Page 99 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

ENORA

Solitude had a funny way of being unpredictable in its impact on my mental state. So often, I needed that peace more than anything. Even just an hour alone with my thoughts was such a formidable remedy to one’s woes.

But every once in a while, that alone time with my mind wreaked terrifying havoc. Unfortunately, last night was the latter.

I found my way back to the Keep and to my quarters with no interference from a mangy pack of rabid shifters, but the farther I traveled from the image of Kieran—no, Jasper—watching me leave, the more my anger festered.

Anger at him, mostly, for a list of things so large, it seemed utterly intangible, as if every bit of heartbreak and misery I’d felt in his fifteen-year absence came rushing back, furious I tried to suffocate it.

A little more irrationally, I grappled with anger toward just about everyone who was or wasn’t in my life anymore.

Maksym, for not daring to exert his divine power and send me back to my ever-miserable life in Odessa.

Eilir, for trying to make me feel at home in a place I did not belong.

I even thought about Theo, about how he’d let me go without ever putting up a fight, even though I’d spent years turning down his pursuit of settling down.

I thought about my father, too, the invincible king, and how he’d been there one minute and gone the next, and how pissed I was at him for that.

My multiple attempts to curl up on the sofa in front of the blue-flickering hearth proved to be worthless, and I found myself out on the terrace, wrapped in a blanket, before the first trickles of muted dawn lit up the horizon.

But no matter how tightly I bound myself or how closely I tucked my limbs to my body, I couldn’t stop shaking.

I wasn’t cold, or even hot, but my entire body had trembled so fiercely, my teeth were chattering, and my back ached from being bounced up against the stone exterior of the Keep. I wasn’t sure my anger had ever manifested in such a full-bodied way before.

It was beyond wanting to scream and cry, or to inflict violence on the closest inanimate object. I didn’t have the energy to do that anymore. But I had nausea in spades to go with my persistent shakes. There was an acrid burn at the back of my throat and a churning in my stomach, which only worsened the longer I sat there, fighting my body.

In all my time in Grimmoria, I’d wished endlessly to be back home, but that ache for familiarity came on fiercely.

If I’d been back in the fortress, restless and on edge, I could have wandered to the servant halls, or even over to the garrison, to find someone who had a pinch, a sip, or a puff of something to settle my existence.

Hell, I could’ve raided whatever stash of half-empty wine and spirits or stale leaves I was bound to have tucked in the cupboards of my room.

But here, I didn’t have any of those options.

There were no friendly faces to⁠—

Realization washed over me so suddenly, I scraped my shoulder on the rough exterior wall, trying to get upright and back into my room.

I did have an option, and I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about it. Maksym had been so kind to torment me with the sight of it when he’d brought me to my room that first night, after all.

The vanity chair gave a petulant groan as I dropped into it, and the drawers I yanked open in a hurry weren’t much more pleased with me. One after the other, after the other.

I just couldn’t remember where I’d put it, and I was positive there hadn’t been this many things in the drawers the last time I’d rifled through them.

But finally, on the second-to-last drawer at the bottom, I found it.

My satchel of Frost—bless Theo and his departing gift.

I didn’t give it secondary consideration before I was fighting open the corded closure with my shaking fingers, taking a heaping pinch of the fine powder within, and depositing it underneath my tongue.

The heady sweetness of it had me fighting back a cough at first, but it dissipated quickly, like always, and my heart settled as a trace of my shakiness subsisted. As I pushed up out of the chair, I definitely knocked a few pinches worth out of the pouch, but I’d clean that up after, likely with my tongue.

I wasn’t a prideful person with indulging.

Over by my bedside, I found a full pitcher of water, and I gulped down a mouthful straight from it, washing away the lingering trace of sweetness in my mouth.

The welcoming plushness of the duvet greeted my ass next, and I let out a bone-deep sigh. My limbs were a touch more lofty than I would have liked—I couldn’t remember the last time Frost had done that to me—but I wasn’t shaking anymore. Hell, maybe an hour or two of sleep was in my near future.