Hell was where she burned, where she cried, begged and pleaded.
Azriel was her only way.
Nimou, Princess of the Kingdom of Sea is trapped in a storm of nightmares and pain that threatens to come alight with each step forward.
Azriel, her saviour w...
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"Things fall apart and time breaks your heart." - Billie Eilish
CHAPTER SIXTEEN SOMETHING OLD
ADRIATA WAS THE SAME AS WHEN SHE LEFT— same smell, same trinkets and flowers that decorated the warm palace, same stone floors. It was as if she never left and that made it easier for her to keep up the charade.
She never found Below, she wasn't touched or tortured. She was Nimou, the princess of the Waters. She was scar-free and burn-free. She was the embodiment of innocence.
Azriel's looming figure was always nearby, just as he promised, his arms only a slight reach away. And she knew if she needed to get away, he would take her to the ends of the content, the world if she needed. But, they needed to be here, they had to find that book. And she needed to keep up the charade.
"It's late, I believe your letter said mid afternoon." Tarquin said, his brows raised, a test she knew all too well.
Rhysand nodded slowly, "That would be my fault." Nim said, her voice airy and soft. "I went to see my mother."
"Ahh." The High Lord of Summer smiled, arm wrapping around Nim tightly and pulling her into him. She gave him a sweet smile, an old familiar smile, this one wasn't forced. Nothing was ever truly forced between them, besides the marriage. But even that wasn't a fight or a hill she was willing to die on. She was content with the marriage because she knew his heart. It hadn't been a blind marriage where neither party met the other. She spent weekends with the male long before the marriage was to be fulfilled. They knew one another when they were still figuring out themselves, and that still meant something special.
On the lonely nights in her prison, she could only remember the first few years. Tarquin and his obedience to the throne were similar to her own. They both wanted to make their parents proud, they wanted to live up to the heavyweight that cursed their blood. But long before the decision to marry them off, they were friends. Running through the fields of flowers, playing tag closer to the woods, their names were carved into the old Oak that could be seen from the doors, etched in the stump forever.
He had always been a gentle soul, much like herself. Rather than catch fish out of sheer boredom, much like the rest of the culture in the Court, they would catch and release. Taking a small amount of time to take in the breathtaking beauty. Or the ungodly amount of time they spent wrapping the scrapes they accumulated from playing. Love did bloom between them. An innocent, giddy love that would never return. Because even if Tarquin had stayed the same gentle, charismatic male— she hadn't. Her gentle side was harder to find than the sun at midnight. Her soul was fragmented and fractured and he wasn't the one to put it back together. She just knew it.
And even if she wanted to believe their friendship would always come first, before his crown, before his family's wishes... she couldn't be certain of his intentions. So, she needed to keep her guard up. "Would you like something to eat?" He whispered into her hair, lips rubbing against her temple. The instinct to jump away was strong, but she needed to be stronger and stay where she was.
