Page 144 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Ninety-Nine

Marietta

M arietta woke with a splitting headache. Light filtered in from above her, hurting her eyes, too bright for such pain. The room spun. Her stomach churned. What had happened?

She forced open her eyes to the small room, the white walls glaring. Glancing down at herself, she saw the familiar shift dress. She was back in the infirmary.

Why?

Marietta pushed herself up, crossing her legs as she cradled her aching head.

There had been a ceremony—she was an Iros.

Therypon was inked into her skin, giving Marietta her strength.

Though dizzy, she focused on the energy under her skin.

She found none. Did she lose it? No, she had used the goddess’ power.

Why had she used it? She shook her head, frustrated as her thoughts felt thicker than honey.

A knock sounded at the door. “Yes?” she called, her voice hoarse.

The door cracked open, revealing Wyltam standing beyond. “Marietta, do you mind if I come in?”

She furrowed her brows at his question. “No?” Why would she mind?

The King took a seat across from her bed. Black marred beneath his eyes, his face ebbing with tiredness. Looking at him pulled her memory, yet she couldn’t remember why.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, crossing his leg over a knee.

“Confused, mostly.”

A brief smile flashed onto his face with a laugh. “Undoubtedly.”

Marietta frowned, staring into her lap. “I can’t think.”

“It’s the sedatives,” the King said, drawing her gaze. “Something I had argued against but lost.”

“Who’d you fight against?”

“My council.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’re to go to trial for treason.”

Marietta nodded her head. “The temple is advocating on my behalf.”

“They already have,” he said, dropping his gaze. “It didn’t go well, considering the latest charge they’ve added to your trial.”

“Even after becoming an Iros?”

The King glanced at her neck. “The risk of offending the temples was offset by another threat.”

She shifted, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed as she stared at him. “You’re going to need to explain that.”

Wyltam began to speak, but stopped, his fists clenching. The reaction stilled her heart.

“You need to tell me what’s going on, Wyltam.” Despite having no reason to hold herself with such dignity while wearing an infirmary dress, she drew up what confidence she had.

“Do you remember the front steps?”

“Front steps?” Marietta focused on that thought. Dark eyes, his hair tousled into his face. “We were on the front steps. You held my face.”

“I did,” he said, frowning. “Do you remember who else was there?”

“Keyain.”

“And who else?”

Her heart stilled. The faces of the pilinos who tried to help her flashed in her mind. Her next breath came sharply as she remembered the blood. Marietta shook as she looked at Wyltam. “People died,” she whispered.

“What do you remember, Marietta?”

“The people—the ones the guards attacked. They—they had—” Her voice trembled as each horrific scene came back.

“They did, yes.” Wyltam kept his voice soft. “But what else?”

There was a body under her hands. The King screamed—gods, Marietta shrieked herself. Why? There was intense pain, as if she were being ripped apart at the seams. Marietta’s breaths sharpened and the edges of her vision blurred. “Valeriya. Did she—” She gasped. “Is she—”

The King came to her side, placing a hand on the small of her back. “Try to breathe for me, Marietta.”

She gasped again. Wyltam dropped to his knees before her. “What color is my shirt?”

“What?” she asked.

“My shirt—what color is it?”

She gawked at him. “Black.”

“Right, and is there anything else black in the room?”

Her throat constricted, her breaths merely gasps, but Marietta searched the room. “The chair.”

“Right again. Anything else?”

In her panic, she focused on the King, her gaze scouring him. “Your hair.” She took in his features. “And your eyes.”

The corner of his mouth curled. “Close enough.”

“Why are you asking me this?” she asked, leaning away from him.

“I’m grounding you. This is real.” He took her hand. “We are real—your thoughts are memories. Now, please, take a deep breath.” She followed his orders, breathing deeply through her nose and out through her mouth. “Good.”

Wyltam kept her hands in his. “Once again, you’ve been through a tragedy, and for that, I am truly sorry.”

“What happened?” She squeezed the King’s hands, trying to control her rising panic.

“Someone attempted to assassinate you.” He paused, his thumb rubbing over her hand.

“But Valeriya stopped the crossbow bolt from hitting its mark. The details released to the public were wrong, many claiming it was an attempt on the Queen’s life.

Now, Reyila thinks I orchestrated her death because of our rumored affair. ”

Her stomach dropped. The rumored affair.

It was her fault, because they had kissed.

