Page 35 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
Another layer of grief washed over him, but he pushed it down, far away, where it could never hurt him. “Yes. Of course.”
“We will see each other again someday.” Roman reached out a hand. Nakir’s muscles trembled as he shook it in farewell.
And then, for the first time, he was truly alone.
Age of Upheaval, Y 218. Hunter’s Moon, Day 21.
Alethea thanked every one of the gods when Nakir did not treat her with any awkwardness the next day.
Inside the tent, Emi, Dawes, Balthasar, and Kerrigan clustered around the desk in their own distinct orbits. Emi had claimed one of the few seats, her golden skin warm in the morning light filtering through the canvas, the slight point of her ears visible beneath soft waves of brown hair that brushed hershoulders. Whatever softness she usually carried was absent. Her brown eyes were intent, serious, fixed on the map.
Dawes stood just behind her, broad frame blocking part of the light as he leaned in, muscled arms crossed. Silver threaded his beard and his hair, the latter pulled back into a tight knot, his expression steady and seasoned. He eyed Alethea carefully.
“Well, I’ll just come out and say it,” Dawes voiced. “The fact the princess is with us will bring complications. If we can keep her identity a secret, we may be able to outrun it... but if the news she’s here gets to the queen, we could be facing her forces imminently.”
Nakir crossed his arms, his fingers on his chin as he added, “We may be facing her forces soon regardless. Zenobia knows we’ve assembled against her, and we know how she deals with threats.” He stood at the center of it all, leaning back against the middle tent post, arms folded loosely as he observed in silence. He was utterly still, grounded, his presence anchoring the space without effort.
“We should strike her now,” Kerrigan suggested boldly. She stood apart from the rest, leaning against one of the tent poles several paces away. Tall and lean, she looked carved from muscle and impatience, red hair cropped close at the sides. Soot already smudged one cheek, her weapons at her side and within easy reach. “She doesn’t know we’re close. We could take the whole city of Hyelea in a matter of days if we bring in reinforcements.”
Nakir turned to his spymaster. “Balthasar, you spent time in the royal guard. What are your thoughts?”
Alethea eyed the large man, who hadn’t spoken since he greeted her upon his arrival. He didn’t answer right away, and her anxiety rose with each passing second.
Balthasar was lounging against the short side of the desk, umber skin catching the daylight, pale blond locs falling loose down his back. His dark eyes traced the map, but his attentionfelt elsewhere. “It would be bloody. We might be able to take it, but I don’t know how long we could keep it.”
Alethea winced, hands clasped tightly in her lap.Bloody. Most of the citizens in Hyelea didn’t even know how to fight and had no way of defending themselves.
“What about the citizens?” she found herself asking, and all eyes turned to her.
“Our forces know who they’re fighting and what they’re fighting for,” Dawes assured her. “They’re not going to be attacking people in the streets.”
Despite his promise, a swell of panic tightened her chest.
“If we don’t strike now, Zenobia will have time to go to the Empress,” Ker added. “She’ll get reinforcements from Rai’Sharr in a matter of weeks.”
“She’s already made her plea to the Empress,” Alethea stated, the words tumbling from her lips before she could stop them. She could feel Nakir’s stare from behind, and a flush colored her cheeks.
“It’s a risk to try to take Hyelea right now,” Nakir said. “But it would be a decisive ending.”
Dawes sighed, running a hand through his hair. “What other option do we have?”
Balthasar quietly turned to Alethea, his expression dark and inquisitive. His intense gaze bore into her, eyes searching for answers in the depths of her own. Alethea hesitated, her mind racing to find a response that could satisfy her beliefs and the pressing need for a solution.
“Do not pressure her, Balthasar.”
Nakir’s command took her by surprise.
“I’m not asking for her to prophesize. I’m curious about what she thinks.” The spymaster fully turned to her. “Alethea, what do you think?”
“I...” She swallowed, glancing at her lap before forcing herself to lift her chin. “There must be another way. A way that doesn’tbloody the streets of Hyelea. That’s how... that’s how my father did it, isn’t it? Showed up with an army he bought from Setta’s gold mines.” Alethea turned back to Nakir, whose jaw was firm as he listened. “What about the other Great Lords?” she asked. “Have they responded to your letters?”
“How the fuck does she know about the letters?” Ker’s tone was charged with suspicion as she shot her words across the room.
“You didn’t think we could write treason to the other Great Lords and Ladies without the Queen of Lenorea finding out, did you?” Nakir dismissed. After a moment, he added, “They haven’t responded.”
“They’re afraid,” Alethea told him, remembering her prophecy from interrogating Goran Arranil. “Maybe... maybe you could go to them. Speak with them face-to-face. Negotiate an alliance.”
Balthasar glanced at the map in front of them. “Well, we can count the Great Lady Osman of Setta out. That’s the queen’s sister and the former province of the Onasises.”
