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

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The Best Deceptions: A Lesbian Medieval Fantasy (Deception Series Book 1) Page 8

by Victoria Pink


  She swears she sees his scowl soften the slightest bit before she turns to leave.

  * * *

  "How are you reading in here?"

  Nadira's voice pulls Fiona from what she had so intently been analyzing. She looks around the secluded sitting room. It's incredibly dim now, with hardly any light from the setting sun peeking through the stained glass windows and the fire burned down to embers. She's surprised she is able to still see the words on the page in front of her.

  "Oh, I didn't even notice how late it had gotten."

  Smiling, Nadira stokes the dying fire to a soft glow. "That carried away, huh?"

  "While these texts are severely lacking, to say the least, there are still so many interesting things in them," Fiona starts. Her eyes light up as she remembers all the amazing and unbelievable things she had learned in the past few hours. "Did you know that the lifespan of both human and animals is nearly twice as long in this kingdom than any other place in the world? It doesn't say why, exactly, so I'm not entirely convinced."

  Grinning at the perplexed look on her wife's face, Nadira nods as she sits in the overstuffed chair by Fiona's own. "Well I'm sure you'll figure it out."

  "That would be quite mitigating," Fiona concedes, shutting the book on her lap. Briefly, she wonders if there is someone Nadira can refer her to that knows the answers. Or at least answer a few of her lingering questions. She turns sideways in the chair to better face Nadira. "Is there anything you would like to read before they're returned?"

  Nadira's face falls slightly before covering it deftly, at least she thinks, with a suggestive grin. "I can think of a better form of entertainment…"

  "Nadira," Fiona half-heartedly chastises with an eye roll. "Reading really is beneficial for an innumerable amount of reasons. And you never know, you may learn something beneficial to the defense of your nation."

  Nadira makes a noncommittal noise in her throat.

  Thinking she had said something wrong, Fiona frowns. "What's wrong? Did I do something?"

  "No," Nadira refutes, backing it with a small smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It's nothing. Really."

  Fiona reaches out and tenderly envelops one of Nadira's hands in both of her own. Her eyes are soft as she says, "You don't have to be strong around me, Nadira. Remember what you said? About being on my side? Well, I'm on your side too."

  Nadira nervously looks around the room. When her eyes finally settle on the small fire in the fireplace, her eyes are cloudy and dark. Fiona thinks she's lost her until she hears a quick rush of air escape Nadira's lips.

  "Ican'tread."

  It comes out mumbled and embarrassingly rushed and Fiona hardly thinks she hears correctly. Her brow furrows. "But you went to school when you were younger…"

  "I did," Nadira agrees. "But it's different here."

  "How so?"

  "You can only grow up to have jobs within your social class; a caste system of sorts. Since my family wasn't well off, I could only learn how to do certain things." Nadira shrugs nonchalantly, though Fiona can tell how much it bothers her. "Reading wasn't a requirement for any of them," she finishes.

  Sometimes she wished Nadira had grown up in Vatra with the world at her fingertips; where she would've gotten the best education and experienced a peaceful life. But then she looks over to Nadira with her wild hair and exposing but powerful leather outfit and the remnants of small scars amassed on her body, and she realizes that Nadira any other way wouldn't be her Nadira.

  Her thumbs softly stroke the back of Nadira's hands. "What were you learning about?"

  "Hydroculture," Nadira replies with a scrunched nose. "It's hard work, but you can't get out of what you're born into."

  "Except by defeating the last Amadi."

  Nadira looks down to their intermingled hands on her lap, and swallows harshly. "Sometimes I can't decide if that was a good or bad thing."

  "It was a very good thing. It might have caused you to make a few questionable choices, but you're here and you're alive and your family has an easier life," Fiona argues. "And it means I was able to meet you," she adds softly as Nadira glances up. She gives a reaffirming squeeze to Nadira's fingers, a small smile starting to grow on her lips. "I can teach you to read if you'd like."

  "Or you could just read to me," Nadira suggests with a hint of preference. "I like hearing your voice."

  "That can be arranged," Fiona replies, grinning softly.

