Page 139 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Ninety-Four

Elyse

T he King’s office looked as it always had.

Bookcases lined the room with small glass apparatuses scattered among the volumes.

The desk remained covered with Elyse’s notes and stacks of books she liked to reference.

It was familiar, a home. Something her father had never given her, not truly, at least.

Her father’s presence marred her sanctuary, his presence a disease in the first place she felt in control, felt that she had power.

To see him stand among it made the aithyr curl deeper inside her body, begging to be released.

In the haze of the Mage’s Eye, she glared at the male who dared to make her submit.

Never again would he be given the chance.

“You,” her father hissed, lips curled into a snarl. “I told you he was too good for you. Do you understand why you needed to listen to me? Do you think you could’ve won his hand on your own?”

Despite his tone, a cool calm remained over Elyse. “Did you ever think that as my father, you should have told me the truth?”

“This is all your fault, you stupid—”

Elyse whipped her hand out, releasing the aithyr as wind, the magic blasting her father to the back of the room. He slid to the ground, shattered glass from the King’s possessions around him. Aithyr flooded her again, shifting under her skin, anticipating its release.

“You’re going to end up just like her,” her father said with a laugh, bringing his hand to his head and seeing the blood she drew. “Right now, I can see what she was in you. As you let aithyr in, it will take control.”

“I control the aithyr.”

He laughed, tears forming in his eyes. “Elyse, you look like me, but you are your mother through and through. Go ahead; dive deeper. Be a burden just like your mother, and see who pushes you to your death.”

An unprecedented rage built at her father’s words.

To mention her mother’s death after he was the one to push her from the tower, then lie to everyone that she took her own life, was more than she could handle.

Elyse saw it. She had watched her father push her mother before he turned to her and threw her to the ground.

Elyse had barely escaped his wrath then.

She had fled to her mother at the base of the tower, remaining at her side as she took her last breath.

Until now, Elyse had blocked it out. Until now, Elyse forgot the extent of her pain—and the extent of her fury.

“Wyltam!” Elyse screamed, drawing on the aithyr. The air in her father’s lungs pulled out of his chest with her effort, slumping him over as he clawed at his throat. And then she released it, letting him catch his breath. “I will be no one’s burden—never have I been, never will I be.

He laughed again, and Elyse tore the air from his lungs once more.

“I despise you, father. I hate everything you are and everything you did to me. You’re a murderer and a monster.

I’m disgusted that I ever listened to you—that I didn’t fight back sooner.

” Her father gasped as she let the breath reenter his lungs.

“I will never feel pain caused by you again.” Elyse focused the aithyr on her muscles, amplifying her strength as she kicked him in the ribs with a sickening crack.

She screamed, kicking again and again, until her father curled up in the ball, his cries mixing with her own. Elyse hated him, loathed everything he stood for, and using aithyr to bring him that pain felt glorious. So, she kicked. His bones caved in, and she ignored any injury to herself.

When someone wrapped their arms around her, she flailed, screaming, fighting to break free. Sharp pain dug into her hand as the aithyr faded away, slipping from her grasp. “No, no!” she screamed.

“Elyse, stop! It’s me!”

She looked up to see Wynn, his hand holding her head. Through the haziness of her rage, she recognized his fear.

“Fuck, this is Elyse?”

Elyse turned to find a half-elven female with short black hair.

Wynn drew her gaze back to him. “Tell us what happened.”

“The Chorys Dasians—Brynden. His name is Azarys—he’s the prince.” Elyse grew dizzy, Wynn holding her up.

“Valeriya shared as much,” said the half elf’s husky voice.

“My father’s working with them,” she choked out, black edging her vision.

Wynn spoke, his voice muffled through his chest as she leaned against him.

Control. Elyse had actual control. That was the beauty of aithyr, the key to her future.

As her mind drifted off, Elyse watched the swirls of energy around her, though the aithyr wouldn’t approach her body as if she was deterring it. A humanoid form stood at her side, all aithyr and beautiful. It caressed her face, Elyse trying to feel it with her hand.

Nothing had ever felt so right.

Nothing had ever felt so wonderful.

Her hands grasped at the air as she passed out in Wynn’s arms.