Page 18 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
Something dark and twisted inside her screamed she was being let off too easily, the relief of the momentary reprieve tinged with a bitter undercurrent of dread—but she didn’t dare voice her thoughts.
“What now?” she asked, the uncertainty in her voice echoing her inner turmoil.
“Now you eat and get some rest. In the morning, we’ll come up with a plan.”
His words hung in the air, leaving her questioning her place in the unfolding events. She’d entered this room bracing herself for interrogation, perhaps even torture, yet Nakir’s treatment of her had been downright civil, defying her expectations in the most bewildering way.
Civil except for the part where he’d kidnapped her, of course.
Alethea stood, preparing herself to be led to wherever the prisoner’s cart would be. She imagined he’d take her to some sort of cell on wheels they could just haul around with them, guarded day and night, encouraging the rebel soldiers to walk by and leer at the captured princess, Nakir Hasan’s war prize.
“Ah. You will be staying here this evening,” he informed her, clasping his hands behind his back. “My guards are well-trained, in case anyone tries to enter without your permission, and my honor will not allow me to be far from you, since it was my decision that led you to be here.”
Her head spun at his logic, but the pieces still weren’t coming together. She was a prisoner, and she was... expected to stay with him?
Alethea crossed her arms, her frown deepening. “But Emi... won’t she...?”
Nakir eyed her curiously, his arms also crossed. “Won’t she... what?” His expression was unreadable, a cool mask that gave away nothing. “Fry me if I so much aslookat you in a way you don’t like? Absolutely, she will.”
Alethea blushed. “She doesn’t sleep here with you?”
The realization of what she was implying seemed to dawn on him, and she knew she’d misspoken when a beaming grin split his face.
“You think... Oh gods, you think Emi and I... Oh, dear Alethea.”
The way he so easily referred to her in such an informal way had her stomach roiling. She wanted him to do it again, but she also wanted to crawl into a hole at his winning smirk. She hardly knew this man; she certainly shouldn’t bewantinganything from him.
“Do not get me wrong, anyone would be lucky to share a bed with that dangerous mage, but I can assure you, it is not me.” His smile seemed to stretch on forever. “I cannotwaitto tell Dawes you said that.”
“Please don’t.” Staring at her shoes, embarrassed, she rubbed a hand across her forehead. She’d expected him to interrogate her, and now he was...teasingher?
“I can see how you might think that though,” he added, but his smile remained, as if he were unable to shake his own amusement. “She does chide me like we’ve been married for years.”
“And it doesn’t bother you,” Alethea questioned, “that she speaks to you in that way?”
Not that he owed her any explanation.
Nakir’s smile eased, and he tilted his head to study her for a moment like some puzzle he was trying to figure out. “No. I’m honored by her candor. Emi has a way of keeping me grounded. Certainly, my ego could do without the bruising, but I know at the end of the day she would do anything for our cause.”
As he spoke, Alethea felt a pang of envy at Emi’s closeness to him. It was clear their bond was something special, a connection that transcended mere alliances. She had never witnessed such loyalty, such devotion, in a court.
“I’ll return in a few minutes. Let the guard know if you need anything at all.”
As he disappeared into the darkness, Alethea caught a glimpse of his profile, his features illuminated by the soft glow of distant lanterns and fires. His expression was as unreadable as ever, a perfected mask of composure that hid the complexity of his thoughts. The night seemed to swallow him whole, leaving Alethea alone in the hushed privacy of the tent.
Her entire world had been turned upside down. At any moment, she expected to be ambushed, to discover this was all some trick, that Nakir and his soldiers planned to skin her alive as payback for the Great Lord Arranil’s death. Wasn’t that what monsters did? Wasn’t that the fate her mother had promised would befall her? Yet she couldn’t escape the way Emi’s eyes had burned with anger—not because she was his jealous lover, but at the thought Nakir had taken her against her will. The two imagesshe had of him wouldn’t reconcile. She didn’t know how to trust it wasn’t all some scheme to get her to share her mother’s secrets.
Alethea peeked outside the tent to see the sun had long since set. All around the encampment, torches and campfires illuminated those who’d gathered to share common tasks like cooking meals and sharpening weapons. The guard stationed outside the tent peered over at her, and she wondered how ridiculous she appeared, just her head and her neck poking out of the tent flaps.
“Uh, hi,” she said, unbelievably awkward.
“Hello,” he greeted in return, his demeanor calm and friendly. He appeared to be in his late forties, his weathered face framed by a full head of black hair and a well-kept goatee. His eyes, though kind, held a depth of experience. He was dressed in a set of polished studded leather armor, each piece meticulously arranged, and he wore twin swords at his hips. “Can I be of service, Your Highness?”
Alethea felt her cheeks burn crimson. “Ah, no,” she replied, attempting to regain her composure.
“Just curious?” he asked, his gaze steady. It was as if he could see straight through her, making her feel transparent, her thoughts laid bare.
“A bit,” she admitted, her embarrassment only deepening in the face of his inquiry.
