Chapter 10
Fiona spends hours upon hours scanning through the few books she had managed to bring with her, learning about different herbs and concoctions to heal everything from a scrape to the most fatal wounds. Not only will it prepare her for anything bad that may come, but it also keeps her mind off everything else she saw yesterday.
Around midday, Nadira finally stumbles into the tent and jerks Fiona from her medicinally-focused mindset. She's pouring sweat and her skin is flushed from exertion; her knuckles scraped and covered in a layer of dried, crusted blood.
"Dare I ask?"
Nadira shakes her head as she walks to the washbasin. "I'd rather you didn't."
Sighing, she closes the book and walks to where Nadira stands. It isn't long before she can no longer watch Nadira attempt to do this herself before she wrestles away the damp cloth from the other woman and wrings out the excess water to carefully dab at her hands.
Nadira waits for Fiona to talk, but the words never come. She tentatively clears her throat. "Are you mad?"
She shakes her head, looking back down to Nadira's fingers. "I have no right to be. This is how you do things," she starts. "And from what I gather, this is how it's always been. So no, I'm not mad. I'm…adjusting."
"Okay. That's…that's good, right?"
Fiona nods her consent before dropping the rag into the basin. "Can we go to bed?"
"Yeah," Nadira smiles. "Whatever you want."
"I want to sleep,” she answers. “Just sleep."
"Okay," Nadira finally dares to reach out and lightly squeeze Fiona's fingers. "We can do that."
The pillows are soft and the blankets are still cool, but the heat of Nadira's body as it wraps around her is scorching hot. Burns every patch of her pale skin, almost tingles where it grazes.
And she loves every single moment of it.
She reaches across the very small distance between them and pushes a brown curl from Nadira's face, waiting until she's right on the very precipice of sleep.
"I don't know what it is about you Nadira," she whispers. "One night I'm struggling because being here with you is so…strange. And now? Now being without you is strange."
She nearly flinches when Nadira's eyes crack open. "I know the feeling."
"Do you?"
"Yeah. I've never needed anyone before. Never been attached," Nadira says, wistfully. "Then you show up and now I'm holding you whenever I get the chance."
Nadira squeezes her hip to drive across her point, and Fiona laughs. "You do like to cuddle."
The laughter dies down and she runs finger down the narrowest point of Nadira's nose. "Earlier—well, last night before the commotion…that was…"
Panic flashes through dark eyes. "A mistake?"
"No. Definitely not," she reassures with a gentle press on Nadira's hand. "Just…unexpected. In a good way. I'd…I'd like to do it again."
Nadira tries to stifle a yawn. "Now?"
"No,” she says. “When you aren't so tired."
Nadira rubs at her eyes. "I can stay awake."
She breathes out a laugh. "As romantic as that offer is, I'm tired too."
Grinning, Nadira leans forward and rests her forehead against Fiona's chest. Her hand draws languid circles against Fiona's hip. "Did all that reading wear you out? I thought you were a genius, Fiona."
More like exhausting herself waiting for Nadira to return. Safely and in one piece.
Leaning down, she kisses whatever part of Nadira she can reach—relishing the feel of Nadira in her arms and breathing against her, though it had only been less than half since they had been in a position nearly just like this.
"Something like that."
Chapter 11
She wakes up to nothing but the cold bed linens beside her for the third night in a row. Nadira had either been going to sleep very late and waking very early, or not going to sleep in the same tent with her at all. Which it is, she isn't sure.
But she does know she doesn't particularly like either of those scenarios
Combing her fingers through her hair, Fiona sits up with a terse smile as Akina enters to help pack.
"Enzana," she greets with a slight bow.
Fiona motions for her to rise. "Do you know where Nadira may be?"
The woman fiddles with her fingers; her words drawn out slowly. "Amadi is…not in here."
Fiona narrows her eyes suspiciously. "I can see that."
Akina guiltily averts her eyes and starts to fold a blanket. "Perhaps another tent?"
