Page 133 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Eighty-Eight

Marietta

K eyain paced before Marietta in the living room of their suite with his jaw ground shut.

She sat on the couch, her hands clasped in her lap on her filthy dress, torn from where she fell.

Red plumed from her bruises, her knees ached and were caked with blood.

Despite looking worse for wear, she held her chin high.

“How dare you,” he whispered again, his gaze finding her.

“Are you that surprised?”

Keyain laughed mirthlessly. “I said you would be the death of me.”

“And I once said I never wanted to see your face again, so you decided to steal me away and attack my city as a cover for your actions. Did you think I would ignore all of that?”

“I suppose I’m a fool for thinking you would.” Keyain looked away.

“And you lied to me,” she hissed, hot tears running down her face, “I saw him; Tilan’s in the dungeons. He’s alive.”

The muscles in his neck tightened. “What did that bitch do?”

Marietta laughed. “Valeriya gave me the truth—that you are a liar. Why keep him here? To torture him while you fucked me, claiming me as your wife?”

Rage flashed in his eyes as Keyain turned, punching the wall next to him, splintering the wood paneling. Blood ran down his fist, his voice a growl. “Tilan is a monster. How many times do I need to say this?”

“You’re just petty and controlling. Does it excite you, having complete control over me? To make me tremble at your anger?”

Keyain glared at Marietta, his fists flexing. He turned, disappearing into his office, digging through his desk drawer. When Keyain returned, he pulled a few pages out from a file in his hand.

“What’s this?” She looked at Keyain with knitted brows.

“Look for yourself.”

The papers shook in her hands as she lifted them, her eyes taking in the notes.

Tilan’s handwriting—she would recognize it anywhere.

And gods, those were his drawings, the streaky, sketchy style of his designs, but the machines were.

.. nausea rolled in her stomach. No, Tilan hadn’t made these. Not him. Not Tilan.

The first sketch was of a device stretching out a body. The person on the rack had pointed ears, their face sketched in pain. Tilan’s handwriting made notes in the margins around the drawing.

“See those machines, Mar? Your sweet Tilan designed those himself, intended to use them against Satiros.” He laughed darkly. “I told you he was no better than me; I was just faster than him this time.”

Marietta turned the page, letting the first fall to the floor, holding the breath in her chest. Unbelievable—they weren’t Tilan’s.

The second page had sketches of large wooden blocks loaded with spears. Tilan’s notes detailed how black powder launched the spears into groups of people, impaling them. Black powder. Gods, Tilan had talked of black powder with her not that long ago.

“Keep flipping, Marietta,” Keyain hissed. “See what your husband created.”

The next was a small hand-held apparatus made from metal that, at first, appeared to be harmless. The diagram showed round compartments attached to an elongated frame with notes in the margins that denote the use of black powder to launch a metal casing that exploded on impact.

She flipped through the pages, each machine crueler than the previous. Bile climbed her throat with each sketch. Marietta leaned over the couch, her stomach spilling out to the floor. How could he have designed such evil things? How could anyone have done so?

Keyain approached her with heavy footfalls, his hand on her back.

“I hope you understand that this is what your treachery aided.” His voice choked as Marietta spit the remaining vomit in her mouth to the floor.

“I don’t know what Wyltam will do to you, but I might spare you and the baby from death if you give us the identity of your Exisotis informant because I am sure it was you leaking information. ”

The baby. Keyain still thought she was pregnant. She closed her eyes, resting her hands on her head. It was all too much. She reached to find the warmth of Therypon in her chest, calming her. “I don’t know who the informant is,” she whispered.

“How do you not know?” He lifted her chin to stare into her face, confused.

Tears blurred her vision as she sucked in a shaky breath. A knock rapped on the door at that second. Keyain sighed and walked into the other room to answer it.

“What?” he yelled. His heavy footfalls grew louder as he walked back towards Marietta in the living room. “Were you with Queen Valeriya?” His voice was stern, eyes wide.

Valeriya had given herself up so Marietta could escape. She said nothing, her gaze fixed on Keyain.

He took a few steps toward her. “Mar,” he warned. “They just captured her and found this on the scene.” The nymph dagger sat in his palm.

The tears came faster, obscuring Keyain’s form. They would kill Valeriya.

“Marietta.” He approached, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Say that Valeriya coerced you to help her; say she forced you to steal from me so I can save you and the baby.” His hand reached out for her own.

It would doom Valeriya, but if they captured her, she was likely already going to be sentenced to death for treason. Marietta closed her eyes, her breath shattering as she nodded her head.

Keyain ran to the doorway. “Marietta knows about the Queen. Send a message to Wyltam. I’ll join them soon.” The door slammed.

The message would seal her fate; Valeriya would not come out of this alive.

Keyain looked at her, his shoulders slacked. “I don’t know what I’ll do with you, Marietta. When this blows over, I doubt I can trust you to be alone, ever.”

She said nothing, her face wet with tears. There was no intention to stay—she needed to flee, to find a way to the temple. If they couldn’t protect her from the crown, she would run. Marietta would escape to Enomenos.

Keyain went and fussed in the bedroom before stepping back into the living room.

“I stationed the guards outside your room and in the hidden passage.” His voice dropped so only she could hear it.

“Don’t do anything,” he said. “This is my last chance to save you.” Keyain walked to her slowly, planting a kiss on her head before leaving out the front door.

Marietta looked at the papers again with shaking hands. Tilan was alive, but he was a monster. Her head grew dizzy. The room spun.

He was alive but a monster.