Page 41 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

I’d never seen such rainbows of colors reflected in something so natural, let alone so equally delicate and strong-looking at once, like tissue paper that could lift a boulder without it tearing.

It made sense now that only the hands of the Mother of the lower pantheon could craft them.

“My wings?” Eilir squeaked, swatting a hand in dismissal. “They are nothing, princess. Wait until you see Max’s. His are magnificent, and so big!”

I cleared my throat. “Max has wings?”

“Oh, does he ever!” Eilir clasped their little hands in front of them. “He keeps them out of sight most of the time, especially after what his father did, even though that makes me sad. He loves flying, always has, like a gigantic bat. And he⁠—”

The sprite slapped their palm over its mouth and buzzed away.

I hurried after them down the vacant hallway, my achy calf and too-big boots be damned. “What else, Eilir? You’ve caught my interest now.”

“No!” they squeaked. “That’s it, princess. You tricked me! No more!”

“Oh, come on,” I whined. “I think I’ve earned another piece of information for that. Just one more! Please, Eilir.”

The sprite spun around, planting their hands on their hips, and their thin, bark-like lips curled. “One more.”

My eyes widened. “Really? Okay. How about…” I glanced back down the hall to buy myself a moment, but something came to me quickly. “Who used to occupy my room? Maksym said it wasn’t a wife he killed, but I don’t believe that.”

A bell chimed in the distance, and the annoyance slid right off the sprite’s face, replaced by something woefully uneasy.

They rubbed their hands together before flying right behind me and giving me a nudge forward. Just like when they helped me up off the ground that morning, they carried a shocking amount of strength in that push.

“You’re going to be late for dinner, princess,” they squeaked. “Go, go. Max doesn’t like tardiness.”

Another push, and I moved farther down the hall.

“So he did kill her. Great,” I scoffed.

“He did no such thing,” Eilir retorted. “Now move your bottom, walker.”

I tried to glance back at the sprite, but they gave me another solid shove. “So it was his wife, then?”

“No! He’s never had one.”

The doors were just a few feet away now, and my chance at getting an answer narrowed with the distance.

So, I planted my feet and turned. “Just tell me who used to live there, please. I won’t ask anything else of you.”

The sprite stared me down with a scowl before they huffed and turned, flying back the way we came. “His mother. But I didn’t tell you that.”

My eyebrows climbed.

That meant she was well out of the picture of his life or dead, as I had assumed. Unfortunately, I knew all too well that the former was just as good as the latter.

The reflection of the nytefire lanterns dancing off Eilir’s wings held my attention until the sprite disappeared down an offshoot and took their irradiance out of sight with them.

Goddess. An absent mother.

The last thing I wanted to do was to have a core wound in common with the dark fae king, but it was time to stop putting off the inevitable.

A deep breath filled my lungs, and I squared my shoulders before I strode the rest of the way down the hall, only to halt between the double doors.

I’d known no shortage of ostentatious rooms growing up at Caenleigh, but this was something.

A dark wooden table with seating for dozens spanned the length of the room, floral centerpieces in muted, pale tones dotting the entire surface of its sapphire runner. To one end, there were three place settings.