  "Pick something interesting," Nadira encourages as she watches Fiona carefully lift one of the lighter volumes. The deep red of the cover contrasts starkly with the white of Fiona's long dress. It makes her look all the more innocent and pure and Nadira can't help herself.

  "C'mere," she says as she gently grasps Fiona's arm. By the time it's said and done, Fiona is nestled on her lap and it feels like that's exactly where she's meant to be.

  Fiona flips through the old text and lands on a page nearly at the end. "Would you like to know more about the origins of your language?

  "Sounds perfect."

  The rich, smooth tones of Fiona's voice wash over Nadira instantly. She watches as Fiona's bright eyes scan the page quickly and precisely; she watches the way Fiona rolls the words over her tongue and out her lips like a delicious fruit. She's enraptured by the way the dim light from the fire sends flecks of light over Fiona's pale skin and golden hair.

  But it's not just her physical attributes Nadira is enraptured by. It's her quirky personality. It's the way she laughs though she doesn't understand the joke. It's the way she's fascinated by anything and everything, though she already knows more than most. It's the way she smells after walking through the gardens and the way her skin feels as she falls asleep nestled up against Nadira's own.

  It's everything about her that has Nadira's attention.

  Nadira's fingers find their way under the long tunic and start to caress the baby-soft flesh of Fiona's inner knee; a place she loves to caress and a place Fiona loves to be touched.

  Fiona's voice falters as she stumbles over the words, but Nadira grins softly. "Don't stop," she encourages. "We're just now getting to the good stuff."

  "You're terrible," Fiona whispers playfully before resuming her task.

  Pleased, Nadira's fingers creep higher up soft flesh to softly trace her fingers upon her wife's thighs. Fiona's words come out in a rush, and quicken to breathy exhales as dexterous fingers slowly climb even higher. It feels like her flesh is burning and Nadira's fingers are only stoking the fire within her.

  With flushed cheeks, she finally discards the book in favor of Nadira's lips. The language she had been reading about couldn't come close to communicating as well as the way their wordless mouths slide against each other; softly and fiercely and perfectly.

  After a while, Fiona unwillingly pulls back. She grins at Nadira's questioning look, but that look is quickly dissipated as she removes Nadira's upper garments.

  Nadira tries to help, but Fiona nudges her hands away. "Let me do this for you."

  And she wants to do this for Nadira not only because no one else can, but also because she loves the idea of having Nadira, strong and in charge, under her control for once. She loves being the one that makes Nadira's body hum in pleasure because of what Fiona is doing, not simply because Nadira wishes it to be. It's a heady power that Fiona has in these moments, and she's glad Nadira allows her to have it.

  Fiona, after easily stripping Nadira bare, stands in front of the other sitting woman and admires the contours of her form, the gentle curves at odds with the hard edges and planes. Add that to her Roman nose and high cheek bones, and there's no question that she has a beauty to rival the gods; that she's a sculpture all her own.

  She starts to kneel, but Nadira timidly holds up a few fingers. "Uh, will you…"

  "Of course," she replies, gently smiling as she hooks her fingers under the golden straps of her tunic.

  It pools around her feet in a soft whoosh, leaving her just as exposed as Nadira. There's
a moment of roaming eyes and heavy exhales before Fiona gracefully sinks to her knees between Nadira's legs. And what a wonderful place to be. Ever eager to please, Fiona sets in with slow and steady explorations with her tongue, enjoying the immediate gasp that leaves Nadira's lips.

  Nadira gently starts to comb Fiona's hair from her face with her fingers. She knows how well Fiona responds to encouragement, so that's what she does. "Yes, Fiona. That’s it."

  There's a rumble of a reply vibrated against her and she briefly presses her hips forward for more; more that Fiona happily gives.

  "You're so good at this," Nadira continues without a hint of exaggeration. Because Fiona is and she deserves to know it.

  Fiona's hands climb up Nadira's thighs and grip there firmly as she quickens her lips and tongue to anchor herself tightly against Nadira, to show she's the one dictating the pace in this match that's quickly approaching an end.