Realizing that this conversation was obviously going to be no help, Fiona puts on fresh clothes and leaves in search of the other woman on her own. Most of the tents are already being disassembled, and she checks each of the few remaining ones until she hears hushed voices coming out of one at the very edge of the makeshift camp.
Boldly, she pushes through the flap to see Nadira and several other people sitting around a small fire. Nadira looks up with a scowl that, usually, is never directed towards Fiona herself.
"What do you want?"
The question is more of a bark than anything, and Fiona self-consciously takes a step back. "May we talk for a moment?"
Nadira looks around the tent at three of the solemn-faced men before looking back up at her with an even harder grimace. "I don't have time for you right now." Then she flicks her fingers towards the door before turning away from Fiona. "Leave."
It feels like a slap to the face. Nadira had never been so harsh to her in the past weeks. Had never looked at her with that steely gaze and clenched jaw. Not even once.
In a state of confusion and hurt, she staggers back to her own tent with reddened cheeks. She doesn't recall doing anything wrong in the past few days. In fact, since the day Nadira had come back bloodied and exhausted, Fiona hadn't even seen her long enough to actually do anything wrong.
After packing, she's once again made to ride her own horse in just as many nights as she's woken up alone. It's not as strange now—the cold wind biting at her flesh without Nadira's body to block it—but it certainly still isn't something she particularly enjoys.
She looks over to the other woman; at the way the faint light from the torches light up her dark skin that shows despite the frigidness around them, the way her hair lightly fans as they ride.
She's beautiful.
And even though Fiona's confused, she can't think of her any other way.
She takes a shaky breath. "Nadira…did I do something wrong?"
Nadira silently pulls forward from the group, tilting her chin for Fiona to follow. She looks back with a furrowed brow as they even surpass the only source of light and start walking through the darkness.
"Nadira? What are you—"
"Fiona," Nadira interrupts. Her head drops slightly. "We can't."
Her breath hitches. "We can't what?"
By the pale light cast down by the mood, Fiona can see Nadira sigh rather than hear it. "That stunt you pulled the other night? Trying to save that man?" She nods in reply. "That put us both in danger," Nadira starts, her jaw already clenching. "I can't have some northern girl, that I hardly even know, dictating what I do. It makes me look incompetent. Weak."
"So I make you look bad?"
Nadira scoffs. "That's loaded and you know it."
Her fingertips graze Nadira's arm, and her voice is barely a whisper. "What can I do? To fix it?"
"Toughen up," Nadira quickly replies in the same harsh way as before, pulling away from Fiona's touch.
"But Nadira—"
"I am the Amadi, Fiona," her voice is just shy of a yell, and Fiona recoils. "That means I command them, and I command you."
Her eyebrows rise despite the pain building in her chest. "Command me?"
"If I can't keep you under control, then why the hell would they think I could keep them under control?"
It's like bucket of cold water has just been poured on her; reaching every crevice inside her. She should've known. This culture isn't as differ
ent as she had originally thought.
She bristles, squaring her shoulders and biting her lip to keep it from quivering. "I see."
"Don't think I don't feel bad about this, Fiona," Nadira finally replies, her voice much softer. "But this is how it has to be."
She hates the way her body betrays her as her voice cracks. "Can't you change it?"
"Change hundreds of years of our way of life? Change the minds of thousands?" A humorless laugh escapes her lips. "I can't do that, Fiona. No one could."
She stays silent, even when Nadira subtly reaches over and squeezes her thigh.
"I'm sorry this can't be easy like it was. I enjoyed it," Nadira starts, her hand still resting on Fiona's leg. "And maybe…maybe I enjoyed it too much. Enjoyed the escape you gave me from being who I'm supposed to be."
Her head shakes in confusion. "I don't understand what you mean by that."
Nadira sighs. "We can…you need to learn how to act when we aren't behind closed doors. No more begging for someone's life. Don't cry where people can see you. You have to," Nadira's face scrunches and looks pained as she finishes, "do what I say when I say it. They expect it."
"I'm not sure if I can do that, Nadira," she says, blinking back involuntary tears. "I'm a horrible liar. Acting and pretending generally fall under that category."
