Page 109 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

The dressing-down I got from Eilir about taking care of my mortal flesh when I had to ask for help to tie the laces on my vest was not one I wanted to go through again.

“I still think you should have stayed in your bed all day, princess,” they prattled on behind me as I shut my quarters’ door behind us. “Or spent at least half the day in a hot, steaming bath! I could have brought you salted oils from the woods!”

“I’m going to be fine, Eilir, I promise.” I flashed them the most reassuring smile I could and tried to ignore how that somehow caused a twinge in my shoulder. “As long as I spend a couple of days anywhere but the arena, I’ll be back to normal in no time.”

The sprite came to a stop, hovering in front of my face, hands planted on its hips. “You’re still bleeding. That’s not very proper for a visit to the archives. The archivists will not be happy that you’re there if you bleed your strange red blood all over their ancient texts.”

As if I needed a reminder of that—the ever-growing burgundy spot on the bandages I had just wrapped around my hand only an hour earlier served well enough.

Just in case, I had grabbed another bundle of bandages and stuffed them into a small waist bag I’d found in my wardrobe.

“My blood is not strange, thank you,” I snipped back, “and I won’t be getting it on anything, so you can stop worrying. Please.”

The sprite huffed and spun around, fluttering away from me down the hall. I had to pick up a brisk pace to keep up with them—so much for the rest they thought I so ardently needed.

“Is there anything else pertinent I should know about these archives?” I asked. “Besides some ornery scribes, of course. We had plenty of those in Odessa, trust me. I’ll make sure I don’t cough or sneeze or touch anything that looks like it might be priceless.”

“These archives,” Eilir scoffed. “You say it as if they are something so boring.”

Oh, goddess, help me.

Maybe I should’ve taken another round of beating in the stadium or risked getting lost in the Keep trying to find the archives on my own.

“Well, Eilir, I don’t know anything about them, so, yes, they sound rather boring right now.”

They tutted.

“These archives were built by the late Queen Lenora, Max’s great-great-great-grandmother, and it has been the duty of Grimmoria’s royal ladies ever since to see that they were well maintained. Except for, well…” Eilir frowned but didn’t let that deter them long.

“Never mind that. These archives have the largest collection of dark fae antiquities in the entire kingdom, and someday, they will be your responsibility as well, seeing as Max clearly has not told you about that yet.”

“No,” I sighed. “He definitely never mentioned that.”

Someday was months away at the very most, not the immeasurable time Eilir made it sound like.

We were only weeks out from the tournament and, as long as I wasn’t a casualty, I’d be marrying Eilir’s precious Maksym shortly after it ended.

“Well, that’s no matter for now.” Eilir phased through a door at the end of the hall and left me to nearly collide with it in my fatigue. I yanked it open with a curse and took the spiral stairs behind Eilir quickly.

“Since Max returned and brought Jasper along, the two of them have seen much of the neglect restored and have done a rather impressive job.” There the sprite went, sounding like a proud parent of the two men who had done little other than aggravate me endlessly. “They both spend plenty of time there, so I’m sure one of them will give you everything you need to know when the time comes. But you’ve got plenty else to worry about for the time being.”

“Thank you for reminding me.” I huffed a dry laugh before hesitating on a step.

We were still going down. I was certain we should have already been on the ground floor a dozen or more steps ago, easily.

“Eilir, how much farther is it?”

Their quiet hum echoed up the stone stairwell, which smelled a bit too much like my damp jail cell had.

“Only another six or seven more dozen steps for you, I think.”

“Only?” I whined. I should have stayed in bed.

Grimmoria really was the antithesis of Odessa.

Down in the archives, a cavernous space that sprawled out in front of Eilir and me, there were no markers of what I’d grown up associating with such a place of learning.

There were no grand, vaulted ceilings or glass-domed reading rooms—only the pale-blue glow of countless dozens of nytefire lanterns strung about rafters and metal catwalks.