Page 56 of Of Bargains & Betrayal
Maksym did not come for me when it was time to go down to the feast.
A first promise broken out of many dozens to come, I was sure. Apparently, he’d been mobbed by several Elixia members who’d just returned from a lengthy operation and asked Gallan to fetch his future bride in his stead.
A familiar face was nice, though if Maksym thought that would ease my disappointment, he was sorely mistaken.
“Now, don’t take this the wrong way, Miss Wynn…” Gallan said with ample caution as he offered his arm to me in the hall.
I paused before taking hold of his elbow. “Fire away.”
“You look resplendent when you aren’t jailed with your head in a bucket.” He tossed me a wry look, and I sighed, again.
It was only a matter of time before the comment came—I’d known that the minute I’d opened my door and Gallan’s eyes went wide. Of course I cleaned up well; I came by my half-decent looks honestly. My father was an especially handsome man—or so the women at court loved to prattle—and my mother held the sort of fair, ethereal beauty all high fae seers did.
At least, I thought she did, if decades-old memories were trustworthy.
“I wish the same could be said about seeing you in the daylight, Gallan,” I chirped back.
A bald-faced lie, of course.
I’d yet to glimpse any dark fae denizen—of the Umbrites and shifters, at least—that weren’t concerningly attractive, and that troubling concept aside, there was no way Gallan wasn’t aware.
Still, he stared at me.
“Well, well,” Gallan huffed. “You are going to give Maksym a run for his coin, aren’t you?”
“I’m not sure what you mean by that,” I said, “but if your king thought he was getting a passive spouse, he was sorely mistaken.”
“Oh no. No, no,” Gallan chuckled. “I’m certain he wasn’t under that impression at all. Now, come. The throne hall is a bit of a walk, and we’re already late.”
“We are already late?” I said incredulously. “I’m nothing of the sort, seeing as I had no idea where I was supposed to be or when.”
Gallan rolled his silver-black eyes but said nothing else.
We hustled to the main level of the Keep and through a set of double doors tucked beneath the grand staircase. A steady build in echoing activity came from down the lengthy corridor that stretched ahead of us.
“So this feast…” I drawled, casting an expectant glance up at Gallan.
“It's just that. A feast,” he said, a little too quickly.
“You know, I thought I liked you.”
Gallan’s shoulders sagged, and he pulled me to a stop halfway down the hall, casting an exasperated look at me.
“It would be better if you just experienced it,” he said. “But if you insist on knowing, there will be a speech from Maksym to rally some excitement around the tournament and to introduce you, I assume. After that, the Elixia who have not participated in recent years will draw for stones to see who among them will partake in the initiation and the events with the prospective members. Then, we will probably eat and drink until sunrise, and the Elixia who are taking part will drag their drunk arses onto their steeds and ride into Embervale to put out a call for willing participants.”
While I appreciated Gallan making some attempt at being candid with me, I’d gleaned all that already.
“Will you be drawing to take part?” I asked, and Gallan shook his head.
“Afraid not.” He flashed me an apologetic smile. “I participated in the last go-around, so I’ll be helping to oversee this time.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.” I glanced at the far end of the hall, where the cacophony of muffled noise originated from behind another set of doors. I glanced back up at Gallan and asked, “How many Elixia are there?”
He let out a slow, thoughtful breath and followed my gaze.
“There’s about forty of us, I think,” he said. “Only ten or so usually take part, depending on how the king is feeling. Our ranks haven’t diminished much recently, so I imagine he’ll stack the tournament with more Elixia and fewer prospects.”
All logical, I supposed. Not that I really understood why everything in Grimmoria was done on such a whim.
