Page 141 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

When I glanced back, dark mist still swirled around both Maksym and Jasper’s feet. My old friend had his hood up and his hands clasped in front of him like the studious advisor I was sure he loved pretending to be, but my betrothed held enough unease on his face for both of them. I’d never known him to look so pale, or to have such a crease between his brows, and that was plenty to stoke my dying ember of annoyance into something with bite.

“Do not.” My voice was a little hoarser than I would’ve liked, but at least I had a damned good reason for it. “I thought I had made it abundantly clear that I didn’t want to see either of you while I’m dealing with this shit.”

“Enora,” Maksym sighed. He took a half-step forward but halted, flexing his hands at his sides. “I just want to know if you’re alright.”

A beat of humorless laughter clawed out of my raw throat. “Am I alright? I’m great, Maksym. Just fucking great. Now, if you’ll excuse me, these wet clothes are chafing, and I’m sure your ravenous citizens are eager for you to announce another round.”

Gallan was clearly stuck straddling a precarious line, because he resettled his hold on me and tugged at my shoulder—I just didn’t know if it was for my good or his king’s that he was trying to put a quick end to our interaction.

“Anything else you need to know?” I asked, but Maksym shook his head.

Thank the goddess for that, because I didn’t want to look at his pained face anymore.

32

SO, YOU LIKE A LITTLE PAIN, DO YOU?

ENORA

Goddess, I needed to celebrate like a bird needed air under its wings.

And for probably the first celebratory event of my adult life, there wasn’t even a thimble of liquor in my system—though the sweet mead had been hard to turn down as trays brimming with it circled the tavern.

Not a pinch of Frost coursing through my body, either, but it would’ve been a waste anyway. My entire being hadn’t felt so alive in ages, from the tips of my fingers right down to my soul—a true feat, considering the events of my afternoon.

Leave it to the terrifying old Umbrite witch, an entire loaf of buttered bread, and a three-hour nap to see me right as rain after two goddess-damned trials stacked on top of each other.

Between the bawdy excitement rolling off the crowd of city folks and other successful prospects packed into The Busty Wench and the fiddlers tucked into the corner, playing eagerly for their coin, my near-drowning experience was a thing of the distant past.

I danced poorly to the upbeat folk rhythms, sang to them even worse, and had to be taught a bit of both by an exceptionally stunning Umbrite barmaid. I also lost a touch too much of Gallan’s money at cards, but somehow, I won it all back twofold in a sweeping final hand.

I ended up perched comfortably on a few dark fae laps amongst all that revelry, offering my judgements on who could take who in an arm wrestle, or who assuredly couldn’t down a whole pint of ale in one go. The golden Odessan in their midst was quite the novelty, and while the odd hand slipped a little lower or squeezed a little tighter than it ought to, I’d never felt so at home in Grimmoria.

Gallan was always close too, never straying more than a table or two away. Keeping an eye turned in my direction just in case I needed him, but giving me the freedom and space to breathe I’d craved so damn badly.

If it hadn’t been for the Umbrite and how he’d inserted himself into the terrifying, downward spiral I was set on, I wouldn’t have made it through my preparation for the Agōn Ferr, or those first two tasks. All I ever felt around Maksym and Jasper was the overwhelming urge to scream or cry—neither of which lent itself to being in a prime state of mind or body.

But the moment I started training with Gallan, the shift was momentous. I felt like a healthy fraction of my old self again—the Enora from before an endless cycle of defeat—and I’d never dreamed that would be possible.

I probably owed him some pretty healthy thanks.

Good thing I had him in my sights.

“Still nothin’ for you, love?” came the sultry drawl of the Umbrite woman tending the entire damned counter by herself as I worked my way up. How she breezed through it all without looking like she had so much as a hair out of place, I couldn’t fathom, but those fiery locks—and her ample cleavage—left me unabashedly staring more than once.

I chewed my lip and shook my head. “I’m still good.”

The barmaid gave me a coy smile and dipped her head before ambling over to another patron.

Gallan wasted little time draping his arm across my shoulders and settling his head against mine. “Now, on a scale of one to the best night of your rather short life so far…” he murmured with an unmistakable slur to his words. “How do you fare, fair lady?”

“Gallan Nightwing, are you inebriated?” I feigned a scandalized tone.

He stood taller, cast me a sidelong, partially glazed glance, and huffed. “I’m right fucking hammered, princess. Why aren’t you?”

I gave him a half-hearted shrug. “I’m enjoying having my wits about me. Couldn’t tell you why, though.”

Gallan cocked a white eyebrow and chuckled as he raised his glass to his lips. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the six feet of pure-blooded Umbrite woman who’s been eyeing you down, right?”