  She works harder, focusing on the spots that drive Nadira higher. Nadira's grip tightens in her hair, and she tightens her grip on Nadira's increasingly tensed thighs. There's a moment of quivering, and then Nadira's body is as arched as a tightly strung bow.

  Fiona feels a swell of praise when hears her name on Nadira's lips as she comes.

  Moments later, Fiona is curled against Nadira's body again. Nadira lazily runs her fingers across as much bare flesh as she can. "You really like doing that don't you?"

  "Mhm," Fiona replies, turning her head slightly to kiss Nadira's shoulder. "Would you like to know why?"

  "I have a feeling you're going to tell me anyway," Nadira light-heartedly retorts.

  "Aside from obvious reasons," Fiona starts, ignoring Nadira's chuckling. "I enjoy the thought of being on my knees, serving you, while also having you at my mercy. It's quite the dichotomy, don't you agree?"

  She can hear Nadira's pulse increase immediately.

  "You are something else," Nadira replies, her voice somewhere between arousal and awe.

  "I hope you mean that in a good way."

  "A very good way," Nadira agrees. There's a pause, and then Nadira's arms envelop her incrementally tighter. "I'm leaving for Zathura tomorrow."

  By the apologetic lilt to Nadira's voice, Fiona already knows it's a journey she's not invited to. She pulls back slowly. "Why?"

  "I have to make a few trades." If Fiona can tell Nadira's not being entirely truthful, she says nothing. "I'll be back in a week. Two at the very latest."

  Fiona shakily exhales. Not only will she be left here in Faraha by herself, a place she hasn't entirely figured out, but it will also be the first time she won't be with Nadira in almost three months. It unexpectedly makes her incredibly nervous.

  "Try to be safe?"

  "Of course," Nadira replies, whole-heartedly. A soft grin forms on her lips as she squeezes Fiona's hip. "I may even bring you back something."

  "I do enjoy their sweet rolls," Fiona replies, almost dreamily. The thought of those luscious dessert cakes makes her mouth involuntarily water.

  Eyebrows raised, Nadira laughs. "I'll see what I can do."

  But Fiona, suddenly serious and not quite knowing why, shakes her head. "Just come back to me. That’s all I really want."

  Chapter 17

  "I assure you, I don't need a guard to accompany me in the gardens," Fiona says, shading her eyes as she steps into the sun. Tiger walks on all fours beside her, his shiny paws crunching on the path.

  She looks to Justus by her side and smiles. "But I do appreciate it. Thank you."

  "Not a problem," he replies easily. "This is much better than what I'm supposed to be doing anyway."

  Her fingers touch a specked blue flower shaped like a tube. "There are so many things here I'm unaccustomed to," she half-whispers to herself, before remembering she isn't alone. "But it's quite nice, isn't it?"

  "Sometimes," he admits. "I heard Vatra was pretty great, too, though."

  "It’s hardly as beautiful as this," she counters. "Though the people there are much more…"

  "Friendly?" He finishes with a laugh.

  She recalls all the times she was dubbed the outcast and left out despite her standing in the royal court. They were just as unfriendly towards those deemed different.

  She shakes her head. "No, definitely not friendlier. More merciful, perhaps."

  "Mercy isn't exactly an outstanding characteristic here," he agrees, sitting on one of the benches in the gardens.

  Fiona follows suit, sitting beside him and enjoying the way the light wind blows the few wisps hair from her neck. "Strength. Power. Ruthlessness," she lists before looking over to him. "Those appear to be the more accepted ones."

  He adjusts his sword so he can sit more comfortably. The gold hilt shines against his dark skin. "Unfortunately."

  Fiona fingers the sapphire pendant on her necklace as she strokes Tiger's gray mane beside her. She doesn't know why, exactly, but he with concedes his ownership to whomever is wearing the jewel. At first she had been weary having such a bond with the animal, but now she appreciates it for what Nadira wanted it to be: protection for Fiona when she is not around.

  She gazes at the pink rhododendrons and red sempervivium flowers slowly swaying in the breeze. Summer is slowly dipping into fall and she suddenly wonders how cold Faraha gets in the winter. Tiger, yawning, kneels at her feet as a peaceful silence settles over them.

