Page 117 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Seventy-Six

Elyse

E lyse woke to the sun creeping in through the blinds. Wrapped around her was Az, holding her close under the silk sheets that covered them both.

A knock sounded on the bedroom door, startling her.

“Good morning, goddess,” Az said, his voice heavy with sleep.

He kissed her neck at the spot he bit last night, causing her body to melt into him.

His hands rubbed down her hip, Elyse realizing she was still naked.

Heat came to her face as Az murmured, “Perhaps we should try it again.”

The knock turned into a pound on the door.

“Busy,” Az called out, his hand gliding to Elyse’s center.

The door flew open, revealing Sylas. “Irresponsible—both of you.”

“Sylas, my friend, my lady is in my bed—”

“And Keyain is at the door. Just about knocked it off the hinges with his rage,” Sylas said, turning his gaze to Elyse. “You never went back last night, never sent a message saying you were staying, and he is furious. I suggest you get dressed and go, Elyse.”

But she would not go—she was staying. Elyse and Az were leaving for Chorys Dasi. She turned to Az, at a loss for what to do.

“I’ve got this,” he murmured, pressing a kiss into her temple. “Just stay in bed and rest, goddess.” Az rose from the bed fully nude and strode towards the door.

“Put some damn clothes on,” Sylas said with a scowl.

“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Az teased with a wink. For as angry as Sylas was, Az seemed optimistic, but he yielded, grabbing his underclothes.

He stepped outside with Sylas, leaving the door cracked. As Elyse lay in bed, she realized Keyain wouldn’t leave until she talked to him—until she proved she was okay.

With a sigh, Elyse stood, unsure what to put on.

All she had with her was her gown from the night prior.

Determined to find something, she walked to Az’s wardrobe and dug through his shirts.

Most were sheer or had a neckline so deep that they were no better than being naked.

Towards the end of the rack, she found a black silk tunic, simple by Az’s standard, and slipped it on, the hem hitting the top of her thigh.

Sylas and Az’s bickering carried into the room, then Sylas yelled, “What?”

Perhaps she should wait a moment, let Sylas calm down. As she inched towards the door, the words became intelligible. “You don’t even know if she can shift, Azarys!” Sylas said, anger dripping in his tone.

Azarys? Elyse must have heard him wrong.

“But I do know. I’m telling you, she takes after her mother—I felt it last night.”

“I’m sure you felt a lot of things last night,” Sylas snapped, followed by a sigh. “We don’t know how strong the traits are in her—”

“I do,” Az said, pausing. “What if I confirmed it?”

Only her breath sounded as the males stood in silence.

“Azarys, what did you do?”

There it was, that name again. Elyse pulled open the door, her brows furrowed.

The males gaped at her as Az’s face paled. “I said to wait in bed.”

“Why is he calling you Azarys?”

He said nothing, just shaking his head, running a hand through his hair.

“Answer me.” She hated the emotion choking her voice. Deep down, she knew Az being a childhood nickname was most likely a lie. Stupid, how was she always so stupid?

Sylas’ breath caught, his eyes growing wide. “Tell me that isn’t what I think it is on her neck.”

Her hand flew to the spot Az bit, touching nothing but smooth skin.

“As I said, I confirmed it.” His hand reached out to Elyse, but she recoiled.

“One of you answer me right now,” she demanded

Sylas laughed, the humor not reaching his face. “Even for you, this is too far. You are the most foolish person I have ever met.” He shot a scathing glare at Az. “I’ll let Keyain know she’ll be down in a minute.”

“She won’t be down. We’re leaving today—”

“Look at her face; she’s not going to Chorys Dasi.” Sylas gave her a sad stare, shaking his head. “At least, I wouldn’t if I were her.”

“Go,” Az demanded. Sylas took off down the hall. “Elyse, I can explain.”

“You best start.”

“My real name is Azarys.”

Tears fell from her eyes, emotion choking her throat. Of course it was.

“Don’t cry, goddess,” he said, stepping towards her. She moved away from him, his expression falling.

“You lied to me all this time. Who are you?”

“I can explain more when we get to Chorys Dasi.”

“I’m not going with you, not when I just learned your actual name,” she said, exasperated. Az grabbed for hand as she backed into the room.

“Elyse, please don’t do this.”

“What else was a lie? The ‘special elves’ and wanting to be my husband? Falling in love with me?”

“None of that was a lie. Please—”

“Stop,” she said, ripping off the borrowed shirt and slipping into her gown.

“I gave you the opportunity to be honest with me last night, yet you still didn’t tell me your real name.

If you lied about something as basic as that, then you lied about other things.

