Page 130 of Summer of Sacrifice

She refrained from adding fuel to the already tense fire in the room. “He’s a grown-arse man, he can feed himself.”

Grimm grinned at her, wolfish, his cheeks stuffed with pastry.

“Where is Eleanor?” Winnie changed the subject.

Laurent turned from where he’d been at the sideboard, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. “She elected to stay with Lydia and Tomás, to help the others prepare to leave.”

“You found the good stuff,” Grimm murmured to the cirque master, clapping him on the back.

“Where is your Eldritch Dreadful I hear you were supposed to bring along?” Laurent kept his voice low, Agatha wasn’t certain why.

“Ah. Woke up this morning and the bastard was gone.”

“Gone?” Laurent was incredulous.

“Vanished without a trace.” Grimm turned back to the group at large. “Grab a drink, any drink, all. This first part of the evening will hurt like Hades.”

Agatha wasn’t precisely certain where Grimm was headed first, but he was masking the fissure in his heart that she could feel acutely in the bond. And that meant she was going to need something stronger than coffee or wine. As everyone poured their drink of choice, Agatha moved to the sideboard where she had spelled a particularly old bottle of liquor into hiding upon first arriving in Merveille.

When she turned around with the bottle, Grimm was staring at her, aghast. “You wicked little witch.” He shot forward and stole it from her, laughing as he looked at the bottle. “This is essentially an elixir of the gods you’ve been hiding away.”

She smiled up at him, playful. “I was saving it for a special occasion.”

Her words faltered there at the end, and the vestiges of Grimm’s cheerfulness faded. He looked over his shoulder at all their friends chatting and drinking, then turned back to her. With a brush of his lips against her cheek, he whispered, “Everything will be all right.”

Agatha nodded, blinking too many times. As he poured her drink, she watched the mask of a rebellion leader fall over Grimm’s features, pulsing away his sadness, hiding it away. He handed her the glass with a resolute smile that did not meet his eyes.

Turning to face everyone, he forced a grin to spread across his face. “First,” Grimm said, holding his glass out wide, “how much did you miss us?”

Chuckles passed around the room and Tindle shouted, “To the prince getting over his ego!”

The chuckles turned to outright laughter and hear, hear as glasses and china clinked together.

“All right, all right,” Grimm said, making a motion for everyone to calm down. “In all seriousness, I only wanted to bring a bit of light to us all before what I’m going to say next.”

A hush went through the room. Sorscha looked at her wine. Gaius reached for Arielle’s hand.

Grimm shuffled on his feet. “You may not like me for this, but… We’ve all lost a great deal. And as versed as we all are in avoidance”—he gave a weak, watery smile—“I’m afraid we have to face it before we can face the rest of what needs to be said tonight. Before we face what awaits us at the end of our trek to Eridon?—”

“Helsvar,” Seleste corrected.

“What? Someone told me Eridon.” Grimm paused. “Who even was that?” He shook his head. “See? Much to discuss. But the fact is, we can’t go forward until we face what is behind us. What we’ve lost. Who we have lost. Thus, I am going to be the bad guy here, and make us all fucking hurt.”

Sniffles were already beginning, everyone in the room remembering their lost.

Grimm raised his glass. “To—” His voice choked off. “Ah, fuck,” he sniffed, blinking rapidly. “To my mother.” He hung his head, and Tindle stood, pulling Grimm against him.

“To Dimitri.” Tindle barely got the words out, and Grimm tucked him under his arm, murmuring something to him.

Agatha lifted her glass. “To Emile.”

Anne appeared in the doorway of the bedroom, dishevelled next to Augustus, and Sorscha hiccuped before lifting her wine high in the air. “To Ambrose and Lorelai Joubert, and Nadja Rashad who protected them.”

Winnie reached and pulled Sorscha’s head against her chest where they sat on a sofa. “To my Lilette.”

Gaius stood, Arielle’s hand still in his. “To my mother, Manu Zivai Asholm.”

Dulci came to Grimm’s other side, sandwiching him between Tindle and herself, lifting her teacup. “To Mila.” Grimm hung his head again, cursing softly, and a tear dripped to the floorboard.

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