Page 48 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

I shouldn’t have been surprised that the tiny, fantastical sprite picking at its fingers in front of me should be capable of such a thing.

“So if you can plane step…” I drew out, and Eilir’s attention bounced back up. “Can you take me right to Maksym? I’d like to speak with him.”

Their black, beady eyes widened, but that bit of interest fell quickly from their face. “I can take you to him, of course, but…you must walk. And I’ll fly with you. I can’t step both of us. You’re too…”

They winced.

I cocked my head. “I’m too what?”

“Big!” they squeaked before waving their hands wildly. “Not…not like that. I don’t mean big, big. But just too big for me, you know? Too tall. Too much mortal meat on your bones. I’d split you in thirds between here, in between, and there. Maybe more than thirds, I don’t know. It’d be such a⁠—”

“It’s fine,” I sighed, even though I was fighting a smile. “Do you know where Maksym is right now, though? I’ll walk. I don’t mind.”

One of Eilir’s eyes twitched as they glanced up at the vaulted ceiling. A long enough moment passed that I was about to ask if they were alright, but they suddenly nodded and said, “I do! He’s occupied, though. Always busy in the morning, that one.”

“Well, that’s unfortunate for him,” I said. “Take me to the king.”

About halfway to wherever Eilir was taking me, I realized occupied could’ve meant the king was fixed square between some beings legs in his bed, getting his morning fill. Hell, he could’ve had an entire squad laid out with him to start his day.

No better way to kick things off, I supposed.

But as we traversed hallway after hallway, and Eilir chittered on about nothing of value, we ended up in a wing that felt far less residential.

The plentiful tapestries with brutal depictions and soft textures gave way to walls that were spans of black stone or framed with arched windows, looking out over a gloomy morning. Moving bodies built around me, and curious looks increased. When we finally passed through a set of doors guarded by two dark fae men who looked hesitant to let me in, I felt like I’d stepped into the council hall in Odessa.

The dark stone was a stark contrast to the soft, sandy tones of my home, but the ornamental weaponry adorning every bare inch of wall space was much the same. Even for my soldier’s tastes, it was gaudy. The moving bodies in here changed too. Fewer neat, practical tunics and dresses, more uniforms. Conversations were a little more hushed, stares a lot more judgmental.

Eilir didn’t fucking shut up, though.

They kept squabbling away about this Embervale place and the sweet treats that were plentiful there, while I was preoccupied trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone for too long, despite my budding curiosity. Growing up at the fortress, there’d been a handful of dark fae—Umbrites, I suppose—around. Mostly trade workers seeking refuge from the Wastes, but they’d been just a splotch of ink amongst a lake of Odessans.

But here, I was the silver pinprick in a tenebrous ocean.

It was hard not to stare at their pointed ears compared to my rounded ones. The varying blue-gray tones of their skin that made my light-gold tan seem so boring. Their striking eyes, all vibrant, gemstone colors set in pools of black. Not all had horns, but the ones I saw came in all shapes and sizes.

It had been one thing to take in Maksym or Gallan’s ethereal beauty alone, but it was an entirely unique thing to see it everywhere.

As we neared the end of the hall, though, after passing a multitude of guarded entryways, I nearly tripped over my own feet. To the side of the next set of imposing doors, a group of men were gathered, talking in hushed tones, and they looked an awful lot like my people.

Golden skin.

Sandy blond and brown hair.

Light eyes.

Their clothing was a little strange—gauzy, draped fabric in creamy colors—but my jaw was slack.

I turned to Eilir, but the sprite was shaking their head, tsking.

“You sure you need to talk to Max right this second?” they asked me, a little pleading. “He’s never in a hospitable mood after Malakai and the tribes come around.”

“The tribes?”

Eilir cocked their head. “The shifter tribes? From the Wilds? They hold seats on his council, and I’m not sure he’s ever regretted something so much.”

“Oh,” I breathed.

I knew, of course, of shifters. Another group lumped under the umbrella of dark fae all those millennia ago. Traditional inhabitants of the Wilds, vast plains nestled between Grimmoria and high fae territory, they could take on the appearance of canids most often, but also various birds, on a whim.