The Best Deceptions
Victoria Pink
Text copyright© 2017 Victoria Pink
All Rights Reserved
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 1
The hot sun beams down upon her, but she sits completely still, facing south, as her servant dabs the beads of sweat from her temple with a damp cloth. The silken fabric of her light blue garment is beginning to slightly stick to her skin and, for once, she is glad for wearing the backless dress. The weak wind lightly pricks against her bare arms and the flesh of her back on the open balcony, giving her a small respite from the heat.
"Mother," she starts as her eyes sweep the barren horizon beyond the walls once more, "When is he due to be here?"
Constantine, dressed in a deep gold dress to match the crown on her dark hair, passes her empty goblet of wine off to a servant and then turns to face her daughter. "He?"
The slight breeze blows small curls around her face, and her brow scrunches curiously. "Yes…The Amadi?"
Her mother shakes her head.
"The Amadi is no man, my dear," Constantine says, reaching out to tuck a piece of her daughters golden hair neatly under the thin crown that, hopefully, will soon no longer be adorning her head.
Fiona's brow furrows deeper. The books in her father's study had never given a description of the leader—or had held much information of anything about this clan to be honest—but all leaders of all kingdoms are men. That is the way; that is a fact. And because of that, there has never been a need to ask for a description or think otherwise.
But now the panic starts to creep in. And it's not that she's scared of leaving her home—in fact, she welcomes it. She has never been accepted here. Never felt deeply rooted here. But there are beasts and creatures in this country that she could not, would not allow herself to be given to, and there's a chance her parents have arranged just that for the greater good of the people.
She takes a deep breath to maintain her façade of calmness, and looks into her chalice as she swirls around the deep ruby liquid around the sides . "Then…what would it be categorized as?"
"Don’t look so worried, dear. It’ll wrinkle your skin," Constantine replies, her face calm and unemotional, trained to give away nothing. “The Amadi is a woman.”
Her head instantly jerks up from the chalice. "You mean to say…you've promised me to a woman?"
Taking a grape off the platter carried by her, Constantine flippantly shrugs. "That's the Kaelan way, darling."
It isn't uncommon, or even frowned upon, for people to commit to those of the same sexes in the kingdoms, but never for those in noble standing. Heirs were expected to be produced, after all.
She struggles to maintain her breathing. From a young age, she has always imagined being wed in an ivory dress, followed by a feast in a banquet hall, and eventually sitting upon the throne as queen in one of The Greater Kingdoms with a somewhat tolerable king at her side.
Granted, that's not what she wanted, per say, but it is what she had always pictured for herself.
"But that is not our custom," she finally manages to reply, still deeply stunned that no one had even mentioned this in the months since the arrangement.
"And you'll no longer be one of us, my child." Constantine shifts on her ornately decorated chair. Her face morphs into complete seriousness as she faces her daughter. "You must do exactly as they do to keep the peace between us. It's all on your shoulders now. Don't let us down."
She worries at her lip with her teeth. "I know, Mother. But th—"
Her words are cut off by a guard walking onto the balcony. His armor is plated in silver so shiny that it's easy to see her own reflection in it; the green and white D’Argues' crest is prominent in the middle of the chest plate. Beads of sweat fall from his brow as he bows to them both before standing ramrod-straight. One hand rests on his sword. "The Kaelans have arrived, Your Majesty."
Looking back towards the south, Fiona sees them, hundreds of them, riding up towards the gates from the Fire Land on their horses. Even from here, she can see that the wooden transports and carriages are pulled by some of the largest and strongest men and women she has ever seen.
She looks back to Constantine with wide eyes, and her mother plasters on her best diplomatic smile. "Come on, darling. Your people await."
* * *
"Fiona D’Argues, daughter of King Benedict D’Argues from the Kingdom of Vatra," the Herald announces as she steps through the front archway of their castle.
Her people, former people, stand crowded along the main stairway as she descends down them with the King and Queen two steps behind her. She's sweating more now from nervousness as she approaches the largest, jet-black horse she has ever seen—standing at least a foot taller than the rest. The rider's hair is just as black and long and wild, and her muscles ripple as she drops from the horse to stand in front of where Fiona stops.
She's wearing clothes so unlike their own. A leather bandeau covers her breasts, her abs bare, and a short leather warrior's skirt covers her thighs. The minimum clothing to show the maximum skin, the maximum muscle and scars she possesses are worn proudly to threaten any enemies.
The woman looks dangerous, wild, but Fiona can't bring herself to look away.
There's a tension-filled moment of silence from everyone, including the crowd, as the woman looks down at Fiona with a brow scrunched in scrutiny. Fiona licks her lips and goes to speak, but in that moment, as she looks into the dark eyes staring back at hers, the few words of the foreign language she has learned escape her.
Finally, the dark and toned woman reaches out and gently pulls the silver crown from Fiona's head and holds it out to Constantine behind her. Fiona takes in a ragged breath. This could be either a good or very bad sign.
