Page 125 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

“I guess that means a dawn walk is out of the question.” I pursed my lips and glanced back into the atrium behind us.

It hadn’t quite occurred to me in my half-asleep state earlier, but there was one particular Umbrite male I hadn’t seen in quite a while. Not since they tried to intercept and calm me down after I’d learned about Jasper’s true identity, and I told them to fuck off in about fifteen different ways, at least three of which involved furniture.

“Do you know if Gallan has a residence here in the Keep?”

The sentry’s confused blink was barely visible beneath their helmet. “He does. Isn’t it rather late, though? Or early, I suppose, and⁠—”

“Perfect. Where can I find it?” I set my hands on my hips until the sentry finally sighed and gave me a brief set of directions to a residence hall on the main level. Apparently, I’d find Gallan’s personal apartment tucked at the end.

After being reminded once more that it was an unusual time of day to go knocking on someone’s door, I bid the sentries goodbye and set off to disturb Gallan.

It was strange I didn’t catch sight of a single other soul the entire way there, even though it meant I didn’t have to explain my dawn-hour excursion. Back at Caenleigh, as abundantly safe as it was, we had patrols in every wing every quarter hour. They were doubled or tripled, even at night, when my father had esteemed guests in residence. And given that I recalled being told there had been attempts on Maksym’s life in the last few years, it made no sense.

Just another thing to add to my ever-growing list of Grimmoria’s oddities.

“Gallan?” I gave the door a couple of knocks before I hissed, “Are you awake?”

Silence.

Another few knocks.

More silence.

I sighed and took a glance around the hall.

There was always a chance Gallan wasn’t even in his quarters. There was no point in pretending I remotely understood the responsibilities of an Elixia, let alone one who seemed to serve as his king’s hand. He could have been deployed to goddess knows where, scouring for intelligence to thwart another attempt on Maksym’s life or some other important business I was too tired to think of a tangible example of.

I’d give it one more try.

“Gallan? It’s Enora.” I knocked a few more times. “I’m really sorry to bother you.”

A thump, a thud, and a clear mutter of, “Fuck,” came from beyond the door. Promising.

I clasped my hands behind my back and plastered on an apologetic smile as the lock clicked and the door pulled open a crack.

Squinting, moon-silver eyes greeted me.

“Enora?” Gallan rasped before he pulled the door open farther. He was wearing a hastily tied silk robe, its royal blue a lovely contrast to the deep gray of his skin, and his undercut was nowhere in sight, with his usually tied-up hair loose and strewn about in all directions.

A twinge of guilt settled in my chest.

“I’m sorry to bother you.” I winced.

“No, no. It’s alright.” He cleared his throat and glanced past me into the corridor. “Did something happen, or…?”

Gallan tightened his robe, and guilt ate at me quickly.

“Nothing happened.” I hesitated before I asked, “Is Embervale far? And do you have a blade or something I could borrow?”

He blinked at me twice before leaning against the doorframe with an amused huff. “Who are you planning on killing, princess?”

“No one, thank you,” I hissed. “I just need a change of scenery rather desperately. But goddess forbid I have a run-in with one of these rabid pups everyone keeps squabbling on about while unarmed.”

Gallan cocked a silver-white brow. “And you can’t ask your husband to take you? Or the mage? Eilir, even? After the sun comes up?”

“He is not my husband,” I bit out.

“And no, absolutely not. I need a change of scenery, and a change of company, and a change of air, and a change of every fucking⁠—”