Page 160 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

“Princess!” they chirped a half second before they latched themselves to my neck, nestling their face in and smothering me with the fur throw.

“Easy, Eilir,” came Jasper’s soft warning.

The sprite loosened their hold a fraction and peered up at me with beady black eyes. “You’re okay?”

I offered them a smile. “I think so. Will be even better when I can actually move.”

They squeaked a tiny, clearly embarrassed noise and backed off, perching on the end of the chaise.

The stifling fur fell away as I planted my hands and forced my body upright, cursing quietly under my breath. Goddess, every inch of me was stiff and sore in a miserable way—but it was a far cry from the bloodied and battered, half-lucid state I vaguely recalled being carried from the arena in.

A frightening testament to whatever the hell was contained in the putrid vials Gallan made me drink before we left the barracks.

My hips and knees gave cracks of protest as I righted myself and swung them over the side of the chaise. Already, I felt embarrassingly out of breath.

The thinly veiled concern in Jasper’s pinched brow came as no surprise. “Do you need a hand?” he asked, all palpable unease.

I shook my head. “Just give me a minute. Are we…?”

I didn’t have the faintest idea where we were to supply any guesses. A study of some sort, but the dark furniture and richly papered walls weren’t something I recognized from anywhere I’d been in the Keep.

“Max’s study,” Eilir chirped as they puttered over and started examining my hands in great detail, one finger at a time. “In his private quarters.”

Jasper shook his head at the sprite doling out their examination, but a small smile tugged at his mouth for a fleeting second. He sighed, though, and it disappeared. “The witch needed somewhere with a bit of privacy to finish fixing you up. It was not exactly the same level of care any of the others were getting, so—” He half shrugged.

Ah yes, the eternal special treatment I could never seem to escape.

At least it meant my own bed was close by, if we were somewhere in the depths of Maksym’s own quarters. I’d definitely need a bath first, or a damp washcloth at the very least, but I could taste the relief my mattress and a day or two of uninterrupted sleep would bring me. There was no way they’d call a fourth damn event in as many days and wrap up the Agōn Ferr in less than a week, with most of the contestants beaten within an inch of their lives—those that had survived, at least.

With that thought, I sat through Eilir’s inspection as patiently as I could. The sprite moved from my fingers and up my arms, bending each joint as they went. They inspected my eyes, my ears, and my mouth before fixing me with a stern look and pointing at my feet. “You can wiggle your toes?”

“Yes, Mother,” I sighed as I did my best to move them visibly through my blood-and-dirt-crusted boots.

“All eight of them?”

Jasper made a quiet, amused noise, but said nothing.

“We’ve got ten toes, Eilir, and yes, I can move all of them.”

The sprite huffed but turned their attention on Jasper. “Take her straight to her room. By foot. And nowhere else. Understood?”

The mage’s eyebrows climbed in highly amused surprise. “Understood, emissary.”

Eilir spun back around, pecked me on the cheek, and vanished. Off to important sprite business, I had to assume.

“By foot?” I asked. “Are the planes broken, or…?”

Not that I was exactly a fan of having my being distilled into aether and thrown through the planes of existence, but I was growing accustomed to it. I’d—only possibly—hoped that might be what would deposit me in my own room.

Jasper shook his head as he stood, gathering up his book and moving his chair away. “Strict instructions from the witch. No other magic influences until sunrise. Apparently, it might just…undo all the healing your body has already done.”

“Goddess,” I muttered with the mental image of unraveling like an old scarf. “Walking it is.”

Jasper offered me his hand, but I pushed upright on my own—even with the annoyed glance he cut me.

Despite my bone-deep aches and exhaustion, my body felt concerningly steady once I got my feet beneath me. My first few steps were still taken with caution, and I didn’t stray too far from a piece of furniture as we headed to the door, but I managed fine on my own. That didn’t stop Jasper from being glued to my side, the brush of his hand ghosting my lower back.

The study door led out into a modest corridor, where brocade paper gave way to tenebrous stone, a couple of decorative tables along one side, and a few doors along the other. It was easy to assume where the gilded double doors set into the middle of the wall led to—and the rumble of dual-toned masculine arguing from behind it only confirmed my suspicion. Maksym was in residence, but goddess only knew with whom.