Page 45 of The Freedom You Seek

I groaned inwardly. This was exactly the behavior I’d warned her about, and I shot her a stern look. “We’ll have this discussion in private. So keep your mouth shut. Women should be seen, not heard.” Even I had to cringe inwardly at the total garbage that came out of my mouth.

Only now did I realize that the comment about ‘denying me’might have brought back terrible memories for Nayana, and I briefly felt bad. Still, my reasoning for this stood strong—nothing was as good at forging instant sympathy between most males as difficult wives.

She faced forward again and fell silent. Relieved, I turned my attention back to the guards. The line was moving steadily forward, and it would be us next, after an Iolesian soldier who was arguing with his Marsian counterparts at the moment.

I paid close attention, and so did the others. The guards quickly made it clear they wouldn’t let the soldier pass into Marsia. What did he expect? That he could just march into their territory dressed as the enemy? Tsk, some people—

“You can’t send me away. My mother lives in Sarban, and she’s on her deathbed. I showed you my permission for special leave!”

“You could be a spy. We don’t make a habit of letting foreign soldiers into our country. And no Marsian citizen is present to speak on your behalf, nor do you have any paper issued by a Marsian authority vouching for you, which makes this case easy: I’m denying you entry,” the captain said, and I sighed inaudibly.

A problematic case usually made everyone jumpy and extra cautious. I was able to feel the nervous energy in my company, although they concealed it well enough to fool strangers.

I prayed to the gods Jama would stay silent. If she ruined our small opportunity to pass through the control peacefully, I’d make sure she remembered that every life lost was on her.

Finally, the soldier gave up and walked away, muttering curses and protests under his breath. Honestly, I didn’t buy the threadbare story of a dying mother either. The man didn’t appear defeated or sad as he’d been told hecouldn’t see hisdying motherfor a last time, as if he had no proper relationship with the woman who’d given birth to him. But if that were the case, he wouldn’t have taken it upon himself to make it all the way from the army stationed in Trussin—located all the way in the south of Iolesia—to the Marsian border.Suspicious.

But my analysis was interrupted when it was our turn at last. Fig approached the captain, and I banned all thoughts about the denied soldier from my mind. Slipping on my usual mask of boredom, I settled my gaze on Fig, who made the first contact.

“Good day, sir. We seek to return to Marsia. Two weeks ago, we crossed into Iolesia so my master,” he motioned to me, “could wed his Iolesian bride before bringing her home.”

“Papers.” The supervisor sounded as bored as I looked and extended his hand. Fig handed over some documents Thain had forged last night.

As much as I hated him, he had a genuine talent for forgery. According to Antas, he was even able to forge the royal seal, and I didn’t even want to imagine what kind of mischief or potential worldwide incidents he could cause with that.

“It’s all here, all our papers, the papers of the lady, and the document we received when we crossed the border on our way to Iolesia.”

The supervisor studied our papers before sauntering over to me. I dipped my head down to him, schooling my face into an even more bored expression of utter arroganceand disdain. Jama tensed, and my left hand dug into her hip in warning, earning me a small wince.

“Your name is Timenth Cantor?”

“The one and only. And this here’s my beautiful Iolesian prize, Lareana Cantor.” I deftly tangled my left hand in Nayana’s blonde braided crown and tugged her head back so it almost touched my shoulder, effectively obscuring her face with mine, all while maintaining the facade of an aloof noble and major asshole. “Isn’t that right, darling?”

Before Jama could answer, the captain cleared his throat, and my head turned back to him. I kept her head on my shoulder and made it appear as if I’d forgotten to release her because of the distraction the soldier posed.

“According to your papers, you’re the son of Lord Cantor of Mantoria?”

“Bastard son. He fucked his wife’s handmaid. I doubt he even remembers my existence anymore. The last time I met him was when he paid me off with an estate and enough wealth to make me promise that I’d never challenge his legitimate heir, who was born second.”

“And the people with you?”

“You’ve already spoken to my steward. These two are my guards.” I waved my hand in the general direction of Antas and Thain, then motioned to Ireas, all the while pretending that using the names of my staff were beneath me. “And this soft-looking boy is my bride’s cousin. I bartered with her parents to take him home and employ him. As a child, he fell on his head, and it’s been hollow ever since. I’ll marry him off to my steward’s daughter. She isn’t verybright herself.” I felt Jama tensing, and I tightened my hand in her hair in warning.

“At least he’s a looker,” the captain laughed cruelly, and I nodded.

“That’s the only redeeming quality the boy has, believe me.”

The captain chuckled again, then motioned to his guards. “Open the gates. Sir Cantor is free to ride home.”

I couldn’t believe that this ruse had actually worked. Sure, I had the role of the arrogant noble down to perfection, but this felt too easy. No suspicion, no further questioning or seeking confirmation of my story—Noelk’s balls, I wasn’t even dressed for the part! This control was nothing like I’d expected, so I didn’t let my guard down just yet. Something was off, I felt it in my bones.

The captain returned to Fig and handed him our papers back.

Shortly after, the iron gates swung open, and I released Jama’s hair to take the reins back in both hands. She was consumed with the urge to glare at me—I could tell so much by the way her body vibrated with anger against my front—but she hung her head and glanced down in defeat, so her face was not so visible.Clever girl.

The others swiftly surrounded our horse, creating yet another visual barrier.

I caught a glimpse of one of the soldier’s faces as we rode past, and his expression heightened my unease. He tried to appear neutral, but his eyes were glued to Jama, and—shit. I knew greed when I saw it.