Page 7 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
“Yes, and he’s very well aware of how handsome he is.” Alethea longed for a book of her own to hide behind. The last thing she wanted was to go back over ancient history, but her maids were not as eager to let the past stay buried.
Talia waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “Sohandsome. And he’s the firstborn prince of Azmarin. You were so smitten with him! We all were, to be quite honest.”
Alethea tugged her hair over her shoulder, plucking at the end of the messy braid. “That was years ago. Whatever was between us is solidlyover.”
“Is that so?” Millicent’s eyes sparkled with curiosity—a gleam that bordered on mischief as she reached underneath Alethea’s bed and pulled out a long-forgotten box, flipping the lid to show at least twenty opened letters. “Then why do you still keep all his letters under your bed?”
Embarrassment flooded the princess, and her pale cheeks flushed with color. “Gods save me now. I’ve just forgotten to throw them out!”
Talia burst into giggles as Alethea buried her face in her hands.
“Shall we go through them?” Millicent pried gleefully.Whether she was truly curious or just thought it would help distract her was unclear.
“I would rather throw myself from the tower,” Alethea groaned, but still, she managed a small smile. It was working, this brief respite from the burdens of her station, and for that, she was grateful.
Mercifully, Millicent put the box back where she’d found it, smoothing out the lush duvet afterward. Alethea made a mental note to burn those cursed letters. If only she hadn’t been too sentimental to throw them out when she’d returned from that ill-fated trip to Azmarin...
“I really thought you two were going to be married by now,” Millicent admitted, her touch gentle against Alethea’s shoulder. “I remember you seemed so... happy.”
If she didn’t know any better, Alethea would think Millicent actually cared. These ladies were the closest thing she had to friends, even though they were employed by her mother—which was something she’d learned well to never forget.
She tried to hide her frown, but as usual, she was unsuccessful in keeping her feelings from Millicent.
Once upon a time, the two girls had been closer than sisters, but after the handmaiden betrayed Alethea’s confidence to the queen, their friendship was never the same. If it had only been the princess who’d suffered, that would have been forgivable, but an innocent man was rotting in the dungeons because of it.
Alethea shook her head. “That’s over now. Besides, it appears we have more pressing things to worry about. I have no doubt the trip to Rai’Sharr is to petition for Empress Illyria’s support against this brewing rebellion.”
For a moment, she wondered what such a rebellion would look like. Would they storm the castle? Would they fight on a distant battlefield? Just the thought of bloodshed had her stomach in knots. Her mother had warned her their position as the sovereigns of Lenorea had been hanging by a thread for adecade now, but to Alethea, the prospect of rebellion remained an uncertainty, more akin to a ghostly warning than an immediate peril.
Talia seemed more than happy to share her thoughts on the subject of the mysterious rebel, bookmarking her place in the novel and holding it against her chest as she spoke. “Well,Iheard Nakir Hasan is a horrible monster of a man. Horns, talons,fangs. And a terrible dark magic. Can you imagine?”
Millicent fixed her gaze on Talia, eyes narrowing. “Aeshlien aren’t monstrous by default—you know that. They’re just another bloodline, cursed to pay for Aeshma’s sins against his father, the Creator. May he rest in divine peace.”
Alethea kept her eyes down. Talia’s words reflected exactly the kind of fear-mongering that had lost the Hasans their throne.
“I knowthat,” Talia rebutted, still clutching her novel. “But! Ididhear he was monstrous—not just on the outside. I heard he once killedtwentyroyal mages single-handedly! They also say he took down an entire coven of Forsaken by himself. He sounds so dangerous. Probably the most dangerous man in the Realm—with his magicandhis sword. And I heard he has a court full of mages who are just as terrifying and evil as he is.”
“Where do you hear these things, Talia?” Millicent questioned with raised brows.
She crossed her arms defensively. “My father, of course.” Talia’s father was a lord of Ionia and loyal to the Crimson Queen. “He said just this morning, over breakfast, that Nakir Hasan and hisDark Courtare a serious threat to the Crown. He said he wouldn’t even be surprised if they had an Enchanter.”
This had Alethea’s stomach twisting again. Enchanters were a type of mage who could trick the senses, usually with visual or auditory illusions, but some of them could even bend another person’s will. The latter was considered by many to be a dark magic, like Necromancy.
It wasn’t as if a person could choose which magic they wereborn with, but while some were revered, others were feared. Alethea’s father had always told her it was what a mage did with their powers that mattered, but it was hard to imagine someone wielding the ability to control another’s very will without succumbing to corruption, no matter how noble their intentions might have once been.
Millicent turned her attention to Alethea, her needlework forgotten. “I do wish you would tell us what happened with Prince Reingard. You made such a beautiful couple.”
She let go a long sigh, unsure of how to answer and already weary from the memories that surfaced unbidden. “It wouldn’t have worked out anyway.” She resumed plucking at the end of her braid, the loose strands fraying beneath her nervous fingers as she avoided Millicent’s sympathetic gaze. She knew the answer wouldn’t satisfy, but it was all she could manage.
Talia furrowed her brow in concern as if she were trying to solve a mathematics problem. “If he’s the heir to Azmarin, and you’re the heir to Lenorea... who would rule where? And what about your children? Will you be queen of AzmarinandLenorea? And what if one of you died—then who would the crown pass to? How confusing.”
All this talk of marriage exhausted Alethea, who struggled not to feel like a broodmare for the court to preen and plot over. She had tried romance once, and she was in no hurry to do so again.
“It doesn’t matter. I won’t be marrying Reingard,” she told them, hardly noticing the way her vision faded, eyes radiating ethereal white light. “And my mother will keep her crown until winter’s solstice.”
The light faded. The implication of her own words hit her like a stone. The handmaidens, who both knew of her abilities and had been sworn to secrecy, had just witnessed her voice a prophecy. She could force visions, but sometimes they took herwithout warning. Panic flared in her chest as the implication of her words caught up with her.
“My mother will keep her crown until winter’s solstice.”
