Page 74 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain
Emi laughed dryly, but Alethea didn’t miss the sadness haunting her eyes. “I’m fighting in a rebellion. There’s little time for dalliances.”
Alethea wanted to ask about Dawes. She’d seen the way her friend looked at him, and the way he looked at her. But if Emi didn’t want to talk about it, Alethea wasn’t going to press the matter. Instead, she smirked, deciding to make an effort to raise Emi’s spirits. She twirled her dress, watching the way the silver threads glinted in the light. “You know, when I first came to camp, I somehow thought you and Nakir... well, that you two?—”
“Don’t tell me,” Emi interrupted, laughing again. “You thought he and I were together? Ohgods, no. He’s basically family. Besides, when it comes to men, I like them quite a bit older.”
Alethea thought of Dawes and Balthasar, both of whom were easily at least a decade or two older than her. Balthasar treated her with such respect and decency, and Dawes was warming up to her, of course—but it was difficult to imagine flirting with either of them.
“You can stay by me as much as you need to during the Revel,” Emi told her, drawing her out of her thoughts. “Or Nakir. He may not have magic anymore, but he’s more than capable of protecting you, even without a blade.” Emi caught her hand—and her attention, her blue gaze fixed on brown. “I mean it. Trust me when I say, Nakir would do anything to keep you safe.Anything. We both would. Balthasar too.”
But Alethea couldn’t think of anything she’d done to earnsuch affection and loyalty. “Thank you. I don’t know if it’s a good idea to try any substances... What if something happens?”
Emi laughed again, her playful energy infectious. “Something like... kissing someone you care about, who cares about you? What would be so bad about that?”
She blushed.
Emi gently let go of her hand and began removing her gown to change back into her white tunic and black leather tights. “Like I said, you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. But Revels are a place for magic, and for doing things you’re too afraid to do any other time. If you do decide to try something and you’re overcome with the urge to kiss someone,”—her tone turned playful—“you can find me.” Emi saw her sudden blush and smirked. “Unless you don’t like women that way. Though that would be a shame. But I suppose you could find Nakir or Balthasar. Either would happily indulge you.”
Her cheeks red-hot, Alethea tried to figure out why she could hardly string two words together to form a coherent sentence, much less respond to Emi’s offer. She stammered for a moment before collecting herself enough to form a reply.
“I think Balthasar is a little old for me,” she finally said, which just earned another laugh from her friend. She tried to push the thoughts away, determining Emi was only trying to get a rise out of her.
They purchased the dresses and made their way back to the camp to help with preparations. There was always something to do: people to feed, injured to tend, tents to mend, clothes to darn. The day passed entirely too quickly, and before Alethea knew it, she was standing outside Nakir’s tent long after the sun had set, aching and tired.
At this point, she should probably get her own—or find someone else to share with. She knew she couldn’t just keep sleeping in his cot. Alethea hardly realized she was just staring atthe entrance to the tent until it opened. Nakir stopped and studied her curiously.
“Coming to bed?” he asked. As if he were asking her something casual, like the weather, or how her day had gone.
Her lips parted to say something, to speak those thoughts that had been pestering her since she’d started her walk across the camp. But she noticed he once again had two cots prepared, and this time, they were only a few feet apart from each other.
“Yes,” she told him.
“I’ll only need the light for a few more minutes,” he promised as she slipped into the cot and nestled under the thick camping blanket.
She was so exhausted from work around camp that her bones ached. Nakir stood over his desk, where a few pieces of paper held his full attention. She watched him for too long—longer than she should have—trying to memorize the way his hair fell over his face and his brow furrowed, lips pursed, when he was thinking.
Alethea hated to admit it, but she already missed the fireplace and the solid walls of the castle. Her toes started to become painfully cold, and she longed for a more useful magic. Kerrigan certainly wasn’t shivering in her tent.
“Are you warm enough?” Nakir asked from across the room. He must have heard her teeth chattering.
Alethea groaned at his directness. He was finally learning how to take advantage of her inability to lie. “No,” she was forced to admit through gritted teeth.
Nakir chuckled and closed a few of the open tomes on his desk, blowing out the last few lamp lights. The tent was enveloped in darkness, and though she could no longer see him, she felt him shifting in the dark.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her tone bordering on panic.
“I’m going to help you get warm.”
Alethea inhaled sharply as he drew the covers back far enough to slide into the cot beside her. There was hardly room for both of them unless they were pressed right up against each other.
“Nakir, I—” She wanted to protest, but he was sowarm. Alethea drew in a sharp breath when she felt every part of his front against every part of her back.
“Tell me you don’t want me here, and I’ll leave.”
Alethea couldn’t. She took in a deep breath and let it go in a sigh, finally allowing herself to fully relax against him. He settled in as well, wrapping a heavy arm under her neck, and the other around her waist.
“Thank you,” she told him, nestling into her pillow and him.
“Of course.”
