Page 45 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

While I’d assumed Grimmoria would have different customs and traditions than we did in Odessa, I found myself consistently stunned.

No other nation could possibly exist that put its prisoners up in suites meant for queens, hosted them for dinner, and then invited them to unwind over cards after their meal. On top of that, I’d been given options on how to take my punishment for my alleged crimes.

Still, I wasn’t keen on spending more time with the king and his mage than I had to.

Despite the cordiality spread thick on the surface, there was something rotten beneath it all. The king sitting beside me, after all, held my life in his lithe fingers, strumming away on his glass, and I still hadn’t begun to fathom what he stood to gain out of marrying someone considered a criminal in the eyes of his kingdom.

“The invitation is appreciated, but I’ll have to pass.” I set my napkin on the table and eased my chair back. “Big decision to make in a couple of days, you see. Need plenty of time to mull it over.”

Maksym smiled, and I could’ve sworn there was a hint of disappointment in his expression I did not understand. At least the mage made sense, with his quick, silent departure from the table to go busy himself with potations adorning the sidebar.

“Of course.” The king hesitated, like he wanted to add something else, but he glanced over at the doors with a sigh instead. “Eilir?” he called out. “I know you’re hovering, you gnat. Come see Miss Wynn back to her room.”

“I really don’t need⁠—”

Maksym waved me off as one of the door panels banged off the wall and Eilir came buzzing in. I caught little of their squeaked flurry of words other than overgrown bat and I changed your bottom, but it was an amusing enough tirade for me to fight back a smile.

The king just propped his chin on his fist, giving me a look that screamed, “See what I deal with?” before Eilir turned their attention on me.

They huffed a breath as they extended their bark-covered palm to me and dipped their head. “Princess.”

Once again, I found myself in awe of just how much strength came from that tiny, unassuming body. Eilir helped me right out of my seat and made no move to let go of my hand once I was upright.

“Thank you for dinner,” I fumbled out to the king quickly before the sprite hauled me away.

Maksym tipped his head in acknowledgment, his dark hair slipping over his shoulder like a sheet of silk. “Get some rest, Miss Wynn.”

As we mapped the same route back to my room, Eilir would not shut up.

Despite my repeated assurances that no, a single dinner with their king was not enough to sway me, they were convinced Grimm’s Keep was about to become my home. They’d even thought through a plethora of grand plans for just the two of us, including trips to the town called Embervale and a beach close to the Keep.

I felt a twinge of guilt every time I had to remind the sprite I had made no commitment to their king about staying in Grimmoria or tying the rest of my life to him. But my rejections did not deter them.

“Why are you walking so fast, princess?” they chirped at me. “We’ve still got a lot to discuss!”

As if there was any reason other than the promise of a comfortable sleep that had me walking like my legs were on fire. Again. “Oh, we do? Like…”

Eilir huffed at me. “Like how I can convince you to accept Max’s gracious offer, because it is in your best interest.”

Oh, this was going to be good.

“And how is it in my best interest, Eilir? Seeing as you’ve known me for, oh…a day?”

“Well, it’s in your best interest because…” A lengthy pause followed. “Max is an excellent king and a good friend. Therefore, I’m sure he’ll make an incredibly acceptable husband.”

“Acceptable? Goddess, you really know how to peddle him like fine wares, don’t you?” I chuckled, but Eilir was scowling at me. “And what if I just don’t want to marry your sweet, dear Max, hmm? What’s your argument then?”

Eilir’s mouth gaped, baring all their sharp teeth. “The Wastes will chew you up and spit you out!” they squeaked.

“No, they won’t.”

Eilir elicited a noise that sounded awfully like a kettle about to scream. “Yes. They. Will. Princess.”

I fought the quirk in my lip, even though the sprite wasn’t wrong.

If I were to believe the king, I’d be dropped into the Wastes without a single thing to aid me in my survival, unlike the full spread of gear I’d departed Odessa with. Should luck be on my side, an outpost or encampment would come up before I starved to death, and it would only take me…months to walk to Odessa. In the unpredictable elements. With the hungry creatures that roamed those desolate lands.

The option was looking less and less promising, and a throb was building behind my eyes.