Page 64 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
“It’s beautiful,” Alethea told her, admiring the long sleeves and the modest collar. “And it looks warm.”
“I thought you might be wanting a change of clothes for when you meet with the Great Lord and Lady. I also got you some boots!”
Alethea accepted Emi’s gifts graciously, trying not to let herself become overwhelmed by the generosity.
“I rode ahead and picked them out from the market in Aegea this morning. I thought the dress would match your eyes.”
Alethea smiled, her nervousness beginning to fade. “Thank you, Emi. Will you two be joining us when we go to the castle?”
Dawes shook his head emphatically. “No, definitely not. Emi and I are going to stay at camp in case we have any surprise visitors.” He seemed relieved by this, as if he would rather do anything than dine with nobility. Alethea understood his sentiment. The weight of expectation that came with such formal occasions was daunting, even for someone who’d grown up as a royal.
Emi rubbed her gloved hands together, her breath coming out in puffs. “Much as I love a good dinner party, we have a lot of work to do. But you should enjoy yourself! Don’t worry about us out here.” She wrapped her arm around Alethea’s shoulder and gave her a small side-hug. “I think Nakir is making some final preparations, if you want to use the tent to get changed. It’s just down the hill.”
Nakir’s tent was easy to find—and blessedly empty.
Alethea stripped out of the ruined common dress, the remnants of her disastrous ride into the Hyelean woods falling to the floor. It felt like a lifetime ago, though scarcely two weeks had passed. In that short span, everything had changed.
She slipped into the sapphire-blue gown, startled by how perfectly it fit after only minor adjustments to the laces. The fabric was winter-warm and elegant, the sleeves long and open, the neckline modest at her collarbone. She managed most of the fastenings herself, but the last two behind her neck remained stubbornly out of reach. These gowns were never meant to beput on alone. The thought of Millicent and Talia struck like a bruise. How long it had been since she’d seen them... They would have no idea she was safer here than she’d ever been before.
She was still reaching when she felt him behind her. A shiver traced her spine. She didn’t need to look to know his amber eyes were already on her.
Nakir’s fingers found the laces with practiced ease, finishing what she could not. Alethea bit her lip, the moment suddenly intimate in a way that left her breathless—exposed, unsteady, keenly aware of the pull between them. He lingered close enough that his warmth seeped through the fabric of her gown. Time seemed to stall, her heart thundering in the silence, everything unspoken pressing close.
“Beautiful,” he murmured.
The word—soft, reverent—sent heat rushing through her, the memory flashing, sharp and unwelcome, of how he’d devoured her before the attack. His breath brushed her neck, warm and deliberate, and Alethea’s heart leapt into her throat as the air between them crackled, electric and unbearable.
But then he withdrew, the spell between them breaking cleanly. The loss of him left her momentarily breathless, pulse still racing as the echo of his closeness lingered on her skin.
She grasped for words—anything to bridge the sudden distance.
“I... Thank you,” she said at last. “Emi picked it out.”
His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile. He’d changed as well—into a black tunic and tan breeches, a heavy winter cloak draped over his shoulders. Whatever warmth had lingered in his amber eyes a moment ago was now carefully shuttered, his expression guarded once more.
The space between them seemed to widen, even though they were standing scarcely inches apart.
“We have some time before dinner with the Great Lord andLady,” he said evenly. “We could stop by the market, see if there’s anything you need. I know you didn’t arrive with much.”
Alethea managed a small smile, reaching for levity like a lifeline. “That’s a very polite way to describe kidnapping me,” she teased. “But yes, that would be lovely.”
She glanced down at her braid, already missing a proper hairbrush. A few more pairs of stockings wouldn’t hurt either.
They were saddled and ready before noon, just her and Nakir. Balthasar would join them for dinner, but until then, he had other demands on his time. As they rode toward the gates of Aegea, Alethea realized she hadn’t been so alone with Nakir since their brief walk in the woods the day she agreed to help him. There had always been someone nearby, even within the privacy of their tent.
They rode in silence, side by side, Alethea on the familiar gray gelding, Nakir astride his chestnut mare.
At the open gates, the city guards stood watchful and alert, yet they neither stopped them nor asked for identification. The ease of it made Alethea wonder if their arrival was anticipated—if the guards knew exactly who they were—or if they passed for nothing more than another well-dressed pair entering the city.
Even so, a faint wariness lingered. Alethea scanned the streets beyond, taking in the movement, the color, the layered rhythms of Aegea’s daily life.
Nakir guided them forward without hesitation, unbothered by the press of the crowd. His quiet confidence—and the anonymity it afforded them—offered a brief reprieve from everything waiting beyond the city walls.
The province of Meseira was the kingdom’s breadbasket, its fertile lands feeding not only its own people, but also countless others beyond its borders. Aegea, its great city, commanded the most formidable military force in the region—disciplined, battle-ready, and loyal. Securing the Imanrases’ allegiance wasthe first essential step toward the bloodless victory Alethea sought.
Aegea itself sprawled across the land, vast and teeming, its population of more than three hundred thousand rivaling even Hyelea. And yet its grandeur wasn’t measured by numbers alone; the city stretched wider than the capital itself, streets layered with purpose and motion.
They left their horses at the stables nearest the castle without incident and continued on foot.