"I kutoa chake taji ya," the woman says as Constantine takes the coronet.
A woman with a tender face, younger than she, steps up from behind the Kaelan leader with a light smile that reaches her blue eyes. "She said she is going to give you the crown of our people now."
Fiona releases a shaky breath, followed by the smallest smile. Not because she's incredibly happy about being accepted, no, but because she's glad she hasn't failed her old and new people alike.
"Thank you, Amadi," she replies, bowing her head slightly.
The Amadi reaches out with two fingers and places them under her chin, lifting until Fiona is looking directly up at her. Her eyes give away nothing as she says something in the foreign tongue.
"She wants to know," the young woman translates from beside them, "if you would like to ride with her to camp for the night, or ride on your own."
Fiona tentatively looks to the large black stallion the leader rode in on, and back to expectant brown eyes waiting for an answer. "My own," she quietly says. "Please."
The Amadi yells something out loudly enough for all of her hundreds of people to hear. Immediately, me
n and women pull seven horses to line up in front of them. None are as large as the jet-black one the other woman commands, but all are magnificent in their own way, with different colored coats and manes and saddles alike.
"She says to take your pick," the young woman says. "And it will always be yours."
Her eyes scan the row of horses in front of her. A brown one with a white mane, a spotted one with the strangest pale blue eyes, a solid white one, a…silver one?
Never in all of her studies had she ever read or seen any mention of silver horses. Gray, but never silver. And here this one stands with a silver coat, silver mane, and even silver hooves. She turns to look at her parents, whose expressions match her own, before turning to walk towards it curiously.
She runs her hand down its muzzle and then looks at her palm. No silver has flaked off on her skin or rubbed off the horse in any way. It's no trickery. The horse is truly silver, and unlike anything she's ever seen before.
Maybe she actually could learn more from this supposedly savage clan than she has originally thought.
Looking over her shoulder to the young woman, she smiles, truly smiles, for the first time since the Kaelan arrival as she strokes the silver horse's mane. "May I have this one?"
Almost instantly, strong hands are clamped around her waist and she's hoisted into the air and gently placed on the saddle. She looks down to the dark haired leader in surprise. A delightful shiver tingles down her spine.
She may be light, but to be lifted in to the air so easily? Truly a feat of strength.
The Amadi leaps up onto her own stallion in one smooth movement and grabs the reins in her hands. Before they start their long journey across the Fire Land, she looks over to Fiona—their new Queen, their Enzana—and smiles for the first time. It's small and tight-lipped, but it's genuine and reaches her dark eyes.
And as they ride off to the sound of a cheering crowd, Fiona can't seem to look away from the ferociously beautiful woman beside her.
Chapter 2
They rode for two hours before the grassy land gave way to the hot and barren Fire Land desert with sand so white the glare physically hurt. Fiona reaches up with one hand to wipe the sweat from her face as they continue to ride at the slow pace which she is sure is solely for her sake.
The Amadi shifts her horse close enough to hold out a soft, silken cloth to her. "Hot, isn't it?"
Fiona gasps. "You know the common language?"
"Who doesn't?"
She pushes back some of the sweaty strands of hair from her face, and licks her parched lips. "Why did you speak none before?"
"Were you…" The woman pauses, searching for the right words as she looks back towards the desert. "Intimidated?"
"Yes," she replies honestly. She had never been so intimidated or borderline terrified in all her life as she was when she was looking up at the woman who held her future in her hands.
The Amadi barks out a quick laugh. "Then that's why."
"That wasn't very kind," she whispers with a frown.
"Well we aren't known for being nice," the woman replies with a smirk, her hair slightly billowing as they ride. "Want to know a secret?"
She looks up, inquiringly—unsure if this is some joke or in all seriousness. She's never been good at telling the difference anyway.
"Yes," she finally replies.
"Learn our language," the Amadi starts and points over her shoulder, "And they might actually start to like you."
She glances back towards the hundreds behind them, before looking back to the Amadi. "Will you teach me?"
"No."
"But—"
"There's no time for questions right now," the woman cuts off, firmly. "We need to set up camp before your skin burns even more. You're white as goat's milk."
She gasps and starts to protest, but then the woman reaches out and pulls her shoulder strap aside just far enough to show the contrasting color of where her skin had been shaded. "See? You're not ready to be in the sun for so long."
Her eyebrow raises, and she shifts to sit straighter on the horse. "If you're insinuating that I did nothing but sit inside all day for my 23 years, then you are mistaken."
The woman drops from the horse and looks up at her with a glint in her eyes. "Your pasty skin says otherwise," she smirks—teasingly, Fiona thinks—before leading everyone over to set up the camp.
* * *
Even she, who was used to growing up with men that would give everything they had to fulfill her every request, was surprised at how quickly they had built camp for a gathering of two hundred people. Her tent, surprisingly, had been erected first and was only belittled by that of the feasting tent.
