Page 103 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

“Tell me then: how many stadiums have you competed in that are alive, hmm?” At my blank stare, he chuckled. “I thought so. Things are different here, Nor. The stadium is rife with magic, and it is formidable. We’re able to hold all the Agōn Ferr here because it can be bent to Maksym’s will, just like all Kings of Grimmoria before him. Obstacles, environments, fauna. It has the memories of thousands of years of Agōn Ferr in its walls, and it has a mind of its own sometimes, so you need to be prepared.”

The more I learned about Grimmoria, the more I wasn’t sure if I was in awe of the way magic suffused the land, or if I wanted nothing to do with it.

“Okay, the stadium is alive,” I said slowly as I took a cautious glance at the building behind us. It looked very much not alive, leaving me with a lengthy list of unsettling questions about the rest of the buildings around the Keep. “And I needed to get familiar with it right this very moment?”

“No,” he sighed. “I…can’t coax it. But if you won’t talk to me, Nor, we’re going to have to work through things another way.”

My eyebrows climbed, and I waited for him to elaborate.

“Fight me,” he added. “However angry you are with me, we’ll sort through it in there. I’ll bear the brunt of whatever you have to throw at me.”

“I’m tired⁠—”

My argument died on the tip of my tongue when Kieran reached into the thin fucking air and pulled out two quarterstaffs, one after the other. He thrust one at me before I even had a chance to quarrel with him. “We’ll come back tomorrow, and every damned day after. However long we need for you to realize I am not your enemy here. I have never been.”

23

THE BEST POSSIBLE WINGMAN

MAKSYM

They were going to kill each other. Maim, at the very least. Maybe even matching eyepatches.

And I hadn’t found it in me to consider interfering.

Neither Enora nor Jasper noticed when I slipped through one of the spectator entrances and took a seat halfway up the stadium. They hadn’t noticed when Eilir materialized beside me either, ranting away about how little thanks they get for all they do to keep the Keep and its residents upright.

I appreciated the little wood sprite more than I usually had words for, truly, but I was too damned entertained to give them much other than a few half-hearted grunts of acknowledgement.

Why Jasper had come here, of all places, I didn’t know, but in the arena, my betrothed and my mage were locked in a sparring match backed by far more than just friendly competition. Sounded like it too, with the strings of highly targeted profanities that echoed up from the princess. But far be it from me to judge how the two of them worked through fifteen years of baggage.

The sooner they found some common ground, the better. Things were going to get incredibly complicated if my wife couldn’t be in the same room as my high mage without looking like she wanted to tear him limb from limb.

My wife—fuck. That alone was going to take some time to get used to.

Enora was clearly fighting for her life down there, only further solidifying my fear that her night had been anything but the peaceful opportunity she deserved to grieve, but she was putting up a formidable effort. Thrice in the time I’d been watching, she’d dealt a blow so well-timed and powerful, she sent Jasper staggering—only for him to lay her out on her ass in the dirt a dozen more times.

I had a feeling I’d eventually have to intervene, but I couldn’t smell any blood. Yet.

“We’re in trouble with the two of them, aren’t we?” Beside me, Eilir let out a hefty sigh.

“Oh, we most certainly are,” I chuckled. “They’re as star-crossed as I’ve ever seen.”

“Star-crossed?” Eilir squeaked before they dropped their voice to a whisper. “Lovers? Max, no. There’s no way.”

I tossed the sprite a knowing glance. “Something like that. I think you must be going blind in your old age, sprite. How can you not see it? Look at them. Really look at them. That’s not just anger driving those blows.”

Eilir fixed me with a displeased scowl before casting their attention back to the arena and the two figures locked in their heated match. The sprite watched on for a long time before they finally looked back at me, conflict written all over their face.

“Well, that…that’s not right! You’re—” Eilir’s small wooden face twisted before they let out an exasperated huff. “Oh, this is a mess, Max.”

What a gross understatement.

The sprite wasn’t even the one who was going to have to figure out how to navigate marrying the childhood love of their best friend without somehow fracturing that relationship. I still didn’t have the faintest fucking idea how any of it could work without one, or all, of us being wounded in the process—and I was going to have to figure it out while dealing with the bureaucratic nightmare that was the Agōn Ferr. Oh, and a fucking wedding.

I shrugged as a rueful smile tugged at my mouth. “We’ve been through worse, haven’t we, Eilir? I’m sure we’ll figure it all out in time.”

The sprite crossed its branch-like arms and shook its head. “Now I know we’re really screwed if you’re pretending to be the optimistic one.”