Page 109 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Seventy-One

Marietta

K eyain warned Marietta not to say another word until they reached the carriage.

For once, she listened. When the cab door snapped shut, he released his rage.

“Are you out of your fucking mind?” Keyain yelled, sitting across from her as the vehicle moved forward.

“First the bakery, then your attitude at dinner.” He shook his head, face red with veins bulging in his neck.

Marietta rolled her eyes and turned her gaze outside the window. “Let’s talk about your sulking attitude at dinner instead.”

“My attitude?” Keyain scoffed. “How in the hells was I to explain to Brynden and Elyse that my wife, a noble lady, befriended a baker? Learned how to bake?”

Marietta laughed, glancing at him. “You could’ve just said your basic clip wife came from humble beginnings.

A life away from such pageantry.” She gestured to her dress, which she realized was frivolous; a stupid object from Keyain to adore.

Just like how she was stupid enough to let her guard down around him.

“What happened in the back of the bakery?”

“Nothing,” she responded, watching an elven couple hold hands as they walked along the sidewalk.

Keyain’s fingers appeared in front of her face, snapping. “Look at me, Marietta.”

Out of stubbornness, she continued to stare out the window.

Keyain grabbed her chin, jerking her face at him. “What happened? And don’t say ‘nothing.’ How do you know her?”

Marietta fought against his grip, but it held true. “I was a baker, Keyain! A gods damned good one, too. I made a name for myself—even the chef at the palace knew of my bakery.”

She wasn’t sure what grew wider—his alarmed eyes or his flaring nostrils.

“And why would you know that?”

She cut him a sharp smile. “Because I’ve used the kitchens to bake.”

“You did what?” he growled, his grip tightening.

“Twice.”

Keyain’s breathing turned ragged, his face a violent shade of red. “I’ve been protecting your past this whole time, lying to everyone about how you were in Enomenos. And now you’re telling me you’re baking in the palace kitchens, pretending to be a baker?”

“I am a baker,” she snapped.

“Not anymore, Marietta. I had your building condemned in Olkia—it was the first thing I did when the dust settled. You are my wife, you are a noble lady at the court of Satiros, and you must act like it.” He drew his face close.

“For both your sake and mine, realize how dangerous our positions are.”

Marietta gripped Keyain’s chin with equal strength. Surprise flashed across his features. “I am a merchant, a baker, and a noblewoman. You can erase my scars, can pretend my past wasn’t real, but you will never take away the former versions of myself. Do you understand?”

Keyain’s breathing turned rapid, his eyes searching her expression. And then he kissed her, pulling her forward into his grasp. His hands caressed her head, her hip, then her ass, frantic and searching for something that wasn’t there.

Marietta pushed him away. “Don’t you dare,” she hissed, moving to the cab door. She hit the wall where the driver was, the carriage coming to a halt. “Sex won’t fix this fight, Keyain.” She threw open the door and stepped into the night.

How dare he touch her like that, in the middle of a fight, no less? With all her strength, she slammed the carriage door, partially surprised Keyain didn’t jump out after her. Before Marietta could start walking down the street, Amryth was at her side.

“Where are you going?” she asked, placing a halting hand on Marietta.

“To a tavern.”

“And what tavern is that, Marietta?” She gave her usual unimpressed expression, but Marietta saw the concern lying beneath it.

“Who knows? Take me to the safest tavern in Satiros, I guess.” Marietta wanted something—anything—to feel like her old self.

Amryth sighed, looking back into the carriage. “What happened with him?”

“He grabbed me, so I left.”

Amryth’s expression darkened before looking at the other guards. “I’m taking her to the Snapdragon.” Then she looped Marietta’s arm with hers. “It’s a bit of a walk, but you might need it. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you so upset.”

Marietta only nodded her head, not having the heart to tell Amryth it was because she forgot herself—forgot who she was.

The day’s heat gave way to a comfortable evening, warm with a gentle breeze casting the sweet floral scent of wisteria in the air.

The glow from the light globes drifting above the city street gave the buildings a golden hue, reminding Marietta of her bakery’s facade.

If anger didn’t pollute her attitude, then perhaps she’d take a moment to appreciate it.

To sour her mood further, denizens strolling the city gawked at her, arm in arm with a guard, donned in a pearled dress and finery. Without a doubt, they realized who Marietta was. What other half-elf would have such a gown or guard at their arm?

A moment later, Marietta sensed someone approaching from behind.

