Page 105 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

“My gods, Marietta!” Grysella came running from behind the counter, Marietta walking to meet her.

The two embraced in a hug, laughing. “Of all the people I’d expect to walk into my shop.

” She stepped back, holding Marietta’s hands.

“Look at you! And—” Her attention fell on the group lingering at the entrance, the smile fading from her face.

“My husband and friends.” Marietta turned, gesturing to them.

“Well, welcome to The Flour Shop. It’s not every day our Minister of Protection visits,” Grysella said, her smile forced.

So she knew what happened to Tilan and her.

During the few weeks she had stayed in Olkia, Marietta and Tilan met her almost every night, the three growing close.

During the day, Grysella would stop by and experiment in the kitchen.

Marietta grabbed her arm, eyes wide. “I tried the blue cheese!”

“As did I,” Grysella said, shifting to put her hand on her hip. “And how did yours turn out?”

“Gods, awful. Did you learn how to make it work?”

Her eyes glistened. “Yes, I paired it with fig and honey—”

“I did the same!”

“But the secret was boiling the honey with balsamic vinegar and it—”

“Cut through the richness,” Marietta said, finishing her sentence with breathless excitement. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

Grysella laughed. “I actually have a few prepared in the kitchen. Come, help me grab it for you and your friends.”

Marietta started to follow when Keyain asked, “Where are you going?”

“In the back—I’m helping to bring out some samples. I need to try this.”

Keyain’s jaw tightened and Brynden leaned over, saying something Marietta couldn’t hear. Elyse stood next to him, with his arm looped around her waist, her brows furrowing. Marietta would have to explain it all later, forgetting even Elyse didn’t know about her baking days.

The kitchens were as exquisite as the bakery’s front.

High-end ovens lined one wall, the heat rolling off them with the yeastiness of fresh bread.

Scattered across the countertops were kitchen gadgets, some that Marietta recognized.

One of them was the magic-powered mixer she saw in the palace’s kitchens.

Grysella led her to the back of the kitchen, away from any of her workers. Confused, Marietta turned to her. “Why would you keep samples—”

Tears lined Grysella’s eyes. “We’ve been trying to get you out.” She placed both her hands on Marietta’s shoulders. “Forgive us for not succeeding, for letting you suffer at their hands.”

Marietta shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“This is the closest anyone has been to free you, to help you. You can’t leave now, but we could sneak you out of the palace if you meet—”

“Stop it,” Marietta said, breaking from her grasp. “What in the gods are you talking about?”

Grysella dug into her shirt, pulling out the flat golden pendant on her necklace, flashing the ‘X,’ pressed into the back. “I’m with the Exisotis. We’ve been trying to free you since the attack on Olkia. The temple of Therypon wouldn’t let us take you—”

“Did you know the entire time—about Tilan?” Anger laced Marietta’s tone, frustration from the gods’ damned organization tied so deeply to her.

Grysella looked over her shoulder towards the front. “Yes, but we don’t have time. I can explain it to you tonight if you can get out of your room.” Once more, Grysella placed her hands on Marietta’s shoulders, but she hit them away.

“All this time, you were one of them. You knew everything .” She spat the word. “Were you part of mine and Tilan’s arranged marriage as well?”

Hurt flashed across the baker’s face. “Tilan loved you so much, Marietta.”

“So much that he built our relationship with a lie?”

“So much that he took that lie to his death to keep you safe.” A tear fell from her eyes, anguish laced in her features. “Please, just listen to me. I can get you home—you could leave Satiros and go home.”

Marietta shook her head, looking around the kitchens and attempted to steel her nerves. How interlaced was the Exisotis in her life? How many friends of hers were in the organization?

Shame settled in the pit of her stomach from being back in a bakery and seeing Grysella after meeting her in Olkia.

Life in Satiros became normal to her—almost as normal as her life at home.

Her true home. How had she forgotten all of this?

How did she forget her love for Tilan? To fuck Keyain so easily?

Her breaths grew sharp, her vision tunneling as she remembered the glint of the knife, the fear in Tilan’s eyes. Now she was fucking his murderer.

There wasn’t enough air in that kitchen—enough air anywhere.

Marietta gasped, holding her sides, shaking, her vision going fuzzy at the edges.

Heat suddenly flared in her chest, the calming presence of Therypon nestled against her heart and lungs.

She sank her emotion into the warmth, the goddess soothing away the panic.

A voice rang in her head. Seek the truth.

Grysella looked down at her in equal panic, glancing back at the front. “Marietta, it’s alright. Please, meet me tonight—”

“I can’t leave.” Marietta stood and took a deep breath.

“What do you mean you can’t leave?” Grysella’s hands fell.

“I’m working with the Exisotis, getting information no one else is privy to.”

“You’re the one stealing that information? I didn’t even think of that.” She paused for a moment before reaching for Marietta’s hands. “In Enomenos, they see you and Tilan as martyrs. If freedom isn’t what I can offer you today, then I will ensure your sacrifice is known.”

“Gods, I’m not dead, Grysella.”

“Not yet,” she said with a frown. “The game you’re playing is dangerous—the crown is dangerous. If they ever catch word of what you’re doing—”

“Then I’ll die. Yes, I know.” She paused, taking her friend’s hands. “But we need to go back out there and act as nothing happened.” Grysella held her a moment longer, then nodded.

It didn’t take long to cut the flatbread.

Grysella opted for puff pastry as the base with crumbles of blue cheese, sliced fig, and the honey balsamic glaze across the top.

Marietta’s dour mood left her less than ecstatic to try it.

It felt wrong that people saw her as a martyr, all while sleeping with Keyain,

Four months had passed since Tilan’s death, but it felt like a lifetime ago.

Her entire existence in Olkia seemed like a different life, and in many ways, it was.

Though she would always love Tilan, always love her friends, she couldn’t shake the feeling that many people knew her proximity to the Exisotis.

How many times had they lied to her? Hidden the truth?

A pit of shame sat in her stomach, growing harder as they returned to the bakery’s front when she saw Keyain, saw his anger.

How did she stand being near him—gods, sleeping with him—after killing Tilan?

After he ripped her away from everything and everyone?

There she was, forgetting herself because he was a good lay and bought her fancy dresses.

It was as if she suddenly woke up from a fevered dream.

Self-hate settled at her center, spoiling her mood. Through forced smiles and fake banter, she shared the flatbread with their group. Keyain kept glancing at Marietta and she kept up the charade of being okay, but somehow, he sensed something was wrong.

At that moment, she was fortunate for Elyse and Brynden’s presence. Keyain would never ask what happened in front of them, and she was glad to put off his questioning for as long as she could.

With a brief goodbye to Grysella, the group got back into the carriage and headed to dinner.