Finally Nadira looks over at her; her dark eyes prominent even in the lack of illumination. "You want to stay alive, Fiona?" She nods. "Then you have to learn the rules of the game."
"What game is that?"
"How to survive."
Nadira lets the words settle in and Fiona, lost in thought, says nothing as they ride beside each other for long moments. The wind nips at her skin and she sucks in deeply, letting the icy air prick at her lungs.
"I didn't pick this for myself Fiona," Nadira finally says, her voice quiet so no one behind them can hear. "After I killed the last Amadi, it was either do this or they were going to kill me. And the only way to stay alive now is to keep doing this. There aren't many nice people where we are going, Fiona. I'll tell you who you can trust, but there aren't many. Don't expect there to be."
Her brow wrinkles. "But I thought you said it was nicer than Vatra?"
Nadira laughs a laugh even more humorless than before. "That's the thing: it is. But the people? Despite the money and where they are from, they are very harsh. So you just have to learn how to play the game to make it. You want to make it?"
She nods. "Yes."
"Then toughen up." Nadira's fingers gently touch her cheek before falling away; the hard façade already starting to form on her face. "Just remember, Fiona, I'm on your side."
Chapter 12
They arrive at the gates of Faraha shortly after dawn. Made of thick rock and poured metal, the gates stretch wider, taller than any she had ever seen. But as the entourage rides through them, Fiona realizes they are nothing compared to what lies on the inside.
The buildings are shockingly grand; gold roofing, stucco walls, and iron gated doors decorate even the most ordinary buildings. The road is paved with oddly glazed brick so that it ensures a smoother surface for riding. Fountains everywhere. Vendors spaced out on the sides of the street selling things she had never even heard of before. Grass of the purest green covers hills in the distance; jutted mountains capped with snow even farther behind that. Trees with flowers of pinks and reds and white are in clumps at every corner.
It's so beautiful; she doesn't understand how the inhabitants could possibly be as terrible as Nadira has said.
People come outside and bow as the assembly rides through the heart of the city, only stopping once they arrive at the castle. And the castle—it nearly takes her breath away. While most are stone, some even metal capped, Faraha’s leading castle is jet black, contrasting with everything so light and picturesque around it. But even the protruding, stiff peaks capped with iron and the heavy gates made of the thickest metal are oddly breathtaking.
It reminds her of Nadira in so many ways—the strength, the power, the fear she induces. The beauty.
They finally dismount and Nadira leads her through the castle gates as everyone unloads their belongings. The inside is even more ornate, with tapestries hanging from the impossibly high ceiling, the woven rugs, the statues and paintings that surely rivaled anything from her former home.
Fiona spins in a small circle. "Nadira, why do you dress like that when you live like this?"
Nadira scoffs. "Well that wasn't rude or anything."
"Sorry," she shrugs, her lips turning up at the edges slightly. "But the question still stands."
Nadira slows her pace so that they are now walking side by side; their feet lightly echoing off the marble floor. The smile that's lacking on her face is clearly present in her eyes. "Would you feel intimidated by someone in a silk dress?"
She grins at the image of Nadira in a long, draped dress. "Not particularly, no."
"Exactly," Nadira confirms. "Warriors don't dress up here. It would be—"
"Nadira! Is that her?"
"Oh gods, that voice," Nadira sighs at the high pitched exclamation, her head dropping slightly as a woman comes to stand by them. Nadira halfheartedly waves her hand between them. "This is my mother, Aleesi. Mother, Fiona."
"What a wonderful introduction, Nadira. One fit for the gods," Aleesi sarcastically chastises before turning back towards Fiona. "I swear I taught that girl some manners, but she insists on running around here like a banshee."
Her head tilts. "I've seen Nadira run many times and it isn't what I wouldn't characterize as banshee-like. She does the heel-to-toe quotient better than many of the sport runners I've seen, actually."
Aleesi pauses for a moment before bursting into a boisterous laugh. She stands stock-still as Aleesi nearly pinches her cheek. "I like her, Nadira. Definitely better than the oth—"
"Mother!" Nadira exclaims with an exasperated huff. "Don't."
