The Best Deceptions: A Lesbian Medieval Fantasy (Deception Series Book 1)

by Victoria Pink

  Nadira pats her hands and then picks up the reins. "Now you're ready," she says as they finally start to leave. "I don't want you falling on that pretty face of yours."

  She picks up on the teasing and pinches the skin beneath her fingers until Nadira squirms. "I would've been sure to pull you down with me."

  "That's so courteous of you," Nadira retorts, biting back a laugh. "You may just turn out to be one of us yet."

  She smiles to herself. Being accepted—despite it being to a group she had first thought to have nothing in common with—makes her heart seemingly soar in her chest. It's a feeling that she's never once, not even with those deemed like her, ever felt.

  She tentatively leans forward and rests her forehead against Nadira. Nadira doesn't tense, doesn't say anything about it really—only reaches up to squeeze Fiona's hand in acknowledgment— so she relaxes into it; pressing her cheek fully to lean on Nadira's back.

  "Tell me something about yourself," Fiona quietly says, the lull of the horses gait making her sleepier than she should be at this hour.

  Nadira looks around them to make sure the torch-carriers riding beside of them are out of earshot. No need for anyone to hear her going soft.

  "Well...I have a mother and three brothers."

  She grins as she pictures Nadira as a child, surely running around and playing with her siblings. That's an experience that, unfortunately, Fiona was never granted to have. Perhaps having someone like herself around to talk with would've made things easier for her…but there's no reason to conjure up silly what-ifs now.

  "What are their names?"

  "Aleesi is my mother. Bolo, Gerod, and Francesco are my brothers."

  Her head tilts, confused. "Those don't sound very Kaelan."

  "My mother was obsessed with Darmuth for a while. She liked their food and named my brothers after the famous cooks," she laughs. "But don't bring it up. Francesco is touchy about it."

  "Bad temper?"

  "Whiney temper is more like it," Nadira says, a hint of smile in her voice. "Loyal, though."

  "And Bolo?"

  Nadira shrugs. "I haven't seen him in a while. He's probably gotten himself in trouble again."

  Realizing it's a touchy subject, she chooses not to reply. The silence lingers and Nadira finally clears her throat. "What about you? Anything you'd like to share?"

  She ever so slightly tightens her grip on Nadira's waist—the toned abs flexing underneath her hands with every sway of the horses gait. "What would you like to know?"

  "Your favorite color, your favorite food...anything. Everything," Nadira says, before clearing her throat and lightening up her tone. "You're going to be stuck with me for a while, after all."

  She smiles against Nadira's back at the accidental softness. "My favorite color is red, although I'm not sure why I have a preference towards it. I like to eat spiced plums—

  "-and drink wine," Nadira interrupts, a smile obvious in her voice. "Lots of wine."

  She laughs softly. "Yes, I do enjoy wine."

  "Do you like beer?"

  She recalls the watered down ale she had first tried when she was no more than twelve. It smelled putrid and tasted even worse after it had passed her lips.

  Her nose scrunches. "Not really, no."

  "Well you've never had our beer," Nadira says with a hint of pride in her voice. "You'll love it."

  "Perhaps."

  "Don't believe me?"

  She smiles at the hint of teasing in Nadira's voice. "Considering I've never liked any I've had before, there's a good chance I won't enjoy it in the least."

  "But you've never had ours," Nadira retorts. "Once you taste it…you'll be begging for more."

  She rolls her eyes. "Are you always so crude?"

  "Crude?" Nadira faux gasps. "I was just talking about our beer!"

  "Mhm," she hums playfully in reply.

  There's a long silence where she's nearly sure Nadira is done talking for the night and her eyes grow heavy; her cheek sticking to the leather of Nadira's bandeau as the horse sways as they continue on. But Nadira interrupts by clearing her throat.

  "Do you miss it?

  "Home? Yes," she replies truthfully. "A little."

  Nadira sighs. "I'm sorry."

  The guilt is clear in Nadira's voice, and Fiona shakes her head. "Don't be. I may miss home, but I don't miss the people."

  "Not even your parents?"

