“And you overestimate my continued will to be your servant and spy."
For a moment, neither moved. She wondered what he was thinking. If he could see through her lies about Nadir and knew it was an act.
But he poured her a cup of wine, and as she took it, a pass of mutual understanding settled between them.
"I will have men stationed around every inch of that tent," he told her. "If you or he tries anything, I will not hesitate to kill both of you."
Nyssa almost laughed. "If you think any of your idiotic Porters will be paying attention to anything other than jerking themselves off at the sound of my screams, you're just as much of an idiot as they are," she said darkly.
"Someone thinks well of herself," Bechmen amused.
"You saw the marks on my neck when I first arrived," she said, chin rising. "What do you think?"
The Noble contemplated her another moment. "I think my Prince will like you."
He pushed off the table then and took her cup, pausing to stare down his long nose over her. "Quinn will stand guard," he decided. "And tomorrow, you'll serve my men in nothing more than that fur scarf the trader sold for your fuck. Luka will like that."
CHAPTER FORTY
NYSSA PACED INSIDE the tent. An anxiety she couldn’t get rid of swept through her bones. She was repeating in her head her instructions for later—to put on a show so that Quinn reported it back to the Noble that Nyssa had pleased the trader well.
Nyssa knew the moment she saw Nadir, her mind would blank.
When the door opened and Nadir walked in, her heart caved in on itself, and she forced her knees to stay upright.
He started to bolt to her, but Nyssa forced her feet firm. "Wait!" All she could see were yellow eyes. "I need you to tell me something only the real Nadir knows about me. Something... Something you and I have shared together."
"What?" Nadir managed, shoulders sinking.
"Just do it," she begged. "Please."
Nadir swallowed, and she could see his mind searching for anything. "Ah...Fuck... Okay... To wanting what we can't have," he finally managed.
Her jaw began to quiver, and the tears dripped down her cheeks. "Nadir..."
She bounded to him.
He caught her, swung her up off the ground and into his arms. Clenching her as though he feared she would disappear if he let her go. The pain of him squeezing her wounds made her wince, but she didn't care. She buried her head into his neck. Her entire body trembled, and it was hardly a moment before he sank to his knees, still holding her, his hand stroking the back of her head, other clenching her waist. She sobbed into his embrace, unable and unwilling to keep up her composure in front of him—not giving a damn about the facade she was supposed to be wearing.
Because this was Nadir.
And he'd found her.
“Hello, Princess,” he whispered into her hair.
“Hello, Commander.”
For a short while, they simply held each other. Nyssa was desperate for him to be real and for her not to be dreaming. She let her tears fall down her cheeks and soak his shirt, his tears doing the same to her.
“Is this real?” she managed.
He squeezed her waist, and finally, he pulled back. It was the first time they’d truly seen each other since the night they'd given one another up. His eyes were as swollen as hers, and she pressed her hands to his cheeks.
"Are you real?" she said again, her voice cracking with every syllable.
He reached up, pushed her hair from her eyes, and he breathed, “I’m not sure,” in a voice so rasp-filled and choked, she broke in his arms again.
For however long they sat and cried in one another's arms, Nyssa wasn't sure. Because for the first time in weeks, she wasn't alone. She was back in her own world once more and not drowning in the nightmare of her surroundings.
