Chapter 6 #2
“My entire life. Ephesus was the only province in Lenorea they could find safe haven, and for some reason, my parents wanted to stay here. They couldn’t stomach being away for long.
Goran and my parents were close...” Nakir glanced up at her, his words slow and measured.
“His late wife died the day my parents were exiled. She was my mother’s last remaining family, the only official casualty of the coup. ”
Alethea swallowed. Both of Kerrigan’s parents had died because of the actions of her own.
“Sometimes, it wasn’t convenient or even safe for us to be in Sardes, in which case we would abscond to Rai’Sharr, but I spent most of my childhood and young adulthood there.”
Alethea couldn’t imagine being hunted across the country that had once bowed to you.
“I’m sorry about the Great Lord,” she told him sincerely. “And your parents.”
Nakir’s smile was soft, not reaching his eyes, as he swam on his back in circles before slowly treading toward her.
“Thank you. Goran was devoted to my parents and never let go of what was done to them, especially after their deaths. He held them so highly... It’s hard to imagine ever living up to such a legacy. ” His smile faded.
“What were they like?” Alethea asked him, swaying her feet from side to side in the warm water. Nakir’s voice was soothing, and she had the thought she could listen to him speak well into the night.
“My father was calm, even-keeled, difficult to rattle. He was a great champion of the downtrodden, the underdog. He could be stern with me, but he had a great sense of humor as well. Stubborn, but not nearly as much as my mother. My mother... Well, most others would describe her as strong, courageous. But the woman I knew was soft. Gentle, even. She was extraordinarily kind to me, no matter what trouble I caused. And she loved my father more than anything in this world.”
Jealousy panged through Alethea as Nakir described them in such great detail, wishing she could have felt a fraction of that maternal love.
“You sure you don’t want to come in?” he asked again, interrupting her thoughts.
She sighed, pursing her lips. She desperately wished for a swim, having come to this place to do exactly that—and to wash away the past few days.
“Fine. Turn around,” she demanded, only removing her clothes once she was confident he had.
She tied her hair up into a messy, tangled knot on top of her head before edging into the calm evening lake, letting the water reach all the way up to her neck.
“There,” she told him when she was mostly obscured.
Nakir turned back around, but she noticed how he kept a respectable distance.
A nervous awareness crept in all the same—of the darkness beyond the tree line, of Nakir’s proximity, of how entirely unguarded she was in this moment.
She kept her feet moving, searching for the bottom.
She was alone in a lake in the dark with a man she barely knew, and the strangest part was that it didn't frighten her the way it should have.
That frightened her instead.
“Your parents,” Alethea said, bottling her fear and returning to their conversation as she found her footing. “They sound... wonderful.”
Nakir chuckled and ducked his head back, wetting his hair and his horns as he gazed up at the moon. “Don’t get me wrong—we fought like any other family. But I had twenty years with them, and… We were close. You, on the other hand—”
Alethea’s gaze dropped to the inky lake, cheeks heating at the sudden shift as he swam closer.
“After we returned to the encampment and you fell asleep, Balthasar told me what he’d witnessed... in the interrogation chambers.”
Alethea crossed her arms, unable to meet his intense amber stare.
“What a poor little princess,” she replied with a roll of her eyes.
“She eats off gilded plates while people around the Realm starve, and she has the gall to cry about it.” She wasn’t going to pretend she’d had it nearly as hard as the people in her city.
He closed the distance, and a pair of gentle yet firm fingers lifted her chin so she was forced to look directly into Nakir’s eyes. His proximity made her cheeks warm, but she was held in place by his presence.
“Just because a cage is made of gold doesn’t make it any less of a prison. People who love you should never force you to give up a part of yourself to keep them safe.”
Unbidden tears pricked at her eyes, but Alethea wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of his words. “Not according to my mother,” she choked out. “Or Reingard Delaney.” Even speaking his name out loud proved challenging. Her stomach sank as she rolled her eyes, pushing the memories away.
Nakir went still. Just for a breath. “The Prince of Azmarin, heir to the Silver Throne. You know him?”
“I used to,” Alethea admitted, crossing her arms and brushing a stray leaf off her shoulder. “My mother once had great hopes of an alliance between our kingdoms.” She’d ruined that the same way she ruined everything.