  Minutes later, she turns to Justus. "How long have you known Nadira? She doesn't seem to trust easily, but she often speaks so highly of you."

  "Since I was six," he replies, fond grin on his face. "We were in the same classes at school and I had to cover her ass on more than one occasion," he laughs. "So when she became the Amadi, she made sure I came with her."

  There's silence then as his face slightly falls; the rambunctious girl he had grown up with is nothing like the person Nadira has to publicly be today.

  "Nadira's a good person," he says later, solemn look on his face. "She just had to learn how to play the part."

  "I say she has to know how in order to rule as effectively as she does."

  He nods in agreement. With soft eyes, he admits, "She's trying to make sure you don't have to be like that though."

  Her brow wrinkles. "Like what?"

  "Calloused," he explains. "Impervious to death."

  She shakes her head softly. The landscape around them is more than stunning; the buildings are architecturally superior to most she's ever seen. And yet, the people are at odds with everything around them.

  "You live in such a beautiful and rich nation. I don't understand why everyone is so severe. But, of course, I've never been able to understand the motivations of people very well."

  "It's the way it's always been," he answers, knowing that he couldn't explain it if he tried.

  "Nadira could change it," Fiona supplies. "Or she could try."

  He regretfully shakes his head. "She'd be killed first."

  "I suppose you're right," she sighs. "Change is possible, but it's hard to change something you were raised to believe; especially when over a million people have been raised to believe the very same things. But perhaps if she acts subtly, subsequent generations will live in a better environment."

  He studies her for a moment, like someone worrying for the wellbeing of another. "Just be careful, alright?"

  At that moment she decides that, despite their differences in status, Justus is going to be one of her better sources of information and, most likely, one of her better friends.

  "Of course," she replies.

  "Have you heard from her?"

  There's an odd pang in her chest as she thinks of Nadira's absence. She shakes her head penitently. "Not yet."

  He sees the worried look on Fiona's face and tries to perk her up. "It's only been a week. And don't tell her I said this," he smugly grins, "but she's never been as happy as she is with you. She'll be back."

  She feels a pleasant blush creep up on her cheeks. "Really?"

  "Really," he wholehear
tedly confirms. "When Nadira was with Kaya, I never saw her smile. Not once."

  Her brow crinkles slightly. "Who's Kaya?"

  His mouth opens and closes repeatedly in stunned silence until he finally manages to sputter out a string of syllables.

  "Oh, ah…by gods look at the time!" He quickly jumps up from the bench and starts walking backwards as he rapidly speaks. "I have to go, uh, lock my door before lunch.”

  Fiona watches, in a heap of confusion, as he hurriedly scampers away.

  Almost an hour later she finally decides that there's no point in trying to figure out things by herself. If anything, she should be able to ask Aleesi for at least some the information she wants. The older woman has made it explicitly clear that she will help Fiona with whatever she needs. That in itself is more support that Fiona's own mother had ever given her, but that's not something she particularly wants to think about at this moment.

  Tiger pads softly along beside her as they walk the nearly empty road from the gardens to the castle. She appreciates his company despite his silence; it's like having a part of Nadira with her, grounding her.

  Lost in thought, she somehow manages to venture into a part of the city she's never seen before on accident. The buildings are a little less spectacular, the landscape is a little less vibrant, but it's no less interesting than the main part of Faraha's capital. However, the farther she walks, the more degraded the houses become until she's in a small village of worn clay huts and dusty alleyways. These are the types of houses she imagines Nadira had grown up in—small and decrepit on the outside, but filled with a rare familial love on the inside.

  Ignoring the curious and sometimes contemptuous glances her way, she ambles down the street with Tiger by her side until something catches her eye. There, in a tiny nook of an alley, she sees the tips of tiny little toes peeking out from under a dirty blanket haphazardly propped against a corner wall, much like a makeshift lean-to. She looks around briefly before deciding that even if anyone else had seen it, she is probably the only one that cares enough be concerned.

 

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