She turned, expecting to find Keyain, but it was the other soldier.

An elven male with similar bulk to Keyain, but he moved with feline grace and quiet steps.

Tied into a neat knot was his curly brown hair, a few locks breaking free around the top of his high cheekbones; his eyes were a shocking shade of blue, as pale as ice.

A thick scar forked from the top of his left cheekbone to the corner of his mouth.

“Three makes a party,” Marietta said, dismissing him and continuing down the street.

“The phrase is three makes a crowd, Lady Marietta,” he said, amusement in his tone as he came up to her side.

“Well, with how much I plan to drink, it’ll be a party. What’s your name?”

“Wynn.”

Marietta turned to Amryth. “And how well do you know this Wynn?”

“I don’t,” she said, her gaze narrowing at him. “Wynn is one of King Wyltam’s guards, if you will.”

Marietta turned her attention back to Wynn, taking him in. “Why would the King send one of his soldiers with us this evening?”

“The King warned me you’d ask a lot of questions, but also told me not answering them would make you bristle,” he said, with his lips tilted up to one side. “And I wasn’t aware we’d be deviating to a tavern. If my judgment serves me well, Keyain will be here in a moment.”

Marietta rolled her eyes. “Just because he has a piece of paper saying we’re married doesn’t mean I’m going to listen to his demands.”

Wynn considered her words, smiling. “I was also told you’d be quite brash.”

“Some call it brash. Others call it independent. Pick your interpretation.”

Amryth huffed a laugh beside her. “I’d call it both.”

“They’re not mutually exclusive,” mused Wynn.

“Then let’s add it to my title. ‘Lady Marietta Vallynte, First Half-Elven Lady, Favored by the Gods, and Brashly Independent.’”

The guards laughed as Marietta heard Keyain’s heavy footfalls before he reached their group. “That’s far enough.” His tone was authoritative as if she were one of his soldiers; but she ignored him, continuing to walk.

Keyain’s hand gripped her forearm, jerking her around.

“I said that’s far enough, Marietta.” She expected to see the red-faced Keyain from the carriage, but he had collected himself.

Based on the grip on her arm, he still fumed on the inside.

Behind him were a handful more guards from the carriage, who exchanged glances with one another.

“Let go of me,” she hissed, trying to pull out of his grasp.

Wynn reached out, grabbing Keyain’s wrist. “It’d be a wise decision to let go of Lady Marietta. King Wyltam already gave his blessing for her to go to a tavern.”

Marietta shot him a confused look, to which he responded to tapping his temple, whatever that meant.

Keyain glared at him, removing his hand from Marietta. “Fine. If Wyltam deems it necessary, then we’ll go to Marietta’s little tavern.”

“Good,” she said, turning her back to him. “Amryth, lead the way.”

The tavern wasn’t much further, a couple of blocks, and then a turn down a side street.

Amryth’s smirk caught her attention as they arrived.

“Keyain’s reaction should be pleasant.” And she pushed open the door, the inside clean and airy, but the typical casualness she would expect.

Seated at long tables were elves clad in green uniforms, all with jackets undone.

Marietta smirked as Keyain swore behind her.

“Don’t you want the safest tavern in Satiros for your wife, sir?” Amryth asked. “The safest is one filled with your soldiers.” She kept her face serious, nothing to hint at the smirk from moments ago.

Marietta wanted to hug Amryth; it was perfect.

“Watch the entrances,” Keyain said, turning to the guards that traveled with them. “Nyx and Allyn, take the back alley. Wynn, I want you inside, but near the door. The rest, keep a close eye on the street.”

The guards placed their fists over their hearts before departing, all but Wynn, who had a bemused stare at Keyain. He clasped his shoulder as he passed, Keyain scowling at the action.

Marietta stifled her laugh as she wove through the tables, choosing a table at the edge of the dance floor at the center of the room. Keyain hastily pulled out her chair as she sat, then took the one next to her, hand gripping her thigh.

“Amryth, sit, please.” Marietta gestured to the seat across from her, earning a look from Keyain. “We’re doing things my way now. Loosen up a bit, will you? Always a pain in the ass.”

He glowered at her, anger radiating from his gaze. Gods, even saying that line didn’t crack a smile on him. Good, let him stew in his anger.

Their arrival caught the attention of the tavern dwellers. Soldiers from the other tables glanced over, some paying and leaving the tavern. The musician troupe changed from casual tavern songs to a more melodic and formal tune.