Page 10 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Six

Valeriya

V aleriya brought her hand to her chin as she glared at her husband. “How sure are you? Her injuries were quite dire.”

With his head bent down over his notes and dismissive of Valeriya’s presence, Wyltam responded with a deep voice that didn’t match his slim frame. “Keyain assured me she’d be at the victory ball, so she’ll be there.”

Lingering near the door, she bristled at her husband’s response.

King or not, he should treat his wife with more respect.

The way he could easily dismiss her was one of many reasons Valeriya despised her husband.

Thick red curls flipped over her shoulder as she turned.

“I don’t see how. They’ve kept her under heavy sedatives. ”

A sigh escaped Wyltam’s mouth. Above his desk hovered a light globe that cast his office in the Royal’s Suite in a golden glow.

Like most days, Valeriya found Wyltam tucked away to read whatever subject he deemed worth his time.

What he studied didn’t matter—if only he put as much energy towards being the King.

He pinched the bridge of his nose as loose tendrils of black hair drifted in front of his face, hanging just below his eyes. “Keyain said she would be there.” His voice grew sharper as the conversation continued.

“He’s your friend. Wouldn’t he tell you more?

” Valeriya crossed her arms and stepped towards her husband.

She might as well press him while he felt talkative.

Somehow, the only heir to the Satiroan throne missed the charisma needed to be a leader.

Silly of her to think she could help Wyltam change.

An impossible task when he was never willing to meet her halfway.

“You do well enough by finding information on your own. Why don’t you go learn for yourself?” The inky black of his eyes stared back at her. Since the day they met, he had been cold and guarded toward Valeriya. After years of trying, she realized how fruitless any relationship would be.

“Why do you think I went to the infirmary?” She took another step towards him. “The nurses said the injuries were serious when she arrived. The poor girl—”

Wyltam raised a hand to cut her off. “You’ve already explained her injuries to me.” His hand lowered to the book, finger extended to a line as he looked between it and his papers.

“And I will continue to explain her injuries until you question Keyain about how she got them. Why would a minister’s wife be in such a dire state?

” Valeriya snapped, patience wearing thin.

How dare he act like she was being unreasonable?

Something wasn’t right about the situation.

The least he could do as the King was question his friend about what had happened.

Wyltam knew how to crawl under her skin and rub against each one of her nerves, which was why she never sought him out.

Working with Wyltam was like trying to break chains with her hands—a fruitless effort that would never work and only left her bruised.

He hindered the city-state’s success, which meant he was a threat to her legacy.

After all, Valeriya only agreed to the marriage to become a queen.

Her home, the Queendom of Reyila, sat in the Systada Mountains to the north.

All her life, Valeriya knew her sister would ascend to become its Queen, and Valeriya had done everything in her power to stay at her side.

That remained true until one thing had become clear: she would never have a legacy with the shadow her sister cast. Instead, she agreed to Wyltam’s hand after learning about his aloof work within his court.

Valeriya had thought there to be an opportunity to influence Satiros, but her husband had other ideas.

“That will be a private discussion between Keyain and me.” The deep, dull tone of his voice was devoid of emotion.

Valeriya scoffed at his unsurprising nature. “When? Whenever it suits you?” she asked, pausing in the doorway to scowl at her husband.

“When I have the time,” he replied, not bothering to look up.

“You don’t think it’s urgent that your Minister of Protection married a half-elf in secret?

” Valeriya shook her head. As if Keyain’s position of controlling the city-state guards and soldiers wasn’t enough of importance, Valeriya thought Wyltam would at least care if his oldest friend hid such a secret from him. Useless as always.

His body tensed. “Why do you care if it’s urgent?”

She narrowed her eyes. “You claim Keyain is your friend—likely your only true friend—yet you have little interest in his long, lost wife?”

He blinked, his expression unreadable. “Keyain made his choice.”

“So you don’t care that he’s married to a half-elf?”

“At this point,” he said, sighing, “he could marry a human for all I care.”

Valeriya shook her head. Wyltam and Keyain remained friends out of formality after two centuries together.

What had happened between them was somewhere between tragic and petty.

Valeriya had only learned of it through gossip.

“What is it with Keyain, my husband? Tell me, how was it that your childhood friend got to the highest position beside you, at such a young age, too? How do you feel about him marrying the half-elf behind your back after you helped him rise so high?” The sharper her voice grew with each word, the closer she leaned into her husband.

Despite her digging, his expression remained the same. “Keyain is many things to me, but at the moment, I find him to be a fool.” He lowered his head once more, placing his finger back on his book. “You’re dismissed.”

Valeriya sneered, not bothering to hide her expression.

How would he have seen it, anyway? His book swallowed his attention before she even turned.

The door slammed behind her. Wyltam made her a queen, but it was an empty title.

At most, she could affect court life. No one wrote books about queens like that.

Change inspired historians to write and bards to sing; it made for a story worth telling.

Valeriya would do everything in her power to ensure her life meant something—that her legacy lived long after her ashes scattered to the winds. To do that, she needed help.

The most useful thing about her sister Nystanya being the Queen of Reyila was that she still had powerful allies—her husband, King Auryon, included. Little did Wyltam know she had contacted them a few months ago, and their plan was already in motion.

Valeriya lifted her chin as she strode down the hall, each step carrying her farther from the male she despised.

If she wanted to make history, then the change needed to be worthy.

What better way to be remembered than to blend the pilinos and elven population of Satiros?

As it stood, anyone not fully elven was considered a lesser citizen—a traditional Syllogian societal structure—yet, in Reyila, the pilinos were equal to the elves.

With her sister’s help, Valeriya would reform Satiros by removing her husband from his throne and taking his place as its ruler.

Then, when the dust settled, they would change Chorys Dasi—King Auryon’s home city-state.

It would be a mountainous moment in history, one surely to land her name in the books for years to come.

Valeriya would be remembered, even if it cost her everything.