Nakir’s head tilted slightly. “An alliance,” he repeated, thoughtful. “You mean a marriage.”
The words landed with uncomfortable accuracy.
“Yeah.” She looked away as memories of her summer in the eastern kingdom surfaced.
“What happened?” Nakir’s tone darkened, forcing her to look up into a face of deep concern.
“We met for the first time when I was twenty,” Alethea said quietly.
“He came to Hyelea on a royal visit. After that... we wrote to each other for years. He was... eloquent.” A faint, humorless smile touched her lips.
“Two years ago, we finally returned the visit to Azmarin. Our parents spent the entire summer anticipating a betrothal—it was all anyone could talk about.”
She thought of the dozens of letters tucked away beneath her bed, each one pulling her deeper beneath the surface of Reingard’s honeyed promises.
She remembered her days in the silver palace, surrounded by all the Delaney princes and princesses—so many voices, so much movement, a constant press of life she’d never known in Lenorea.
There had been galas and feasts that stretched late into the night, wine poured freely, laughter echoing through marble halls.
She had been swept along in it all, dazzled by the ease of belonging; by the novelty of a court that never seemed to sleep.
For a time, she mistook the noise for warmth and the attention for affection.
She’d let herself fantasize about a life there; of being accepted into a giant family. Of never being alone again.
Nakir relaxed, his eyes softening. “You cared for him.”
She wished her eyes wouldn’t betray her as they filled with tears. “Enough to think he would understand I... struggled with my mother’s demands.” She drew a steadying breath. “Instead, he told me—very clearly—I had a duty to my kingdom. That I was being childish for complaining.”
The words still stung.
“Azmarin is secular,” she went on, quieter now, “but the Delaneys are pious. He said my powers were a gift from the gods, and that refusing to use them for my kingdom was a sin.”
She admired faith. She always had. But she also knew where conviction, left unquestioned, could lead. The Hasan family had paid for it in blood.
“Zealots,” Nakir said, the word low and sharp as if it tasted bitter. “So you rejected him.”
Alethea shook her head as her voice thickened with shame. “Worse. I believed him. I figured if anyone understood the pressure of my situation, it was him.” She rubbed the back of her neck as she tried to turn her gaze to anywhere but Nakir. “He actually rejected me.”
“I find that hard to believe.” His conviction was so strong her heart skipped a few beats.
“Why is that?”
“Many reasons.” Nakir’s amber eyes burned as he watched her, a single brow rising as if she should already know the answer.
The temperature of the water seemed to rise several degrees.
What did it say that she wanted Nakir to believe she was desirable, even if only because she was a princess?
“What reason could he possibly have to reject you?”
Alethea tried not to think about how Reingard’s temper had flared when she voiced his prophecy. The way he’d wrapped his shaking hands around her throat and threatened that if she uttered another word, he would choke the very life out of her.
“People always say they want the truth,” Alethea told him, her head tilted back to look up at the stars.
“They think it will set them free, or help them reach enlightenment, or bring them closer to the gods. They think they want to know the truth when they ask me about their future or the past. They’re looking for their greatest hopes to be spoken aloud.
Why not ask the Oracle, they think? I told him the truth, and he hated me for it. ”
“What truth?” Nakir inched closer, dragging her attention from the stars to the chain around his neck—anywhere but those molten eyes.
She stared at his bare chest, his silver pendant, the dips of his collarbone, his dark horns, distracting herself for a moment while she searched for her elusive courage.
“It just came out. I don’t always have control.”
Nakir was close again—too close. Close enough she could feel the warmth of him through the damp air. Close enough that looking up at him felt like a mistake she’d been circling for days.
When she finally did, his brow was furrowed, dark eyes searching her face with an intensity that made something inside her buckle. It was too much. The concern etched into his expression. The way he was waiting. All of him.
Her foot slipped on the slick stone she’d been balancing on precariously, and she nearly plunged further into the water.
Nakir caught her instantly. His hand closed around her elbow beneath the surface, warm and bare against her skin, steady and sure. She reached for him without thinking, fingers sliding over his bicep, water beading and slipping between them as she held onto him to regain her balance.