bathed and well-taken care of.
Nymiria’s face went hot with anger, her whole body going rigid as she turned towards the bedroom she’d shared with Everand.
There was no use in being quiet anymore, she was well beyond the point of wanting to seem meek and timid in order to keep the peace.
She kicked the door open, not even the least bit surprised to find Everand sleeping in the center of a pile of naked women. He, himself, lacked clothing but did not even seem to notice. He was too busy trying to block the light of day from his eyes.
“There you are,” he said groggily. “Right on time, too. I was going to start the killings tonight if you didn’t come back.”
Nymiria rolled her eyes. “Is that why you’ve been starving the children?” Everand was pushing away the sleeping women and crawling to the foot of the bed. Nymiria didn’t even bother with shielding her eyes from his nakedness. It wasn’t anything special and she didn’t rightly care if he knew it.
“Didn’t matter much to me if they starved, considering they would have been dead come nightfall.
You should be grateful that I gave you some grace.
I knew that you would come back eventually.
I think you know by now just how serious I am when it comes to my threats.
” He walked across the room, taking up a glass that was stained red.
Not from wine, Nymiria noticed. No, the consistency of the liquid he drank was far too thick to be wine.
He was drinking blood. He turned to her, smacking his lips before smiling.
“You made the right choice in returning. But, what happened with your mate? From the scent of you, I can tell that he fucked you senseless. But… here you are. Why is that?”
She ground her teeth together, making sure every ounce of ire in her body was visible in the hateful look she dispelled upon him.
“You won. That’s all that matters in the end, anyway.
” She looked around at the horrid state of the room, the smell of blood and other mysterious bodily fluids permeating through the air.
“Can you ask them to leave?” She gestured towards the throng of women still sleeping on the bed. “I’m tired.”
She was mid-stride, heading in the direction of the washroom when Everand jerked her to a halt.
Her offensive stare penetrated his as he reached for her hand.
Nymiria stiffened nervously. There, right where he’d placed it nearly three weeks ago, was the ring.
“Good.” His voice purred, rubbing over it with the pad of his thumb. “How did you get out?”
“You think I’d tell you something like that?”
He gripped her hand harder. From the look on his face, it was clear he was tempted to snap the bones entirely. Thankfully, he refrained. “We won’t be having this problem again, will we?” He asked.
She raised her chin. “I just wanted to see him one last time.” With that, she ripped her arm from his grasp. “You have absolutely nothing to worry over.”
Everand smirked, an angry laugh coming from his throat. “I just find it interesting, I suppose. I have so many burning questions, but the one thing I find most intriguing is how it must feel to fuck the man who used to fuck your mother.”
Red bled into her vision, her already sharp breaths growing harsher as she glared at him.
His face blurred, that anger deep inside of her, the anger she once claimed to not be her own, was now rising to the surface.
All sense of right and wrong—all sense of direction faded from her conscience.
She was upon him in a flash. Though her body was much smaller than his, it mattered very little with the amount of strength she now bore.
Her fingers were pressing into his throat, nails puncturing the skin. For just a moment, worry flickered over his features. “You’d be wise to choose your next words very carefully.” She snarled.
Everand’s worry turned to pride, his brow arching as he fought to rid himself of her grip.
His voice was straining against the force of her hand when he spoke again.
“And you’d be wise… to remember… that… I have a whole army of my men…
ready…to attack the moment anything happens to me.
” Her grip loosened just a fraction at the reminder, her brow twitching to the center.
“That’s right. Eadyn won’t even see it coming. ”
Nymiria forced herself away from him with a belly-deep growl, her hands trembling with fury as she took steps back.
The moonflowers on her arms were glowing, a prickling sensation forming at the tips of her fingers.
“I curse you.” She began, lips curling up at the corners.
“I curse you, Everand Alvaros. You will know nothing, but failure from this point on. Everything you attempt, every plan that you concoct will be fruitless. Everything you hold dear to you will crumble and rot—it will mimic the makeup of your soul.” Before she could lift her index finger in his direction, Everand was lunging forward, slamming her into the tile flooring.
Her head collided with the stone, sending web-like cracks through a good portion of the washroom. The palace grounds shook. Nymiria’s vision swam, but it did not stop her. “I am no witch.” She laughed.
“But you have the blood of one running through your veins!” Everand yelled, spittle flying from his mouth and smacking against her cheeks.
“Remember that.” She laughed—a sound that would have made her own blood run cold.
“Remember that every single time you try to take what isn’t yours.
I hope it haunts you. I hope you never have a restful sleep because of it.
And when everything in your life comes to a disastrous end, remember it.
Remember that I am the one who cursed you. Me.”
“Monsters do, indeed, breed more monsters.”
Her head tilted, eyes narrowing curiously.
“I’m not a monster, Everand. I am not a witch, a ghost, or a creature of the night.
I am a Goddess.” Though his weight felt like a boulder had been placed on top of her, Nymiria brought her hand down upon his face, her light moving through her veins—pulsing through the delicate swirls of vines and the precious curl of moonflowers until it bled from her fingers.
It was not her sigil that she’d burned into his skin.
No.
He yelped and cried, and as Nymiria peeled her hand away from his face, she smiled as she looked at what she’d done.
There, branded into his cheek, was the mark of a traitor.
The same one the evil men who’d captured her at fifteen burned into her stomach.
He fell away from her, fingers trembling around the burn.
The smell of charred flesh and burnt hair filled the room, but it was no less nauseating than what she’d smelled in the foyer.
“Now,” she sighed, slowly lifting to her feet. “We have a wedding to prepare, do we not?”