Page 122 of Sweet Deception
I blinked, caught off guard. “Oh.” I’d half-expected Gleb to be mocking me behind my back, not painting me as some dreamlike savior.
“So,” he leaned forward, his smile turning dangerously charming, “has he been as good to you as he brags? Anything I should call him out on?”
I hesitated, a hum escaping my lips as I weighed my words. Should I tell him the truth, that I was a prisoner here, trapped behind these walls? Instead, I shrugged. “He can be a pain sometimes, but... he’s a good husband.”
He let out a playful huff. “Relieved to hear it.”
“What do you do with your free time?” He asked, his tone casual but curious.
“Movies, occasionally. Mostly, I lose myself in historical novels.” I replied, a small smile tugging at my lips.
“Same,” he said, his expression brightening with interest. “What’s on your nightstand right now?”
“I can’t recall the title,” I admitted, “but it’s about this king whose wives keep dying after their wedding night. The people and parliament are obsessed with an heir, and when he can’t deliver, they threaten to dethrone him. His mother scours the land for a new bride and finds this serf, brutalized by her master and his friends, left broken in the street.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That where you left off?”
“Yeah. Life’s been... heavy lately. Haven’t had the headspace to pick it back up.”
“I’ve read it,” he said, a glint in his eye. “Want a spoiler?”
I groaned inwardly, spoilers were the worst, but I didn’t want the conversation to die. Talking to someone new felt like a breath of air I hadn’t known I needed. “How about you narrate it instead?”
He coughed lightly, straightening with mock formality. “Then you’d better call me Nate, the Storyteller.”
I laughed despite myself. “Alright, Nate the Storyteller, weave me the rest.”
He settled back, pausing to gather the threads of the tale. “So, the king’s wives weren’t dying from some curse or disease, like the rumors claimed. He was strangling them himself, every one of them, right after bedding them.”
“What?” I gasped, leaning in.
“Yep. When Naoni, the serf, arrives, he marries her in the same rushed ceremony, planning to kill her that night, just like the others. But as he prepared to lie with her, she begs him to wait, says she’s still sore. He presses her, confused, since her mother hid the truth of her past.”
“She didn’t tell him who she was, did she?”
“She did.” Nate nodded. “And it breaks him. He collapses, sobbing, confessing he’d been raped by his stepsisters over and over when he was younger. Couldn’t tell a soul. It twisted him, left him hating women so much he’d kill them after taking them to bed. The throne? He never wanted it. That was his mother’s obsession.”
“God...” I murmured, a pang of sympathy tightening my chest. “What happens next?”
“They don’t sleep together that night. Word spreads the next day that Naoni’s still alive, and people start whispering, she’s either bewitched him or she’s heaven-sent to break his curse. For three months, he doesn’t touch her; she keeps saying she’s not healed. Meanwhile, he tracks down her old master and his cronies, has them publicly executed, then mutilates their bodies for good measure.”
“Now that’s justice,” I said, a fierce satisfaction curling my lips. “So, when do they finally... you know? Do they have kids?”
Nate’s smile widened. “Patience. But the king’s mother...”
The door swung open, cutting him off. We both turned as Gleb strode in, his face a storm cloud of tension. I stood instinctively, crossing to him and wrapping my arms around him like nothing was wrong. “Welcome home, husband.”
He returned the embrace stiffly before pulling back. “What were you two talking about?” His voice was low, edged with suspicion.
“Random things,” Nate replied, that playful grin still dancing on his lips.
Gleb’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t talk to my wife about random things.” He turned to me, sharper now. “Go inside.”
“Why?” I shot back, sinking back into the chair beside Nate, defiance sparking in my chest. Nate’s brows lifted, clearly surprised.
“The fuck,” Gleb hissed under his breath, his gaze darkening into something lethal. “Are you trying to get him killed?”
“Nate and I have a lot in common,” I said coolly. “We’re not done talking.”