  She's filled with guilt that feels so very unwarranted considering how poor her relationship had been with them. "I know I probably should, but…"

  She trails off and Nadira reaches up, her thumb idly running across Fiona's knuckles. "You don't have to talk about it."

  "I know," she sighs. "It's simply…it's hard to miss someone that isn't missing you."

  "I'm sure they—"

  "They don't," she replies with finality. Because it's true and she knows it to be true. There's no need to try and fool herself.

  "Well my mother will love you," Nadira responds with a light laugh to lighten the mood. "She'll like having someone to fuss about."

  "She can't fuss over you?"

  "Gods no," Nadira exclaims. "I don't wear dresses and I hate people nagging me about it."

  She laughs. Never had she met a woman quite so complex and interesting as Nadira.

  "May I ask you a question?"

  "Nothing's stopped you before."

  She rolls her eyes. Nadira has to be the most teasing flirt she had ever met.

  "If you are defeated and don't give your life, what happens?"

  Nadira shakes her head. "I wouldn't stop without giving everything I had."

  "You may not," Fiona starts, "but say another Amadi lost and still survived. What would happen to them?"

  Nadira looks to the torch carriers at their sides and then shakes her head. "Let's not talk about that right now. Aren't you tired?"

  And at the mention, she instantly yawns. "Yes, it seems that I would benefit from some rest."

  "Well why don't you sleep? Still afraid?" Nadira asks, reaching down and squeezing Fiona's knee. "I'm not going to let you fall, Fiona. Promise."

  "I know." She pauses. "But maybe I just enjoy talking to you," she adds in a sleepy whisper before dozing off.

  Chapter 6

  "Fiona?"

  She groans, clenching her eyes shut and pulling herself more fully against the delightful warmth at her front.

  "Fiona?"

  "Mmm," she groans. "Tired."

  Forgetting where she is, she shifts to get more comfortable. Immediately, she teeters on the back of the horse and her eyes fly open at the sheer terror of the falling sensation. Nadira reaches out last second to grab her arm and steady her.

  "Easy there," Nadira laughs, "It's too early to land on your head."

  She takes a few deep breaths to calm herself and looks around. The dark sky is streaked with pinks and red, and the sun is nearly about to peek over the horizon. "How long was I asleep?"

  "Only a couple of hours," Nadira replies. "But you can get back to your beauty sleep as soon as we stop."

  They set up a camp only minutes later. The tents are slightly less elaborate than before due to exhaustion, and she isn't allowed to help. Instead, she stays in the shade of Nadira's horse with a servant, that Nadira made sure she had, to fan her lest she get hot while everyone else works.

  When it's done she goes into her tent that this time only has a bed. No need for a firepit when the temperatures would be brutally hot within hours. She lowers herself to the bed for a few hours of rest, but finds herself tossing and turning, wide awake and unable to shut off her brain.

  She's used to being alone. In fact, her life was generally spent alone in libraries and alchemy shops with the only exception being feasts and banquets she was required to go to. But she never felt this…lonely as she does lying in the bed by herself. And, oddly enough, it's not as comfortable as she was sleeping on a horse, pressed against Nadira's back.

  She finally gets up e
nough nerve to stand from the bed and walk across the already blazing hot sand to Nadira's tent. She stands outside of it long moments—catching more than a few judgmental glances from guards—before finally deciding to step inside. "Nadira?"

  There's a muffled groan from the lump on the bed as Nadira rubs her eyes and forces herself to sit up. Her eyes slowly crack open and when she sees it's Fiona, she attempts to scramble to her feet. "What's wrong? Did someth—"

  "It's nothing," she interrupts, pressing a hand to Nadira's shoulder so she sits back down on the bed. She worries her lip between her teeth and sighs as she looks into worried eyes. "I couldn't sleep."

  Nadira reaches out and grasps Fiona's fingertips gently with her own. The contrast is strong, like night and day pressed together. "What can I do?"

  She knows the answer, but doesn't know how to say it. So she says nothing instead until she is forced to glance away from those concerned, brown eyes.

  Nadira gently squeezes her fingertips again until she looks back up. "Do you want to stay with me? Will that help?"

