Page 118 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)
Keyain huffed a dry laugh. “Both of you are children.” Keyain handed her a cloak. “Put that on. Wouldn’t want your dress from yesterday to be so obvious when we walk back.”
“Take our carriage,” Sylas offered, with his hand still on Az’s chest as he pushed him back. “It’s the least we can do.”
Keyain glared at Elyse. “I think she’s going to need the whole walk back to explain what in the hells happened. You’re a good male, Sylas. Consider switching courts or finding new friends, ones that won’t continue to drag your reputation down.”
Elyse dared to look at Sylas, who stared at her with furrowed brows. “I’ve considered it,” he said.
“Come on.” Keyain fastened the cloak around her and pulled her down the walkway.
“Elyse, I love you. Don’t doubt it for a min—” The front door slammed shut, cutting off his sentence, but it didn’t snuff the muffled yells coming from the townhouse.
“Talk,” Keyain said, his tone demanding. He had never been like this towards her.
“I messed up, and I’m sorry. I should have sent a note—”
“You should have, but I’m more concerned about why you’re upset now. If he forced himself on you—”
“I wanted him, Keyain,” she said. “I don’t want to talk about it.” She couldn’t talk about it—Brynden was a fake and Az was a liar.
Keyain pestered her for the rest of the walk, questioning her like the night in the infirmary; yet she said nothing—revealed nothing. Frustrated, Keyain tried yelling at her, demanding her to say something, anything. But she remained quiet. Nothing but the truth could explain what happened.
Over the course of the walk back, her heart broke piece by piece, step by step. I love you, Elyse . But he didn’t love her enough to tell her the truth.
She was so gods damned stupid. Stupid to trust a stranger, to let herself be so vulnerable. Stupid because she was falling in love with him, too, and with each broken piece of her heart, she knew how true it was.
Once back in her suite, she then had to convince Keyain to leave, that she would be fine on her own—because she would be. At least she told herself that.
She leaned against the front door, head tilted to the ceiling as the tears came. Slow at first, then a steady stream. A sob escaped her mouth. Elyse felt dirty, could still feel his hands on her. Yes, she wanted Brynden, but not Azarys . He was a stranger, and she let him in.
She pushed off the door, heading to her bedroom, when someone cleared their throat. Startled, she looked towards her study to find her father. “Get over here.”
Elyse wanted to resist, thought of running out the door for help. He shouldn’t be here. Anger blossomed in her gut—a seething rage because he knew. Her father knew everything.
“Quite a look for you, daughter,” he said as she approached. “Pairs nicely with the image you portrayed last night. I hate to ask, but Sauntyr asked me to find out. Are you taking anything to prevent pregnancy?”
Elyse’s heat froze, her anger giving way to panic. Gods, she hadn’t thought about that.
Her father laughed. “Of course not. Though pregnancy is unlikely, if you carry Az’s child, Chorys Dasi would take custody of the babe—”
“You mean if we bred?” she said, repeating Az’s terms from the night before.
Her father blinked. “So you know both his name and our true forms.” He shook his head, standing up.
“A shame, really.” From his pocket, he pulled out a vial of Choke.
The liquid inside appeared murkier, the vial larger.
Her father stalked toward her. Every instinct said to flee, but fear locked her in place.
“You’re too curious for your own good, and now you’ve grown close with the King.
You’re a risk, and we have no reason to trust you anymore.
” His hand reached out, grabbing where the base of her head met her neck.
“Did you enjoy your freedom while it lasted?”
“What are you talking about?” she whispered, shrinking away from him.
“Do you think after all I have done for you that I would allow you to just walk away?” Her father laughed, a smile tugging at his lips. “You are wanted by many and have grown ever more useful to me. You refused Az, and now I have to drag you to Chorys Dasi myself.” He shook the vial in his hand.
“No,” she hissed, stepping away from his grasp. “You need to leave.”
His grip tightened, taking his strength and throwing her to the ground. The smack of her head against the wall made lights dance in her eyes. Her father loomed over her. “Who’s going to stop me?”
“You’re a terrible father who—”
He kicked her in the ribs, knocking the air from her chest. Another kick landed on her hip. She gasped for air, remembering back to the day she ran from Az when he and Keyain fought in the Central Garden.
“I gave you more than you realize and you disowned me. And for what? So you could fuck Azarys? Study magic? You are the worst parts of your mother, and it disgusts me. No one will be there to take care of you when your mind goes, Elyse. Not Keyain, not the King, and definitely not Az. I’m the only one who will be there when it does. ”
No, he wouldn’t.
Her father would push her to her death, as he did with her mother.
A calm rage washed over her as she stared up at her father. He pushed his honey-colored hair from his face—the same hair as hers. Elyse may look like her father, but she refused to be his .
The aithyr came to her easily, curling inside her body and for once not bucking against her control.
As her father went to toss the vial at her, she raised her hand.
“No,” she hissed. “Never again.” A gust shot from her hand, the force snapping into her father as he flew backward.
There was a sickening crack as his back hit her desk.
Her father hissed and looked at her. “You will regret that, you stupid bitch.”
Panic seized her heart. At his tone, at his expression. As she tried to focus once more, she tried and failed to reach the aithyr.
Her father pushed himself up. Before he could narrow the space between them, she jumped to her feet and sprinted from the room. He caught her cloak, the fabric jerking her back at the neck. She reached around, ripping it from his grasp.
“Stop fighting your fate.”
Her father followed her as she ran into her bedroom and made for the bathroom.
As she turned to slam the door, his foot blocked the jam.
“Do you seriously think I’d ever let you go?
” He laughed darkly. “Did you think any Satiroan law would prevent me from using you as I intended? You were made from the beginning to help my position rise, Elyse. The sooner you accept it, the sooner we can be done with the drama.”
He pushed on the door and Elyse pushed back, her heart thundering in her chest. This was bad—worse than bad. Her father had no intention of letting her go, no intention of letting her be free. She couldn’t let that happen.
As her father began to win the push on the door, Elyse focused her mind and let the aithyr creep in.
The energy thrummed under her skin. She reached through the crack, grasping her father’s arm, and imagined lightning.
Sparks emanated from her hand and shot up her father’s arm, causing him to scream out in pain.
For a moment, he stepped back and Elyse slammed the door on his face, locking it.
His fist hit the door as she backed away from it. “You fucking bitch.” He hit the door again. “You’ll have to come out, eventually. I’ll be waiting for when you do.” The sound of his footsteps faded as he left her bedroom.
Elyse couldn’t leave. She wished she could do the magic Sylas had done last night, to message someone to help her. Someone would come eventually. That door wouldn’t open until she knew it was safe.
Determined to wait for help, Elyse sat on the edge of her tub. From where she sat, she saw her reflection. Ragged, with a mess of hair, smears of makeup under her eyes, and the mark still on her neck. Her hand shook as she raised it to the redness, checking for a bump. What did he do to her?
A sob worked its way from her chest, spilling out her eyes.
Her breaths were quick to come, not enough air filling her.
Last night, she had thought she’d be readying herself to leave for Chorys Dasi.
Now, she was locked in her bathroom with tears staining her cheeks.
Foolish of her to ever think she’d ever be with him.
His name was a curse, neither Brynden nor Azarys in her mind.
To think of his being, of his words, were like knives in her chest. I love you, Elyse .
The pain hurt more than she imagined as she slumped to the floor and tucked her knees into her chest. Those words would haunt her, torment her for the response she would never give him.
I love you, Az.