Page 159 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

“You gave her all four, Mister Nightwing, you are positive?” the witch chirped at Gallan behind us. “First, the mix of blackgale, then the⁠—”

“For Mina’s sake, you old bat, yes,” he bemoaned. “For the third time. Yes, yes, fucking yes. All four. In the right order. Now, just help the poor woman, would you?”

The witch muttered something in unfathomably ancient Umbrite tongue and shuffled over, setting her wrinkled gray hand on Enora’s blood-crusted forehead.

There wasn’t much reaction left in the princess, but the witch lifted her eyelids—one with much more difficulty than the other—and seemed pleased with the fluttering eyes she found.

“Just one more to go, young lady.” From a pouch on her belt, the witch dug out a vial the size of a thimble and black as pitch. “This one leaves a bit more to be desired than the others.”

There was no resistance in Enora as the witch tipped her head back a bit, dumped the sludgy contents between her lips, and clamped her mouth back shut. Enora shifted a little as her chest heaved, but the witch gripped her jaw in place, and the fight vanished from her quickly. The muscles in Enora’s throat worked a few times before the witch released her.

The uncomfortable sigh the princess let out gave my already erratic heart a miserable squeeze.

“Now, everyone out!” the witch barked, and I went stiff as a post.

“Why?”

The old bat rolled her eyes as she gave me a deceptively strong shove and waved an arm toward Gallan. “Because I am not done with her yet, cursed mage. And I know you think you’ve seen all there is to know about our dark blessing, but some things are sacred. Scram, both of you. Come back in a bell or two if you wish to be useless and watch her sleep. She will wake when she is ready.”

I exhaled through my nose and brushed off the witch’s hand. The last thing I felt like doing was being anywhere that wasn’t squarely at Enora’s side, but I also wasn’t in the mood to argue with anyone, especially not a witch who’d probably seen the birth of our nation.

Gallan was already waiting for me at the door when I trudged over.

As we slipped out into the hall of Maksym’s quarters, the Umbrite cast an uneasy glance back at me. “Cursed mage… Do you think she knows about your…you know…” He gestured to his left eye.

I rolled the only one I could.

“Fuck if I know.” There were so many other things that were actually worth worrying about. “Come on. I need help cleaning Enora’s room.”

35

OLD WOUNDS TORN WIDE OPEN

ENORA

It took ages to piece together why my body felt like it did the first time a horse tossed me clean out of my saddle and straight down a mountainside.

But eventually, it all came back to me—those fucking rigged matches.

Two bouts with bright-eyed Umbrite hopefuls who I just stood a chance against, wearing me down before I was thrown in the ring with a tenured Elixia member a hundred times my age and three times my size. If not for how cocky those first two men were, and how that unearned confidence clouded their judgement, I would’ve been out early and probably on my way to the fucking gallows already.

Whoever set off those veto flares had my immense gratitude, even though I hoped to the gods I’d never have to put those pathetic thanks into words.

The chaise supporting me wasn’t the most comfortable thing I’d ever touched—though it would remain to be seen if that was because of how sore my body was. A thick fur throw had been draped over me and tucked under my chin, bringing my internal temperature to that of an active hell pit, and my legs were so awkwardly placed, I knew they’d ache awfully when I moved. One hung over the edge of the chaise while the other was half drawn up, and in that little triangle of space, with their little branch-like arms wrapped snug around my calf?

Eilir.

The sprite was curled up on their side, clinging to me for dear life, and sound asleep with their head on my thigh. I’d never understood the makeup of their wings, but they draped over me like a sheet of the softest, waif-like silk, molding to every dip and crevice. Their last remaining head-leaf twitched a little with each breath.

Beside my chaise, Jasper was asleep too, albeit a little less gracefully. He was slumped back, lips partially parted, with an open book balancing dangerously on his thigh. My attention wandered between him and Eilir, and my chest ached so furiously, I had to turn my eyes up to the ceiling.

Leave it to them to be waiting on me like I’d been brought back from the dead.

It pained me to disrupt Eilir especially, but I needed to get up. A proper bed would hopefully be my next destination, after I’d gotten off the ache-inducing arch of that chaise and figured out where exactly I was.

“Eilir?” I croaked. “Can you move, please?”

The sprite didn’t shift until a thud and a curse came from my side as Jasper’s book fell to the floor. Eilir sat up so damned fast, the motion was just a blur for my pitiful Odessan eyes.