Page 67 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
“Yes!” her husband exclaimed with a warm chuckle. “I’m famished.”
Alethea sat across from him, directly between Lady Yara at the head and Nakir to her right. Balthasar took the remaining seat next to Myron. Alethea scanned his face for what he thought about the seating arrangement, but like a good spymaster, he was unreadable.
Without missing a beat, servants filled all their goblets with dark red wine.
“I must thank you for agreeing to meet with us,” Nakir stated, raising his glass to their hosts. “I understand what such ameeting could cost you.” His eyes met Lady Yara’s, a silent acknowledgment of the risk she was taking.
The Great Lord and Lady raised their glasses in kind, the clinking of crystal against crystal echoing in the hushed room. But shared between them was a glance laden with silent communication—a mutual understanding of the dangers and the delicate balance they were all navigating.
“It is treasonous, yes. But... your mother and I were once friends. I owe it to her to hear what you have to say. Let Nysos bless this meeting.”
Everyone drank to that. Alethea took a small sip, the taste of the wine strong and bold on her tongue.
“But first,” Lady Yara said, setting her glass down and turning to Alethea, who wasn’t sure how the Great Lady’s face could turn more serious, but somehow, it did. “There is something I need to ask you. Your Highness, there are troubling rumors... Rumors you’ve been kidnapped and held against your will. Yet you arrive clearly well cared for, so I want to hear it directly from you. Tell me why I should not arrest these men and return you to your mother.”
The room fell silent, the gravity of the moment hanging between them like a heavy tapestry as they each waited for her response. Alethea’s face heated at the sudden attention. She’d expected more conversation and pleasantries from the Great Lady before delving into such topics of discussion, though maybe she should not be so surprised. Lady Yara was a direct woman and had never been known to beat around the bush.
“My Lady,” she began, her voice steady despite the butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She placed her clasped hands neatly on the table in front of her and studied each of them for a moment. “I’ve thought of a hundred explanations for what I might say today. None of them are as simple as the truth.”
A heavy silence filled the room, anticipation charging the air like a storm before its break.
“I am working with Nakir Hasan and his company of my own free will. It is true they found me in the woods just outside Hyelea. But what they don’t know is that I only found myself lost in those woods because I had fled the castle.”
Myron let out a soft gasp, a meaty hand coming to rest over his heart. Alethea secretly loved how expressive he was. She guessed he loved a good story, and she certainly had one for him.
“When I met Nakir, I expected... I expected a monster. I expected he would do to me as my mother does to her enemies. I expected that after he found me wandering helplessly in the forest outside Hyelea, he would bring me back to his camp and torture me for every last drop of information I could give him. I expected to be ransomed back to my mother for all the coin in her coffers, or worse.”
Nakir’s gaze was intent on her. He was also hearing this for the first time. She didn’t allow her eyes to linger on him for more than a few seconds. She couldn’t bear to see the surprise mixed with something else—something warm and soft. Something her heart couldn’t handle.
“You can imagine my surprise when I was treated with respect. One of his generals tore him apart when we arrived, believing Nakir had stolen me as retribution for the death of the Great Lord Goran Arranil. This wasn’t who they were, she told him. She even offered to electrify anyone who stepped a toe out of line with me—and I believed her.”
Even Lady Yara’s stern expression softened, a glimmer of understanding flickering in her eyes.
“I saw the truth in how bravely his soldiers fought for him, how fiercely his friends defended him. How they stood up not just for him, buttohim.” Alethea’s voice steadied, the tremor fading as her conviction solidified. “I began to see a different future for Lenorea.” She offered a small, determined smile, her words a promise woven from her newfound resolve. “Trust mewhen I say that I am here because I want to be. Because I believe in him. Because someone needs to put a stop to the Crimson Queen.”
Alethea allowed herself one long, soothing breath, sitting perfectly upright even in the poignant, profound pause that followed. Myron glanced between her and Nakir in growing delight, realization dawning on his face as he bit the inside of his lip.
“I have always known you to be honest,” Lady Yara said, also folding her hands in front of her. “I will trust you when you say that you are safe. I must admit, the fact he has convinced you, of all people, to join his side is quite compelling. Very well. What do you have to say to us, Nakir Hasan?”
Alethea let go a long breath, and as if on cue, servants arrived with their first course of cheese-stuffed mushrooms. Her mouth watered. They’d been living on camp stew for days. Her first bite had her wishing the entire encampment were dining with them.
“To put it simply,” Nakir stated, “Alethea is not the only one changed by our meeting. She has convinced me of the importance of diplomacy. With your support and the backing of your full military might, we aim to force Queen Zenobia’s hand without bloodshed.” He faced Yara, steady and determined.
Myron stroked his beard thoughtfully, considering his words, while his wife remained stone-faced, keen eyes fixed on Nakir.
“But we must be prepared in case she does not wish to surrender peacefully.”
Yara paused in her negotiations to partake in a few bites of her dinner, leaving the tension in the room to tighten. When she spoke again, it wasn’t of their armed forces. “There are rumors of a mage by the name of Roman Kentigern causing a stir in the Realm. A disruption to the Empire could destabilize Lenorea. What do you know of it?” Her voice was measured, probing for Nakir’s knowledge.
Nakir’s response was smooth, his words chosen carefully. “I’m currently unaware of Roman Kentigern’s plans, but the fact Lenorea is an island kingdom does allow us a certain amount of protection. While an Imperial takeover could disrupt some of the things we take for granted if it goes poorly, our duty is to our people above all else. Meseira produces enough food to sustain all of Lenorea, thanks to your Dawn Mother-blessed fields. We can withstand any disruption as long as those in power aren’t keeping everything for themselves.”
A tactful answer—one the Great Lady didn’t seem displeased with.
Yet he pressed on with more evidence. “We’ve come to learn the queen is hoarding grain and other supplies in the palace stores. This past Hunter’s Moon, we aided a small group of Hyeleans in their efforts to determine how much she was keeping for her court and her advisors. We discovered she had enough grain and other shelf-stable resources in her stores to lastyears, while many of her people starve.” His words served as a damning indictment of Queen Zenobia’s rule.
“Horrible,” Myron sighed, shaking his head in disgust.
“We were able to help them liberate a fair spread of it,” Nakir continued, his words laced with quiet defiance.