  She tentatively smiles. "May I?"

  Nadira laughs. "You don't even have to ask. Afraid my sheets aren't as nice as yours though."

  She smiles at Nadira's knack for taking the levity of something and making it seem simple. "That's okay."

  "Or the padding."

  "I don't mind."

  "Or the—"

  "Nadira," she replies, reaching out with two fingers under the other woman's chin, her thumb lightly pressing into the cleft. "It's alright."

  "Okay," Nadira replies with a shy grin. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

  Nadira waits for Fiona to lie on one side of the bed before lying back on her own—Fiona resting on her side facing away from Nadira, and Nadira lying to look straight up at the ceiling. Far enough apart to not be touching, but close enough to want to. Slow, awkward breathing fills the air between them until Nadira places her hand against Fiona's hip. "Is this okay?"

  Her voice is barely a whisper and Fiona matches it. "Yes."

  Braver now, Nadira scoots closer until her front is lightly pressed against Fiona's back. "And this?"

  The heat of Nadira's body feels like it's wrapping around her; threatening to swallow her whole. But it feels absolutely wonderful, unlike anything she's ever experienced.

  She nods against the pillow. "Yes."

  Nadira finally wraps her arm completely around Fiona , holding her tightly. Daresay, it's the first time Fiona's been held since was a young child of no more than four—and even that wasn't by her own mother. She smiles to herself.

  "And this?" Nadira finally asks.

  She places her arm on top of Nadira's own—their fingers tangling and resting against her stomach. "I'm definitely not opposed."

  Nadira laughs, her breath lightly blowing a few wisps of Fiona's hair. "But not completely sold?"

  "I'm getting there," she whispers, edging her way slightly back closer to Nadira.

  Chapter 7

  Days flew by—sleeping in Nadira's embrace during the day and riding with Nadira at night. Not because she was incapable of doing so herself, but because she genuinely enjoyed being around Nadira. Her teasing. Her deep laugh that wracked her body and showed her godly-white teeth. The muscles that rippled under her skin as she sauntered around in that indescribably powerful way. The way she could go from terrifyingly stern to a puddle of softness and warmth with just a glance Fiona's way.

  She learned that Nadira enjoyed to laugh as much as she could with Fiona in private because she couldn't anywhere else, lest she be deemed incompetent. That Nadira liked to stroke Fiona's hair as they were falling asleep because it reminded her of a woven silk blanket she had had so many years ago and was forced to throw out after some of her schoolmates had found out she still slept with it. That Nadira liked to stare at her breasts when she thought Fiona wasn't looking, and that Nadira was true to her word about waiting to do anything until Fiona was absolutely comfortable doing so.

  She reaches out and lightly runs her finger down Nadira's nose until it scrunches, the other woman sleepily reaching up to smack her fingers away. "Fiona…stop that."

  "It's very cute," she teases.

  Nadira emits a low, sleepy growl. "Ugh. Do not let anyone hear you calling me that."

  Fiona softly grins. "Afraid they'll think you're going soft?"

  Nadira instantly rolls her eyes, blowing a strand of curly brown hair from her face. "I am going soft, thanks to you."

  Fiona laughs knowingly.

  "I never think I really stood a chance," Nadira starts, reaching out and poking one of Fiona's dimples. "You and your doe-eyed curiosity pulling me in from the start."

  "I do not have doe eyes," she replies, grinning. She props herself up on her elbow, her sleep-mussed hair curling around her face as she looks down at Nadira. She looks so open, so vulnerable in these few moments between sleep and alertness. Besides a teasing Nadira, this Nadira was her second favorite to be around.

  Nadira starts to bury her face back into the pillow, but Fiona clears her throat. "Why was it arranged to marry me?"

  Groaning slightly, Nadira forces her eyes to stay open as she rolls back to face her. "To keep you safe."

  Her brow knits. "What?"

  "They wanted someone that could keep you safe," Nadira says, reaching up to push a strand of hair from Fiona's lip that had gotten stuck there. "And obviously I was the best choice."

  She chooses to ignore Nadira's attempt at humor and slightly shakes her head. "Why did they tell me it was to keep the peace?"

