Page 99 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
She longed to defy his commands, to scream, to run, to reclaim her stolen agency.
But she could only walk silently beside him, every movement sending sharp twinges of pain through her weary body.
Each step took her farther away from the castle.
The bustling winter city passed in her periphery until they were on the far south side of Aegea, in the warehouse district. She tried to memorize every step, every turn, but her mind was too muddled to keep track of where she was going or where she’d been. She couldn’t even lift her head high enough to make frantic eye contact with anyone they passed in a plea for help.
He led her to a particularly nondescript stone building—an abandoned warehouse—and opened the door for her to enter.
The man waiting for her was thin and reedy, his teeth too large for his mouth and his eyes reminding her of a rat’s. “Damn, Baumann. You are as good as they say you are.”
“Better, actually,” the Enchanter replied, his arroganceunsettling. “But that was the easy part. Let’s get this girl to the capital. You know your orders. Donotengage with her whatsoever. She’s to be delivereduntouched.”
The capital. These men must have been hired by her mother, sent to retrieve her after the assassins failed. Her throat tightened as if she would cry, but it stuck there—painfully.
Alethea wanted to scream at them, to demand they release her, but the Enchanter’s instructions held so firmly the effort of trying nearly had her blacking out from exertion.
Worse than that was the understanding she wasn’t getting out of this; that this time, no one was coming to rescue her. And that was entirely her own doing.
The warehouse was empty except for a single horse-drawn carriage. Alethea had no choice other than to maintain in proximity to this man—this Enchanter named Baumann. He couldn’t have been much older than thirty, with lightly tanned skin, a square jaw, and the faintest hint of an afternoon shadow on his face. He seemed aged far beyond his years.
“Get in the carriage, Princess,” he instructed simply.
Every part of her begged to resist, but she complied in total silence, only allowed to blink through her swirling fears.
Alethea was drowning in her own thoughts, but the one that came back to her time and time again was the single thought that she would never see Nakir again. It had her heart breaking inside her chest, and she wrapped her arms around herself to try to hold some part of her together. She wasn’t allowed or able to cry. She couldn’t utter even a single sound.
Alethea retreated as far back into her seat as she possibly could when the Enchanter entered the carriage behind her. He settled on the bench across from hers and slammed the door closed behind himself. The sound had her wincing, clenching her fists tight at her sides.
“There we are. We’re off to the capital. Never you worry—you’re safe and sound.”
Somehow, she didn’t believe him.
“I’d keep to yourself, though, if I were you. Nelson... he ain’t right in the head—you know what I mean?”
Her stomach plummeted, but she could say nothing.
Alethea caught sight of an unusual blade at his side as he adjusted in his seat. The entire dagger seemed to be made of a dark, inky glass that absorbed all light around it. It was magical, yes, but also crafted from an element she’d never seen before. When he saw her gaze fall upon it, he scowled, covering it again with his jacket.
The carriage lurched forward, and she watched through the window as they left the building. The last thing she saw was the small saddlebag containing all her things, tossed against the far wall of the warehouse. Everything Nakir had bought her was now left behind. She drew in a deep, ragged breath, watching it disappear from view as they made their way down the streets of Aegea toward the southernmost gates. That bag contained everything she’d acquired since starting her new life, and tears pricked her eyes to see it so cruelly left behind.
“Ah. Stay away from the windows while we’re in the city, Princess.”
Alethea was forced to sit back, pinned by the stacking restrictions. Despite his orders, she could still see several men on horseback surrounding the carriage. Alethea counted six, all around the same age and build. Pale skin, dark robes.
Baumann enjoyed hearing himself talk and prattled on as they navigated the city streets. “My client was certainly willing to pay a steep price for you. Not many can afford my rates. Then again, not many can do what I do.”
She was little more than his captive audience. A part of her almost wanted to encourage him to keep speaking, to keep him monologuing, to give up an important detail that would allow her to figure some way out of this.
“But when you have unlimited resources, I guess gold means little to you in comparison to an Oracle.”
Alethea froze, swallowing the bile that rose in her throat. A gnawing realization gripped her heart: there was no going back. The revelation of her powers was now a permanent mark on her existence, etched into the annals of history.
“Cat’s outta the bag, innit? Word like that travels fast. Too bad you can’t talk. I bet you’d have a thing or two to say about your current predicament. I don’t pity you, I’ll tell you that much. Oh, and I’ve already sent word to the Aeshlien that you’ve left without him, so I wouldn’t count on a rescue.”
Would Nakir believe whatever messenger Baumann had sent? Hadn’t she already run away so many times now?
She opened her mouth but still couldn’t speak. She didn’t know how long his enchantment of her would last, and she sighed—inwardly—and turned away.
