Page 113 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

My voice broke, and I shook my head.

The hardened expression on Jasper’s face softened slightly, but that made things worse.

I didn’t give him a chance to say anything else before I took off from the archives.

25

SPARK, FLICKER, FLAME, SMOTHER

ENORA

15 years ago – Caenleigh Fortress, Odessa

My heart pounded as I hustled across the packed lower bailey with a stolen bottle of wine poorly disguised in my bag, dodging groups of revelers and distant calls out of my name. I’d apologize for that later, when I didn’t have the missive to end all missives propelling me forward at an unflappable speed.

I, Enora Wynn, would never again spend another summer as the bastard princess who’d never been kissed. Sixteen years was far too long.

It had taken damn near forever to escape my father and the high-brow Turning celebration he was hosting with the aristocracy in the neatly coiffed upper bailey.

His renewed—and failing—efforts to see me included in proper court events were appreciated but highly unnecessary when they were the last place I ever wanted to be. I knew his wife felt the same, scowling at me like I was a smear of dirt on one of her prized needleworks.

Somehow, she didn’t see how ugly they were to begin with, but that was beside the point.

I entertained my father’s wishes for hours, wedged forcefully at his side with his arm wrapped around my shoulders, sporting a plastered-on smile that made my cheeks ache. But the moment one of his yellow-toothed, bulgy-eyed chancellors requested his undivided attention and my father slipped away with him, I bolted.

It was easy enough to take the perimeter of the garden unnoticed, swipe a bottle of mystery wine from a table, and slink back through a passage hall amidst a wave of fortress attendants. I’d already stashed my bag and comfortable boots behind a planter near the exit to the lower bailey—I just needed a moment to ditch my irritating silk slippers. Then, I was well and truly free.

Cue the full rush of giddy unease I’d been holding back all night.

I kept my clammy hands clutched at my sides as I sought my quarry—my prey, really—among the writhing revelry of common-folk filling the lower lands. Though half the faces around were anything but common—illustrious merchants, tradesmen, and their families—it seemed we all preferred to spend our Turning celebrations not worrying about how pressed our finery was, or if our jewels had been shined with holy oil or not.

I couldn’t blame anyone, not with how addictive it was to be in the sights, smells, and sounds of people truly enjoying themselves all in the name of the turn of the seasons.

Well, maybe I could do with less of the smells.

If all went according to plan, I’d be well away from it all soon enough.

Normally, I wasn’t a fan of my height—full-blooded Odessan women were so much more petite than me—but it meant it only took minutes for me to spot a shock of messy, snow-white hair out in the crowds and map the quickest path to its owner.

Much to my surprise, Kieran wasn’t alone.

Spread around one of many braziers set around the curtain wall, my best friend was chatting with a half-dozen other boys who looked our age, though it was always a little hard to tell, with how they all seemed to be sprouting height by the minute now.

I knew one for certain was a merchant’s son, and another was one of Kieran’s peers in mage training, but I couldn’t fathom the others.

Not that their identities mattered, but their presence only made a flush creep up my chest.

And, of course, it was one of those unknown boys who turned their attention on me with a brow raised in curiosity. I probably was a strange sight, with my softly layered skirt, leather riding boots, and shoulder bag that had been patched back together a few dozen times.

All six other heads turned to face me in rapid succession.

“Enora?” both Kieran and the merchant’s son said over top of each other.

“Happy Turning.” I plastered on a tight smile. “Are you busy, Kier, or…?”

He shook his head and broke away from the group, setting his hand on my back as he steered me away a few steps.

We both ignored the low whistles that followed us.