Chapter 15 #2
“We were able to help them liberate a fair spread of it,” Nakir continued, his words laced with quiet defiance.
Alethea stared at him, realization dawning that this was what they were doing so close to the capital on the night they found her in the woods.
“But I doubt the queen will respond better in the event of a larger crisis,” Nakir added gravely.
Alethea didn’t want to imagine what her mother would do, but she knew it would be brutal and without mercy.
Another long pause hung in the air before Lady Yara took a slow sip of her wine and focused her full attention on Nakir.
The weight of her gaze was palpable, as if she were trying to read his very soul, searching for answers buried deep within.
“Your mother and I were friends once, a very long time ago now. When you were born...” She sighed, some of her stoic composure dropping, revealing a vulnerability Alethea had never witnessed from the Great Lady.
“I was as easily frightened as the rest of them. Now we have children of our own... and time has revealed to us the error of our ways.”
Her expression was heavy as she studied Nakir without criticism or judgment. If anything, her eyes were haunted. “You look just like her, you know. Your mannerisms are all your father, but I would know those eyes anywhere,” she added, her voice carrying the unmistakable sound of sorrow.
Alethea wished she had met Lazaros and Evanthia, even just once.
Nakir said nothing. His jaw tightened once, and then he was composed again.
Time stretched as Lady Yara regarded him in silent consideration.
“Meseira will stand with you, and in exchange...”—she leaned forward, her voice dropping to a solemn whisper—“you will forgive us for betraying your parents in their time of need. And accept my condolences for their passing.” Lady Yara and Nakir’s gazes locked as she announced her decision.
“We are not supporters of vengeance in this household, but if anyone deserves it, it is you.”
Nakir tried to offer a smile, but Alethea could see the past still haunting him, the shadows woven into the lines of his face. They were all surrounded by ghosts—lingering reminders of the choices made, the paths taken, and the prices paid.
“Thank you, Lady Imanras. You honor us—and them,” Nakir said, the words resonating in the quiet of the hall like a solemn oath.
Myron immediately raised his glass with a jovial smile, clearly trying to lighten the darkened mood. “Well, I say!” He took a big sip before leaning toward Alethea, his eyes curious and sparkling with interest. “What about you, Princess? What will you do after all this?”
Alethea hesitated for a moment, her gaze shifting between the faces around the table. The gravity of Myron’s question settled upon her shoulders, reminding her of the uncertain future that lay ahead. She took a moment to collect her thoughts before offering a soft, pleasant smile.
“Well, I won’t exactly be a princess anymore, my Lord.”
Myron seemed unhappy with her answer, his brows knitting in contemplation.
Nakir interjected, raising his glass to her, surely saving her from whatever Lord Myron was about to say.
“Alethea will be free to do as she chooses. She has risked everything to help us, and there is no way I could possibly repay her for her services. Whatever is it that she desires will be hers, to the best of my ability.”
The Great Lord waggled his eyebrows at her playfully. “Well, our home is open to you, if you ever find your way back here!”
Myron’s promise was sweet, and Alethea thanked him graciously.
“Or maybe you’ll find a reason to stay in Hyelea.” The waggle of Myron’s brow toward Nakir had her blushing behind her wineglass. “It is your home, after all.”
“We would welcome her presence anytime she wishes to grace us with it,” Nakir added smoothly, unfazed by Myron’s teasing.
Her stomach turned as she was forced to think about what life might be like after the rebellion was over.
She certainly wouldn’t have her rooms in the castle anymore—a thought that made an ache settle in her chest. Nakir had promised her financial freedom, but did that include a place to put her things?
Perhaps she should bring it up to him next time they had a chance to speak.
“Nysos surely blessed this meeting!” Myron beamed, holding tightly to his goblet.
“That brings me to our next order of business, as it were! To seal this deal, you will attend the Revel we’re hosting.
Bring your officers, enjoy the evening.” The Great Lord’s energy was infectious, but Alethea searched the faces of her companions for any explanation. ,
“A Revel?” she asked quietly.
“You’ve never heard of Revels?” Myron placed a hand over his heart. “A Revel is a festival held in honor of Nysos.”