” She thought back to her dinner with Sylas, his warning now strikingly clear.

The fool isn’t the partner who was tricked, but the partner who intended to deceive .

Az came up behind her, placing a hand on her arm. “I am falling in love with you, Elyse. Please, look at me.”

She jerked from his grasp. “ Azarys ,” she hissed, “I can’t trust you, let alone move to an unfamiliar city-state with you.” Elyse hated the tears that fell, hated the hurt she felt.

Keyain was downstairs. She needed to get to him, to go back to the palace.

Her breath shook as she walked to a mirror that hung on the wall to make herself decent.

Elyse paid little mind to the tangled mess on her head and the black splotches that marred under her eyes.

No, the massive red mark on her neck drew her attention. Her hand flew to it, gasping.

Az came up behind her, a hand falling on her shoulder.

“What did you do?” she whispered.

“Elyse, please—”

She twisted away from him, holding the unzipped dress to her as she stumbled into the hallway. She was so stupid. How could she hide that from Keyain, from anyone at the palace?

Az grabbed her wrist hard enough she couldn’t pull out of it. “Please. Is this what you want?” His lips trembled as he spoke, emotion choking his words.

“Brynden!” Sylas bellowed from the first floor.

“You’re a stranger,” she whispered.

“I’m the same male,” he pleaded. “As dramatic and self-loving as ever. I’m the same male who wrote you letters, who praised your drawings. Elyse, I’m still me.”

“But who are you? I know nothing of you. And after the other type of elf nonsense that you spouted yesterday, I know you’re lying to me. About everything!” She used the heel of her hands to wipe away the tears. “I’m going back to the palace.”

She turned, but he grabbed her hand. “Okay,” he choked out.

“If that’s what you want, I won’t persuade you to stay.

” He took a steadying breath. “But you can’t tell anyone about my name, or about our elven heritage.

They will kill you if you talk, Elyse, and even I don’t have that much power to prevent it. ”

“Who are they ?”

He shook his head. “Promise me, please. You leaving is tearing me apart—” he squeezed her hand “—but I cannot handle you dying. The end of you is the end of me.”

Elyse shook her head. “You’re crazy,” she said, taking a step down the hall, but his grip held her back.

“This is breaking my heart.” He closed the space between them, his hand caressing her cheek, brushing his thumb over her lips as a tear fell from his eye. He gave a sad laugh. “Now that you’re leaving, I can feel it.”

She stared into his russet eyes, wishing he would stop talking, that he would leave the words unsaid.

“I love you, Elyse.”

She took a shattering breath. Elyse wanted to love him. She wanted to say it back. “I’m sorry.”

Stepping out of his grasp, she spared him one last glimpse. To his dark hair, pulled back but mussed from sleep. To his slightly hooked nose, set wrong after an injury in the army. His high cheekbones. His soft lips. Elyse took it all in, imprinting the details to her mind.

Sylas waited in the foyer, leaning against the opened front door, Keyain’s voice ranting on the porch step. The expression Sylas gave her was pitiful. She wanted his scowl, his amused smirk, not his pity.

“Wait,” Az called, running down the stairs to her. He cupped her face, staring into her eyes, then kissed her. His arms held her close, letting the kiss linger on her lips.

She should pull away, should tell him no, but she wanted his kiss. She wanted to wake up in his bed, the morning just a vivid nightmare. As he pulled back, the reality of the situation hit her.

“Goodbye for now, goddess. I’ll pray every day until I make my way back to you.” He lifted her hand, kissing her palm. “I will keep every promise I made to you.”

“Hurry up,” Keyain yelled.

Oh, gods, was he pissed.

She tore her gaze away from Az and walked out the front door. Sweat coated the loose-fitting training clothes that Keyain wore, his hair slick with sweat. He took one glance at her, swearing. “What happened?”

“Nothing, Keyain,” she said, making to walk past him, but he caught her arm.

“I am not in the mood for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “Tell me what happened—you’re crying, and you have a fucking mark on your neck. Did Brynden force himself on you?”

Az appeared in the doorway with a snarl on his face. “Bastard, I would never—”

“Stop,” snapped Sylas.

Elyse squeezed her eyes shut, wishing to be far away from Az. “No, he didn’t force himself on me. Can we please go?”

“Then why are you crying? And you,” he said, turning his anger towards the townhouse. “Do you get off on marking young girls, branding yourself on their necks?”

“First of all, she’s an adult—not a girl,” Az hissed. She turned to see Sylas holding him back in the doorway.

“If she acts like a child, I’ll treat her as one.”

“And second, fuck you, Keyain,” Az spat. “I’m in love with Elyse.”