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Custodis raised his tankard, and I lifted mine in kind.

“To being nobody,” he declared.

“To being nobody.” Our rims clinked, and a pact was made.

Chapter Thirty

VICTOR

“Definitely not. I refuse.”I glared at the offensive object Runa thrust under my nose.

Moments ago, the sorceress confirmed that Yaga was tucked safely into bed. Her snores echoed into the hall of the inn now her quest for adventure was satisfied.

The night was ours to explore.

We’d claimed a coarse table beneath a brightly striped canopy. The dirt-packed dance floor beside us teamed with twirling villagers. Huddled tightly on a short platform, a ragtag group of musicians played a rhythmic song with an enthusiastic beat.

“Have I led you astray yet?”

I scowled. “The puppet show was fairly disturbing.” It wasn’t often that you discovered an exact replica of yourself made from sticks and scraps charging across a miniature stage.

Runa laughed. “I thought you were quite dashing when you defeated the mighty dragon.”

“I’m pretty sure my silver hair was stolen from a horse’sass.” The fairytale was a comedic reenactment of my adventures in the pits. Apparently, news of the lost king’s return blazed like a wildfire across the land.

“Why anyone would want to entertain children with that story is beyond me.”

Runa grew serious. “You’ve given them hope.”

“It’s a shame that hope is based on fiction.” The villagers assumed I was there to save them. They assumeda lot.

At my declaration, Runa grew somber, her joy sliding away like globs of caramel on tart fruit.

The loss of her smile kicked me in the stomach. I turned her attention back to the dessert she held. “Tell me more about this treat you insist I try.”

She waggled the goo-covered sweet under my nose, her smile returning. “I promise you have not truly lived until you’ve tried a candied fire zapple.”

In answer, I pressed my lips together.

Runa used my silence to work more of her wiles on me, rolling out her bottom lip, blinking thick lashes. It was a childish tactic that was beneath her and delightfully entertaining.

I’d not seen this playful side of her before. She was a much different person without her brothers and the threat of Idris’s trials hanging over her head.

I had to admit, I didn’t hate it. “Nice try. The answer is still no.”

So far, I’d experienced—or rather Morgue Sweatzer, a name Runa had given me—had experienced everything the festival had to offer, from drinking games to something called “arm wrestling,” a game of strength in which I’d excelled. To a challenge with feathered darts where Runa had won a miniature dragon figurine, which she’d promptly gifted to me, tucking it into my pocket.

I had to draw the line somewhere.

At my continued obstinance, Runa narrowed her sparklingeyes. Even with the glamour, I sensed this look meant trouble for me.

“Remember those boons you promised me in exchange for my help?”

I groaned. “I knew that would come back to bite me.”

She held up a finger. “I’m calling in the first one.”

“Fine,” I growled. It wasn’t enough that we’d sampled every fermented brew in the village, carved hideous faces into gourds, nor lost several coins while gambling on a maze full of racing rodents.