She was aware of the god Nysos, the god of music, love, and revelry; they were one deity of many in the great pantheon, each with their own followers and their own domain.
Nysos’s was peace—and hedonism, if the Revels were any indication—which was perhaps one of the reasons her mother had such particular disdain for them.
Zenobia had little patience for the gods at the best of times, but a deity who preached surrender to pleasure and stillness was an affront to everything she stood for.
“We hold them every few years in the gardens. I can’t think of a better way to seal our alliance than for us to celebrate together at the Revel.”
Alethea glanced at Nakir, whose smirk was barely contained.
“A Revel lasts all hours of the night. They’re known for their incredible displays of magic and craft, bonfires, dancing.
It’s a particularly sacred event for Nysos, where one can enjoy delicacies and delights of every kind from all across the Realm.
” He turned to Myron, giving a respectful inclination of his head. “We would be honored to attend.”
The rest of dinner passed in much the same way. There were a few more stately discussions, but Alethea spent her time avoiding Myron’s knowing gaze and his obvious hints she should find a way to stay in Lenorea after the rebellion was over.
By the time the last course had been cleaned from the table, her stomach was pleasantly sated, but weariness tugged at her limbs as she tried not to sink into her chair.
She anticipated the comfort of her bedroll at camp, but the Great Lord and Lady Imanras, in a gesture of hospitality, offered each of them a room in the keep.
Nakir graciously accepted the offer on their behalf.
Another thirty minutes of pleasantries were exchanged, Balthasar and Nakir effortlessly filling the conversational gaps Alethea’s exhaustion left. The Imanrases shared stories of their own youth, telling tales of Revels past and even a few sentimental stories about Nakir’s parents.
Finally, dinner came to an end, and they were shown to their rooms. The doors to their chambers stood adjacent to one another, promising proximity and security.
Balthasar bade them good night, and Alethea watched the spymaster close his door silently behind him.
Her tentative hand rested on the doorknob of her own chamber, but she hesitated and glanced up to find Nakir’s intense stare upon her from across the hall.
“Is everything all right?” he asked, and she offered a polite smile, not entirely sure of the answer.
“I am quite tired... It’s been a long day,” she said, her voice carrying the exhaustion she felt.
“Agreed.” He glanced at his own door for a moment before speaking again. “Thank you for what you did today. This victory is because of you.”
Alethea had a hard time accepting that, but she chose to believe him regardless.
His confidence in her abilities never failed to amaze her.
“I’m glad I could help without, you know...
” She’d never considered herself useful outside her powers, but Nakir had put his faith in her beyond the magic in her veins.
Another silence passed, this one less comfortable.
“I should... go to bed,” Alethea stated uselessly.
“Of course,” he replied. “Have a good night, Thea.”
“You too,” she said softly, yet still she lingered in the doorway.
Neither of them moved.
Alethea couldn’t help a small, awkward smile. “Are you... waiting for me?” she asked, peeking up at him through her hair.
“I am,” he admitted, his gaze unwavering.
He was so imposing, standing there across the hall from her, his tall figure towering even from a distance.
She was arrested by his amber gaze; by the tenderness she found there.
In the soft glow of the hallway lantern, his eyes appeared almost ethereal, like endless pools of gold.
Despite the weariness etched into his expression, there was a determination that burned fiercely within him.
She let her fingers fall from the door handle, turning toward him.
“I...” She faltered. “I’m not sure about the idea of...
sleeping alone.” She had slept alone every night of her life until meeting Nakir—it was silly to be so unhappy about being apart from him, especially when she had little idea of his feelings for her.
She chanced a look up at him to try to ascertain if he thought her as foolish as she thought herself to be, but his expression had softened.
“I could stay with you until you fell asleep.”
It was a kind offer that sent butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She bit the inside of her cheek and nodded, finally opening the door to her chambers.
The room was quite generous. The flickering glow of the hearth cast warm, dancing shadows across the walls, creating a cozy ambiance.
A large four-poster bed, adorned with Lenorean white and cerulean, stood as the room’s centerpiece on the western wall, promising a night of decadent sleep.
The double doors led to a small balcony, where she could see the twinkling lights of the city streets below.