Page 57 of Of Bargains & Betrayal
In Odessa, we held an abundance of structure with our forces, elite or not. No single citizen could nominate themselves to join the highest ranks of our forces and see themselves accepted purely based on a series of trials. Every active service member started at the ground level. We went through years of academic lessons and field training before we graduated to our assessments, and those were staunch. You were given one opportunity to retry a single assessment, and if you failed again, you were sent back a year in your ranks.
Clearly, they did things differently here.
“I realize you’re probably eager to learn, and I can appreciate that, but what better way than through experience?” Gallan’s tone was pleading as he gestured back down the hall.
Begrudgingly, I continued. Not that we made it very far.
At the double doors, where the loud rumble of undeniably masculine interaction was all I could hear, Gallan hooked my arm and steered me through a small side door into a narrow straight-shot hallway. When I cast him a scrutinizing glance, he simply said, “The last thing we need right now is the scene you’d cause going through those doors with how deep they already are in their cups.”
Marvelous.
Why wouldn’t I end up being another king’s dirty little secret?
Gallan’s plan failed monumentally when we slipped into the throne room through a small side door, and sudden silence suffocated the sprawling space. A pin drop would have been damned thunderous.
“Shit,” Gallan whispered beside me.
Shit, indeed.
Sprawled out before us in the vaulted throne room was far more than the forty Elixia I had expected. Nearly that number of bodies alone surrounded the dais, allowing a glimpse of only the sweeping and sharp spire tips of the throne on it.
There were easily a hundred more bodies filling the room—soldiers, keep staff, even creatures who were certainly not any fae I was familiar with. They filled long, wooden tables topped with platters of food, steins of ale, and more wine bottles than I could count.
Not at all the feast I expected.
Through the throng of curious faces all turned toward Gallan and me, I was more relieved than I should’ve been to see Maksym weave his way through. Shockingly, there was no shadow-drenched mage at his side, and the king was not masking his exasperation well.
Nor his inebriation.
There was a slight but painfully obvious sway to Maksym’s usually graceful steps as he wove through the pile of men, who all looked like lightning had struck them or they’d fixed their eyes on delicious prey.
“Oh, thank Mina,” Maksym breathed when he was a few steps away.
From beside me, Gallan huffed, “Mina has nothing to do with this.”
I didn’t voice my full agreement as Maksym came to a stop, his attention focused on me, and hitched at the waist. My palms dampened at the shocked murmur that rippled across the cavernous space. As Maksym rose, his eyes flickered to Gallan, then back towards the Elixia mobbed around the throne. Gallan moved without a word of instruction needed, ushering the gaping and gawking service numbers from the dais.
With Maksym right in front of me, clad in a fine but wrinkled and unbuttoned jacket, I could only glean a partial view, just enough to glimpse the side of a throne that embodied the same dark stone and sharp angles as the Keep, a much smaller, bronze-backed chair beside it.
When I glanced back up at the king, he flashed me a tight, apologetic smile and offered his bargain-marked hand. As I took it, he leaned in and whispered, “Not our usual turnout, I assure you. A bit of word may have spread despite my best efforts. I promise, the formalities will not take long.”
It was as if the king had conveniently forgotten I had spent my entire life on the fringe of a court far more formal than his, having my every move judged as the king’s sole indiscretion in his otherwise perfect life. Maybe the unmistakable warmth and spice of spirits that lingered on Maksym’s breath had something to do with the sudden lapse in his memory.
“I’d appreciate it if you worried a little more about how liberally you make your promises to me,” I said with a smile that betrayed my acidic tone. “Shall we?”
Maksym’s dark brows narrowed over his stark, amber-black eyes, only further supporting my assumption that the king was more than a little intoxicated. But he nodded and curled his fingers around mine before guiding me toward the dais.
As we walked, he splayed his other hand across my back—a move that was clearly with his own uneasy steps in mind, but it sent another ripple of murmurs across the room. It sent the strangest ripple of warmth up my spine, too, but I shoved that thought aside with frightening ease as we came to a stop in front of Maksym’s throne, turning our backs to it and the diminutive seat placed beside it for me.
The finely crafted jacket Maksym wore shifted over his shoulders as he took a deep breath and looked across the packed room. Silence fell immediately, and, when Maksym spoke, there wasn’t an ounce of liquor to be found anywhere in his voice.
“As most may already be aware, our feast this evening has two important purposes. First, the season of the Agōn Ferr is about to begin!” A series of cheers and shouts rang out as fists were pumped and mugs clacked together, but they all came to a stop the moment Maksym lifted a hand.
“Tomorrow evening, the initium will take place deep beneath the Keep, as it has since time immemorial. But this means it is time for us to call upon fifteen of our brethren Elixia to spread the word in Embervale and beyond, to see who of our countrymen thinks themselves worthy of the mantle.”
As Maksym spoke, I found it hard to look away from him—even with the room full of unfamiliar faces I should have been paying attention to. But it was his use of words like we and our so casually, never him or me or you. It was always the collective we. He sounded like my father, and I wasn’t sure how to handle that.
“And I realize we are all eager to determine who will take part in the events this year and start the festivities, but I have one other important announcement to make.”
