Page 71 of The Truth-Teller's Bargain

Nakir finally rose from his armchair, coming to kneel beside her. He took her hand and held it in both of his as if she were something precious. “The gifts of an Oracle are incredible and awe-inspiring, but they can have terrible consequences. I’m sorry you had to see that.”

“I need you to live,” she confessed, adding swiftly, “for our plan to work.” But it wasn’t the whole truth. She needed him to live because she cared about him. He had shown her kindness when it had not benefited him; when it would have been better for him if he hadn’t. He could have easily used her powers to help overthrow her mother. She may not have even hated him much for it. But instead, he’d pushed her to protect herself; to only use them when necessary or when the Weave sent her a vision.

Nakir traced small circles against her hand with his thumb. “It has never been easy for me to accept help, but I want you to know that I am grateful for everything you’ve given. I can’t even begin to imagine what it would feel like to be in your place. My family’s throne was taken, and I dedicated the rest of my life to restoring their legacy, yet here you are, aiding in a rebellion that would take your own birthright.”

Alethea shook her head and let go a long, heavy sigh. “Maybea throne shouldn’t be a birthright. Maybe it should go to the one who is most fit to rule.”

Nakir captured her gaze. “What makes you think you aren’t fit to rule?”

Everything, her heart said. The burden of her mother’s legacy, the doubts that had always plagued her—they all echoed in her silence.

“What makes you think you are?” She hadn’t meant it to be callous or cruel. She half-hated herself for asking it aloud. But if Nakir was ruffled, he didn’t show it. He only regarded her quietly, his thumb running slow circles against the back of her wrist.

“Would you like to know a secret?” he asked, his voice just above a whisper.

She watched his long, dark eyelashes flutter as he glanced at her fingers before meeting her gaze again.

“I don’t. Not all the time, at least. This monumental task of taking back the throne and restoring the Hasan legacy was something I vowed when I was practically a child. People whose convictions were stronger than my own pushed me to seize this destiny. So I surrounded myself with people who see the deserving in me, who push me to be a better man, who hold me accountable for my mistakes and my ill-conceived notions. If Emi wasn’t willing to threaten my life for kidnapping a princess, if Dawes couldn’t tell me when we’d be wildly outnumbered and outmatched, if Balthasar... if he’d told me a choice I would make would cost me my honor, I would know I was in the wrong. My secret is, I’ve never been deserving of it, not for a single day... except for maybe once.” His eyes held a distant glimmer, lost in a memory he didn’t offer up.

She bit the inside of her lip. “When was that?”

His smile softened—a bittersweet expression. “It’s late. Get some rest. I’ll be right here,” he said gently, his thumb brushing her hand as he released his hold.

“Until I fall asleep?” she asked, her words barely audible in the quiet room.

“Yes.”

He settled back into the armchair, silhouetted by the flickering firelight. The room embraced her in its warm silence, and sleep found her moments later.

“The First Mother teaches this:

Every substance is a doorway,

but not every traveler returns the same.

Step lightly, child—pleasure is merely the gentlest path to revelation.”

—THE NOMAD’S GREEN BOOK, A WANDERING HERBALIST’S COMPENDIUM OF LILITHINE TEACHINGS

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Hunter’s Moon, Day 28.

When Alethea awoke, she immediately sat up, searching and confused when she wasn’t in the tent with Nakir. The events came rushing back to her, and she remembered their victory with the Great Lord and Lady Imanras.

And she remembered Nakir’s promise to stay with her until she fell asleep.

She blinked into the watery morning light, taking in her surroundings as her thoughts wandered to the Aeshlien. He wasn’t far. In fact, he was in the same position she last saw him: the armchair beside her bed.

“Good morning,” he bade her, his eyes wide open and fully alert.

Had he stayed theentirenight?

“Did you sleep?” she asked, full of concern.

“I did. Very well, actually.”

She couldn’t tell if he was teasing or being truthful. Alethea narrowed her eyes, her worry deepening. “You didn’t leave that chair.”