But then Aleesi and Nadira simultaneously realize the commotion they've made and, with widened eyes, start to look around; their gazes soon settling on a guard in the corner.
Aleesi instantly stiffens. "Let's take this somewhere else, shall we? The Green Room?"
"Yeah," Nadira agrees with a terse nod. "You go ahead. I have something to do first."
Fiona turns and watches Nadira leave—the way her body is stiff and aware of her surroundings. Her hand on the knife strapped to her side. Much more on edge than she had been for the past three weeks.
Frowning only slightly before masking it, she turns back to Aleesi and gives a weak smile. "Lead the way."
* * *
Fiona sits in a cushioned chair upholstered with deep blues and bright golds. Aleesi sits across from her in a chair much like it, and her light eyes scan over Fiona's face. Fiona nervously spins her mother’s old ring around her finger.
"My Nadira," Aleesi finally starts after the silence has loomed on, a grin grazing her lips. "She's stubborn. If you tell her no, she's guaranteed to do it anyway just to spite you. But she's good inside, Fiona. One of the few good ones here."
Smoothing out invisible wrinkles in her dress, she nods. "Yes, she can be quite lovely when the mood strikes."
Aleesi's face is filled with sorrow and regret. She reaches over to pat Fiona's knee once before pulling away. "I'm sorry you were brought here. You seem like such a nice girl."
Fiona looks out one of the arched windows to the grassy hills. "It's beautiful."
"And so is a Siren," Aleesi retorts. "Doesn't mean it should be trusted though, does it?"
Her brow furrows as she shifts in her chair. "No. I suppose not."
Aleesi looks around at the sound of footsteps. Her next words come out in a rush. "Trust Nadira. Even when you think she's wrong, trust her. She'll keep you alive, just like she's kept me and this whole family alive. She's better at this than we could ever hope to be."
"What—"
She stiffens as a new servant appears through the door. She bows lightly betw
een them. "Can I get you anything, Enzana?"
Weakly, she smiles. "No, thank you. I'm afraid I'm exhausted from traveling all night."
"Well, of course you must be! And here I am keeping you awake," Aleesi exclaims. “Come on, dear. I'll take you to your room."
It takes several minutes to get there, through winding staircases and inconspicuous passageways. For protection, Aleesi had said as the wound further and further into the castle.
The ornately decorated door opens to a four-poster bed with stacks of lavishly stitched pillows. A stone fireplace with a conduit stretches to the ceiling. A sitting area. Shelves of books on the farthest wall. Paintings tastefully hung on the walls in thick, chiseled frames.
It's much different than her simplistic, airily decorated room at Vatra but it still leaves her in awe.
"Feel free to change whatever you’d like. Nadira never would let me dote on her, and I guess I got carried away with the decorating," Aleesi laughs before, surprisingly, pulling her into a tight hug. "If you ever need to talk, Fiona, you come talk to me. We're in this together now."
Tears spring to her eyes and she nods against the other woman's shoulder. "Thank you, Aleesi."
She waits until the other woman leaves before she sags down in one of the chairs by the fireplace. The tears fall freely. For what reason, exactly, she isn't sure, and she doesn't feel like devising a guess.
Later, she curls up in the luscious bed with a worn, leather book. It’s a ridiculous story, really, about fantastical things like dragons and pixie dust. A quiet knock on her door shakes her focus.
Nadira hesitantly stands in the door way. "Can I come in?"
Closing the book, she gives a small grin. "Of course."
Nadira saunters over and sits on edge of bed next to her legs. One of her rough hands lightly rests on Fiona's shin. She doesn't look up. Doesn't make eye contact.
"I'm sorry about the last few days."
She sighs. "It's okay."
"It isn't," Nadira replies. "But…it's how it has to be."
If she hears that one more time, she may literally scream. She bristles, shaking Nadira's hand from her leg, her arms crossing. "Don't treat me like I'm a child, Nadira. We have rules where I'm from, too, in case you've forgotten."
The Best Deceptions: A Lesbian Medieval Fantasy (Deception Series Book 1) Page 5
