Page 70 of Of Bargains & Betrayal

My words came from a place of jest, but the king’s eyes narrowed, and something about his posture shifted entirely, like a band of tension had pulled the full way up his spine.

“That depends entirely on the Agōn Ferr,” he articulated. “The events themselves are usually spread out over a few weeks. So, yes, it’ll likely be at least a couple of months. But I don’t see why that would be of any concern unless you were hoping for things to go to hell and back during that time? Planning for it, maybe?”

It was my turn to sit up as straight as a fencepost. “Why would I plan for that?” My voice came as an incredulous squeak.

He was quick to counter, “Why would you bring it up at all?”

Goddess take me, this man had some fucking trust issues if he couldn’t handle a simple joke. And whether he knew it, he’d just sparked an ember of anger that would not be easily snuffed.

“Because we are two strangers, Maksym,” I bit back, “and you forced me into this bargain all in the name of, what, clearing your conscience of some old debt? How is it not going to go to hell? It’s only a matter of time.”

“I forced you into nothing, Miss Wynn.” He set down his glass and shook his head with the most aggravating scoff. “I’m not sure what narrative you’re trying to paint for yourself, but it would be wise to remember you were the one carrying forgeries of my seal and trespassing in our territory.”

I was completely and utterly floored.

Was this not the same man who had kissed me after the feast, ruse or not, and had talked about our betrothal like it was a point of pride? The same one who wanted me to cheat at my initiation just so I could see it through, who carried me to my bed after it?

“Oh, how could I forget? The crime I committed, of which I have no memory and nearly died during, which my friends and countrymen did, while we were en route to fulfill a sham contract with your kingdom.” I gulped down a large mouthful of wine. “How. Could I. Forget?”

Maksym sighed. “Do you not have laws in Odessa? Ones that must be upheld, that even a king could not overrule because it is his job to be accountable to his subjects?”

A barb sat on the tip of my tongue, one that would have cut Maksym down for how little accountability mattered when his subjects treated him with such little respect, like he was a boy king making foolish decisions.

But my teeth ached from how tightly I clenched my jaw, because we did have that once upon a time in Odessa. Our laws doubled when my brother took our father’s crown, but if only the same could be said about his accountability. For as quick as he was to enact brutal stringency on a whim, he was just as fast to sweep away every egregious act of those who held an ounce of favor with him.

But I couldn’t bring myself to say a word of that to Maksym, not with how focused I was on stopping myself from leaving.

And to think, how foolish I had been, standing outside the dining room doors, locked with my nerves.

How naïve of me to think it would matter if I prettied up. Moments when I actually cared about how this dinner would unfold. When I thought maybe, just maybe, Maksym and I could get off on the right foot, see some common ground that could carry us through this situation I still hadn’t fully processed.

Foolish indeed.

I wasn’t built for relationship commitments that came willingly, let alone one under circumstances like these, and clearly, neither was Grimmoria’s king.

He let the quiet hang between us for a painfully long moment before he said, “You should find somewhere productive to redirect your temper. Training with Jasper, maybe. You’ll start tomorrow.”

My eyebrows kissed my fucking hairline, and I stared at Maksym’s infuriatingly neutral face. “My temper? That’s where we’re going with this now? First, it’s me⁠—”

The dining room doors gave a soft squeal, and footfalls carried in.

I clamped my mouth shut of my own accord—certainly not because of the shut the fuck up look Maksym cut me—and straightened in my chair.

Two staff, one of whom I was positive had served us during our dinner with the mage, set our first course out. The man exchanged a couple of hushed words with Maksym, who shook his head, before I was alone with the king again.

I would’ve been better off back in that fucking cell.

Maksym didn’t speak another word to me for the rest of our meal, and it left me absolutely fuming. That everything I touched wasn’t steaming was downright shocking.

I tried to sip the broth the king drank down with such ease, but it was hard to appreciate the flavorful mix when I wanted to separate my tablemate’s head from his body. And as course after course came, my appetite only waned until I couldn’t bring myself to taste our dessert after giving it a poke with my fork.

I realized how ironic it was that only weeks ago, I had come to terms with my fate, being sold off to a different dark fae king, destined to become a breeding mare. But the feeling stung with an awful freshness all over again. Maybe it felt worse because in my new chain of events, I had willingly sealed a bargain with a man who decided our first dinner completely alone was best spent wielding accusations, making comments about my anger, and then treating me to silence.

The hopes I’d had of him maybe having some interest in sharing anything about himself with me were dashed. Why would he, when I was clearly just a pawn in some grand scheme he’d never tell me about?

Sure, Maksym made a show of making concessions for me before we sealed our bargain. He’d even agreed to my reaching ask for other partners, but how much of that would actually come to stand? From what I understood, the magic of our bargain only pertained to the actual act of our marriage and ensuring the prevention of harm. Other than the king’s word, I had no real assurance I would ever see what I asked for.

How long before he dictated what I wore, what I ate, where I went? Or before he supervised my visits to the Keep’s library, dictating what I could and couldn’t learn. Hell, would anyone even want to risk being with the wife of a king who oozed volatility? I never thought to ask about the safety of my would-be partners should the circumstances arise.