She had been urged to go inside immediately to get out of the sun and rehydrate herself, and she had been surprised by the contents of what would seem to be a ragged shelter. The inside was spacious and held a bed covered in thick bear skin blankets, a chair that was easily made of finer wood than some from her own castle, ornate rugs from different kingdoms, a metal firepit placed in a corner for warmth should she become cold in the desert night.
But that was hours ago and the sun had already set. She was doing nothing but pacing around the tent out of boredom and uncertainty. Is she allowed to leave her tent? Ask for more food? Should she go see Amadi? Try to learn more about her? The culture?
These customs and traditions are different than her own, and she knows absolutely no one. Not really, anyway. And she hates being unsure, so unknowledgeable of something. So feeling like this…this is not something she is comfortable with in the least.
Right as her eyes start to water, the tent door flaps open and, startled, she jumps. The Amadi walks in front of her with an unreadable face, but a playful glint in her eyes.
The woman walks to the table and picks up a pouch to begin pouring a dark, maroon liquid into a chalice. "Wanataka baadhi myvinyo?"
Her eyes snap up from the crystal glass and she shakes her head. "Pardon?"
"Myvinyo?" She repeats, holding the wine towards Fiona.
"Are you not going to use the common tongue?"
"You need to learn my language," Amadi states, taking a drink of the wine Fiona had refused. "Don't use yours unless it's in private now."
Her brow knits. "Why not?"
"To keep you safe," the dark haired woman says as she walks over to stand in front of her. "I wasn't trying to be mean earlier. You're foreign and my people don't trust easily. The sooner you are like them, the better it'll be for you."
Her eyes flick from the woman's lips to dark eyes. "But if you aren't going to teach me, how am I to learn? No one else will talk to me without looking down at their feet!"
The Amadi softly chuckles at the slight outburst.
"At sunrise, I'll send someone. She'll teach you all that you need to know to stand by my side," she says, reaching out to lightly touch Fiona's cheek. "To be liked. To be called a true Kaelan."
Her eyes well up with tears once again. To be liked. What she wouldn't give to be liked.
She nods and tries to graciously smile and pull back her emotions into her trained, calm demeanor. "Thank you, Amadi."
The woman smiles fully at that and drops her hand from Fiona's cheek. "Why do you always call me that?"
"Because it's your title," Fiona says with a tilted head.
"And your title is now Enzana, but I can call you Fiona, can't I?"
She tentatively nods. "If that's what you prefer."
"It is," the woman reaches out and tucks one of the light hairs that has slipped from Fiona's braids back behind her ear. "You're my wife now, Fiona. I know you may not want to be, but what's done is done," she pauses, her dark eyes studying Fiona's face closely before dropping her hand once again. "Call me Nadira now."
The ceremony and feast were to be later, but as of now…she was already Nadira's wife in the Kaelan sense of the word. And of that, she had almost forgotten. There were duties to be done; universal duties that even the Kaelans surely adhere to.<
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"Yes, Nadira," she finally whispers, her gaze holding strong with Nadira's own.
Then she does what she thinks is expected and pushes the dress straps off her shoulders. The fabric pools around her feet leaving her completely, starkly naked in the fire-lit room. Nadira's eyebrows shoot up and then, she takes one step back. Blood rushes to Fiona's face, she's unsure if it's from the scrutiny or something else, as Nadira starts to slowly circle around her over and over, reaching out every so often to lightly touch her back, her arm, her stomach.
Nadira finally comes to a stop in front of her, eyes soft as she reaches out to tilt Fiona's face up. "Nohealani," she says, and starts gently walking Fiona back towards the bed. "A beauty from the gods."
It was not the first time Fiona had been complimented for her beauty—far from it—but it had never been said so genuinely before; the compliment had never instantly made her blood burn hot and rush to her face, never made her lips part in an attempt to drink in the words and savor them.
The backs of her knees hit the firm mattress and she lies back upon it with a small gasp, surprised when Nadira only starts to pull a bearskin blanket over her naked body.
Nadira smiles at her slight confusion and reaches up to smooth the wrinkled from her forehead. "It gets cold at night when your skin is burnt."
It only adds to her confusion. "We aren't going to consumate?"
Nadira drops her head and tries not to laugh at the bluntness; the bewilderment clearly written on Fiona's face. "Is that what you really want to do? With someone you hardly know?"
"I…" The words her mother spoke ring clear in her head. Keep the peace. "Whatever pleases you."
"That's courteous, Fiona, but doesn't answer my question," Nadira starts, looking back up in solemnity. "I may be considered barbaric, but I won't do anything until you are ready."
She looks into the dark eyes and sees the compassion, the honestly. Tender and kind. She rests her head back against the pillow—relieved. With any other arrangement it wouldn't have matter what she had or had not have wanted. Her opinion wouldn't even have been asked.
The Best Deceptions: A Lesbian Medieval Fantasy (Deception Series Book 1) Page 1