  "She meant to keep the peace within the Kaelans so they wouldn't revolt against the foreigner they must now bow down to," she replies. "We want nothing to do with the Vatrans. We are richer than they are anyway."

  Her forehead wrinkles. "So what did you get in return if you have no need for a monetary endowment?"

  "A map."

  Her eyebrow arches. "A map?"

  "The only map of Faraha's gates," Nadira starts, kicking the twisted blanket off her legs. "We don't need our weaknesses known."

  With rumors of war and disruption spreading, it makes sense to do what's needed to be done to ensure protection. People had been arranged to marry for much less over the years—for money, to ensure an heir to be born with certain features, for trade agreements.

  At least this was for the protection of thousands of people, instead of selfishness and trivial disputes.

  "They also think marrying you will make me want to protect them if they should enter into a war," Nadira interrupts her from her thoughts.

  Her head tilts, brow wrinkling. "And you won't?"

  Nadira sighs—and Fiona can hear a tinge of regret. Sympathy. "Their battles aren't mine to fight, Fiona."

  Her face falls slightly despite her understanding. Nadira is right. She can't forsake her own kingdom for one Fiona had so clearly been told she is no longer a part of.

  Nadira reaches out and runs her thumbs across Fiona's lip. "I'll keep you safe though."

  And despite only knowing Nadira for a handful of days, she knows it to be true. It was an odd feeling, really, for Nadira to already have her complete and utter trust already, but she does. Every single bit of it.

  Nadira starts to sit up, pushing wild curls from her face. "What time is it?"

  "After midday," she replies, rolling on her side towards Nadira. "Do you think we could stay here for one more night?"

  Nadira's eyebrows shoot up. "I thought you were excited to get to Faraha?"

  "I am," she replies, a whine only slightly evident in her voice. "But perhaps we can have a one day reprieve? Please?"

  She gives her best pout, and Nadira's face softens into a smile as she rolls her eyes. "Fine. But it was my decision to stay, alright? It had nothing to do with those damned doe-eyes of yours."

  "Mhmm," she hums with, daresay, the smuggest grin in her entire life.

  * * *

  The large fire is already crackling loudly in the mi
ddle of the large canopy when she finally makes her way inside to the feast they had prepared for the night. Nadira sits at the main wooden chair and emits an air of strength and power, despite how lazily she's draped herself across the seat. It's like she doesn't even have to try and yet, people fear her all the same with her easy confidence and hard as steel gaze across the room.

  Nadira sits more upright when Fiona walks to her; her face softening into a small grin. "Finally decide to join us?"

  "Akina said it was best to be late," she replies, "Although I'm not sure why."

  "So everyone would watch you walk in," Nadira says, pulling Fiona until she's sitting on Nadira's thighs. "It's not often we have someone so pretty around."

  She smiles in response to the grin on Nadira's face, and then looks around self-consciously. This simple act of affection in front of a gathering would have been crass and surely would've garnered stern discipline where she was from.

  "Don't worry," Nadira speaks up as if reading her thoughts, gently wrapping an arm around Fiona's waist. "It would've been odd if you hadn't sat here."

  "Really?"

  "Yeah. It would've meant you weren't comfortable being here," Nadira replies, conscious of the possible ears around them. "And that wouldn't have gone over very well. For either of us."

  And before she can inquire further, a woman many years older than she with a softness to her face walks up and holds out a silver platter covered in food. "For you, Enzana," she says in the foreign tongue, bowing slightly.

  Fiona takes it with a smile. "Thank you. It looks wonderful," she replies in the same language, smiling gratefully as she takes it from the weathered hands.

  The woman hurriedly walks off, and she looks back at Nadira. A very proud, and grinning Nadira. "It's been, what? Less than two weeks and you already sound like that?" Nadira laughs, "You could've told me you were a genius. I wouldn't have worried so much."

  And as far as she knows, no one has ever worried about her. Not truly. She had never given them a reason to—always doing what was expected of her, when it was expected. But…she can't say that she resents the fact Nadira had worried that she would be unable to do what was expected.