Because she thought she could handle court life.

She slid her hands out of Wyltam’s grip.

“The kiss—we caused this.” Her voice struggled.

“Then you just encouraged the rumors, as if you planned it all along. Did any of your words carry truth?”

“We caused nothing . Valeriya jumped in front of that crossbow bolt for you. Someone intended on you dying.” Wyltam’s eyes held hers as he took her hands again. “I meant every word I said to you, meant every kiss. There is nothing I regret from that evening.”

“Is that why you encouraged the rumors?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Keyain was close to terminating your marriage. I was trying to give it the extra push, so you could be free of him for good. When you shared the pregnancy news—”

“I’m not pregnant.”

“I know.” A slight smile hinted at his lips. “Valeriya told me, though it was a very convincing lie. You’ve come a long way.”

She shook her head.

“My intention was to never harm you, Marietta.” He raised her hand to his mouth, brushing a kiss across her knuckles. She savored the touch of him, the intimacy. “I am never a danger to you; I am on your side. Always.”

He was the elven King, kneeling before her in an infirmary bed. If he didn’t care, then he would have never come. “I see that now.”

“We can’t fight two wars.” He rested his forehead against their joined hands. “The ministers are adding her murder to the list of your charges.”

Marietta stared the blue-black strands of his hair. “That’s why the temple couldn’t help.” Her voice was far away. “They’re going to execute me.”

Wyltam raised his head, his jaw set and eyes burning. “Not if I can help it. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

She offered a weak smile. “Well, I did hand off information.”

“Sure, but you thought it was to an ally I’m trying to gain,” he said, raising his hand to cup her cheek. “So, I can argue that it’s not worth your life. I need to convince my council that an alliance with Enomenos is better than attempting to save relations with Reyila.”

“An impossible task.” Her stomach sank. “They will never side with Enomenos, not if it meant changing the laws on Pilinos.”

“I think I have a way,” Wyltam said, hesitating. “Do you mind if I have Minister Adryan come in while I ask you a few questions? He’ll need to witness your raw reaction and answers to them.”

“Who?”

“The Minister of Commerce. He was the only person besides Keyain who voted against your treason.” Wyltam paused, as if he didn’t want to say the next part. “And he was the only minister who didn’t vote for the additional murder charge.”

The only minister. In the end, Keyain protected himself. “Why did this Minister Adryan vote against them?” she said, not having the heart to bring up Keyain.

“He knew of you before you came to Satiros.”

“He did?”

The corner of his mouth tilted. “Said you’re a damn good businessperson and had an overwhelming amount of people reach out to him when news of your marriage to Keyain became public.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“You can ask him yourself, if you’d like.”

She nodded in response. Wyltam stood and went to the door, opening it to beckon in Minister Adryan.

He stood shorter than the King, with a flock of golden hair coiffed back from his face, and walked as if he wasn’t facing someone on trial for murder.

His posture was casual and his smile easy.

“Marietta Lytpier,” he said, holding out his hand. “A pleasure to finally meet you.”

She furrowed her brows at her father’s surname as she took his hand. “To finally meet me?”

“Keyain has been avoiding me for months.” He smiled and placed his hands in his pocket. “Made the mistake of telling him I have friends who have worked with you in Enomenos. Nothing but wonderful things to say.”

If she could have furrowed her brows further, she would have. “Why would a Minister of Satiros have worked with people from Enomenos?”

“A question I get often, I’m afraid. Business is business, regardless of who’s buying and who’s selling,” Adryan said. “As Minister of Commerce, I care about the economic stability of our city-state, which means I am open to the idea of trading with our neighbors.”

“A progressive view in Syllogi,” she said. “Unfortunate that there aren’t more of you.”

“There’s more than you’d think.” His smile spread, and he gestured to the King. “We should get this done, though, Your Grace.”

The two males sat on chairs across from Marietta. Wyltam nodded his head and asked, “What can you share about your parents?”

“My parents?”

“Yes.”

Marietta shook her head. “Why are you asking about them?”

“What do they do for a living?”

“At the sculpture garden, I shared with you that my mother is an herbalist.” She paused, furrowing her brows. “My father is a retired traveling merchant.”

The King nodded his head. “This is all for Adryan’s knowledge, if the questions repeat. Where do they live?”

“In Notos, about an hour outside.”

“And which city-state did you grow up in?”

“Does that really matter?”