Page 4 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
“Quickly, now.”
“Yes, Mother. He… conspires to put another on your throne,” Alethea finally determined, her eyes flickering white for a moment. Her vision temporarily disrupted, she caught sight of Goran’s fearful expression. She wished she could save him from this fate, but no one would be able to rescue him now.
“Who?” the queen demanded.
“Nakir Hasan.” The name sounded familiar, though the memory remained distant.
“Who stands with him? Goran has a daughter—is she involved in this treachery?”
Alethea grimaced as she stepped forward to lay a tentative hand on his shoulder. It felt wrong to touch him when he could not consent, but it would only be worse for her if she failed to produce the answers her mother desired. They each had their role to play.
As she dug deeper, her head throbbed. “He has sheltered Nakir Hasan for years, with plans of restoring the Hasan family to the throne. The gentry of Ephesus stands with him. He gathers an army of soldiers and mages. His daughter…” Alethea wished she could hold back, but it was already too late as the words formed in her throat. “She stands with him.”
Kerrigan Arranil was the sole heir to her father’s province and would likely meet the same fate as Goran for her involvement in this.
“How large is this army?”
Beads of perspiration trickled down Alethea’s temples as she struggled to maintain her composure. Even though she only had so much magic to pull from, she had no choice but to continue. She understood that her mother would not be satisfied until she had her answers, or until she could not press on—whichever came first.
“Eighteen thousand strong.” Her legs shook, the force of the number and the magic behind it leaving her unsteady. “More than one thousand are mages.”
The queen’s displeasure manifested in a sharp hiss. “Howdid he get such forces?”
“He has been building an army for many years.” Alethea could see it in her mind’s eye: Goran Arranil using Ephesus’s vast resources to train his bannermen over the past decade, even going so far as to hire mercenary armies from the neighboring kingdom of Wolfecrest.
“Do any of the other provinces support him? Meseira? Edysos?”
Alethea attempted to tug at the Weave once more, her mind a battleground between her own fatigue and her mother’s demands. The room had begun to spin and tilt. There was always a limit to her abilities, and Zenobia would not allow her to stop until she was satisfied. The forceful nature of today’s request required her to scrape desperately at the murky bottom of her well.
“He has written letters to the other Great Lords, but none have responded.” Her words came out in a strained whisper as she struggled to stay upright.
“Very good.” The queen’s tone held a touch of grim satisfaction, but Alethea could sense her mother’s impatience. She attempted to withdraw, fighting the burn rising in her throat, but the queen gave another hiss. “Oh, you’re not done yet.”
The princess wilted. Her shoulders sagged, strength waningunder the relentless pressure of her mother’s will. “I am… not sure if I can continue,” she tried, her words barely wisps.
“You have a duty to the crown,” the queen reproached. “Or do I need to remind you why we are in this position?” Every word was a lash, driving Alethea deeper into her own sense of inadequacy, her helplessness.
“No, Your Majesty.” Shame burned her cheeks. She was already haunted by her failures every moment of every day. Steeling herself, she placed her hand back on Great Lord Arranil’s shoulder.
“Tell me why.Whydid the Great Lord of Ephesus think it was a good idea to cross his queen? What made him think he couldpossiblywin against us?”
Facts were easy. Would it rain today? What year had the Great Flowering begun? Who would be the next sovereign of Azmarin? These were all easy questions for her to answer. Motivations and desires were more complex, like trying to claw at a mud puddle, but she took a deep breath and dove as far into her powers as she could, fighting the nausea and the dizziness. Her grip on his shoulder was all that kept her from swaying as the room began to spin.
“Goran Arranil never forgave Aikat Onasis for his coup against the Hasan family. He believes the late king used religious fear-mongering and corrupt threats to convince the other Great Lords to join his side.” Alethea could imagine the events through her own knowledge of what had taken place before she was born. They appeared in her mind like old paintings, flickering through an incomplete story.
She didn’t notice her knees buckling from the effort of wading through the Weave’s delicate strands. Each word was a struggle to get out as she found the last dregs of her font of magic.
“Since the assassination of Evanthia and Lazaros Hasan ten years ago, he has been plotting to seek revenge and restorebalance to the kingdom. He believes the Hasan family… are the rightful rulers… that Nakir Hasan is the rightful king… that the Onasis family are usurpers, and… your rule is corrupt and illegitimate.”
Alethea’s prophecy ended as she collapsed on the grimy stone floor. Her head spun and throbbed, and the contents of her stomach pushed up into her throat.
“Useless girl. Getup. We’re not done here.”
She wanted to cry, but she held it deep within her chest, digging her nails into her palms as she fought the urge to break down. She could just see in her peripheral vision Goran Arranil’s stunned expression and the flicker of concern in his eyes, intensifying her humiliation even further.
The Great Lord finally spoke, his words coming out in a low rasp. “If I knew you were going to use your daughter like this, I would have just confessed.”
Alethea barely heard his voice, but it was deep and filled with disgust.
