Page 8 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
What could it mean? Her mind raced with thoughts of the brewing rebellion, but she refused to believe all her mother’s scheming and preparations would be for nothing. And if her mother chose to pass on the crown to her heir...
Panic filled her.
It wasn’t as if Alethea had spent much time imagining herself queen. The thought had never truly taken root, not when her mother had never once treated her as an heir, nor spoken to her as one. Since her father’s passing, she’d been taught nothing of governance or how to hold authority. Her only education had come through the pain of forced prophecy after prophecy, each lesson a fresh wound. Her mother’s six ministers were all incredibly powerful in their own right. They knew the system, manipulated it effortlessly, while she barely understood the rules of their deadly game.
Once, she had secretly aided her mother’s newly appointed Minister of Justice to bring down one of the most notorious crime lords in the kingdom, only to watch the man walk away without consequence. The advisors would do whatever they needed to line their own pockets, and while their wealth grew, Lenorea’s poorest begged for scraps.
She had never been taught to lead. She had been taught to obey, to endure, to disappear. A queen needed to be made of sterner stuff than that, and whatever stern stuff she might have had, her mother had long since taken it from her.
Alethea’s panic rose as she looked to Millicent. She wished she could speak plainly with her old friend, to beg her not to tell the queen what she’d heard, but the princess was no fool. The queen would hear of this the minute her handmaiden left her chambers.
“I need to be alone,” she blurted out. It was the only thing she could think to say in the moment to get them to leave.
Talia took the social cue with grace, curtsying before she left the rooms.
Millicent stayed behind, though Alethea could barely face her.
“Allie,” the young woman started, but Alethea shook her head. She wouldn’t tolerate it. The pet name only reminded her of what she’d lost the day Millicent chose the queen over their friendship.
“No,” she told her, fighting a nervous breakdown. “Leave me. Go and do what we both know you must.”
“I... I can help you.” Millicent took a hesitant step toward her.
How could Alethea even dare to believe her, after what had happened between them?
“It... doesn’t have to be this way for you. I know someone who could help, if you’d just?—”
“I already learned my lesson about trusting you,” Alethea shot back, tears welling in her eyes. She couldn’t listen to another word from Millicent’s mouth.
Her handmaiden lifted her chin in stoic resignation. “You know where to find me, Your Highness.” She finally departed.
Alone, Alethea paced the sitting room, struggling to catch her breath as the hysteria overwhelmed her. Each inhale was like a dagger in her chest, the room, once her sanctuary, now smothered with tension and unanswered questions. A part of her desperately wanted to force another vision, to delve into the depths of her mystical abilities in the hopes of unraveling her prophecy. But she was still far too weak to access that well, her reservoir of magic that had once flowed freely now reduced to a mere trickle.
All she knew was that she couldn’t stay here, where the silk-lined walls were slowly closing in on her. She yearned for theopen sky, the whispering winds—anything other than the stifling confines of her chambers.
Most of all, she missed her father.
No. She couldn’t stay. Urgency gripped her tightly, a primal instinct compelling her to escape; to get away from the castle and everything haunting her. Each beat of her frantic heart urged her to flee; to leave behind the stifling corridors and the suffocating expectations.
It wouldn’t be the first time she’d snuck out of the castle. Alethea had long ago discovered an abandoned servant’s entrance to her tower and made the wise decision never to tell another living soul. The crumbling spiral stairwell had many exits, but the final door at the very bottom opened to the back side of the stables.
After her father died, the royal stables offered Alethea a rare place of solace. She’d spent many evenings sitting with the horses, breathing in the nostalgic smells and reminiscing on the riding lessons from her childhood. It had been more than a year since she’d snuck out of the castle. The last time proved disastrous enough for her to never want to leave her rooms again.
But she knew she had to go.
The late afternoon had turned chilly, autumn’s wind whipping at her dark, hooded cloak and reminding her of the looming deadline she’d just foretold as she paced toward the stables. She prayed the plain brown cotton dress would be enough to disguise her. Even her pale golden-blonde curls were braided tightly to her head and tucked into a cap.
Alethea had no real plan as she saddled and bridled a young chestnut mare; she just needed space from the castle to clear her head. Her heart ached as she remembered how she and her father would ride off into the northwestern forest outside the castle grounds whenever one of them had had a hard day. They would ride as far as they dared before finding a place to rest and simply exist together, either under the shade of a tree or on theshore of a lake. She longed for those long conversations by the water, where they could escape from whatever was troubling them together, even if only for a short while. Sometimes, she dreamed he would meet her there again, his easy smile and gentle words a balm for her weary soul.
She gave in to the call of the forest.
“Just a short ride,” she promised the striking young mare, but she trembled as she patted the horse’s powerful shoulder before they exited the stables.
Alethea tucked closer to her steed as she led the horse toward the western gate of the castle grounds. All she had to do was make it through the arches and she’d be free to roam as she pleased. She passed well enough for a servant in her plain clothes, and no one had any reason to stop her. Besides, the guards were more concerned with people getting into the castle grounds than out of them.
As they finally passed under the towering arches of the western gate, a surge of relief washed over her, momentarily stealing her breath. The expanse of the city stretched out before her, a mosaic of bustling streets and lively markets, in stark contrast to the confined opulence of the palace. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself a nearly imperceptible smile, wishing that one day she could find a way to walk away from the city—and its stifling palace—for good.
Once she was in the clear, Alethea mounted her horse and drew the hood of her cloak tighter before carefully navigating through the north side of the capital city. She could already taste the briny sea air from the white cliffs to the east. She thought of the dozens of ships docked in the bay there, bringing commerce from the three other kingdoms—Wolfecrest, Azmarin, and Rai’Sharr.
