Page 19 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Fifteen

Elyse

A lcohol swirled in Elyse’s cup, the red liquid her crutch for the evening. At her arm was Lord Brynden Vazlyte, an emissary from Chorys Dasi, who was in Satiros to work with her father.

Convenient he came the week of the victory ball.

More convenient her father could parade Elyse on such a prominent person’s arm.

It was unnerving how easily he could pass her from one male to the next.

Though, why should she complain? Brynden was alluring.

Even without looking at him, she was aware of his confident disposition.

On an average day, anxious thoughts would pollute Elyse’s mind. Brynden would be too attractive, too important, too… uninterested in her. Yet as alcohol coursed through her blood, those thoughts quieted. Left was just Elyse, the insignificant daughter of a minister.

The black silky fabric of her dress hugged her willowy frame with a square neckline that pushed up her chest. Little was left to imagination—just the way her father preferred her to dress on such occasions.

Tease and tempt, but never give her father had reminded her before they departed from the suite earlier that evening.

That was her usual—or was before Keyain. The words were easy to follow, her father’s friends being five times her age, if not more. They were always drunk with the possibility of such a young creature. Brynden was different. For one, he was age-appropriate.

“How fortunate that you don’t want to dance,” he murmured in her ear. “I was afraid we’d waste the whole evening on the ballroom floor.”

The low tone of his pleasant voice caused Elyse to turn toward his slim and structured face.

His nose had a slight hook from his days as a commander in the Chorys Dasian army.

Golden hues from the light globes floating above warmed his pale olive skin.

“Fortunate, indeed,” she said, eyes lingering on him.

“Though I would dance with you if you requested it.”

He chuckled, his mouth tilting up on one side. “Your father bragged that you were obedient. I didn’t realize he was being so literal.”

Elyse glanced at her father across the Grand Ballroom, surrounded by the other visiting Chorys Dasians.

Though chatting, he glared at her and nodded to the other couples dancing.

The usual dread that would pool in her stomach silenced as she offered the slightest shake in her head.

No, he doesn’t want that. He scowled and turned back to his conversation.

“Obedience is all I know,” she replied, eyes turning to the emissary with a warm smile. His straight black hair was long through the middle and shorn close to his head on the sides, tied back in a knot. Peculiar. He wasn’t anything like her father’s other friends.

He laughed again. “Like a dog.”

“Excuse me?”

“Dogs are obedient, but the last time I checked—” he leaned away from Elyse, his stare roaming her body “—you are nothing like a dog.”

“Such a wonderful compliment, coming from a male who couldn’t get his own date.” She regretted the words as they came to her mouth, her gaze darting to her father.

“I judged too quickly,” he teased, bringing his face in front of her, his eyes on her pouting lips. “You bark like a dog, but now I wonder if you bite like one.” He flashed her a wicked smile.

She let out a long breath, locking eyes with the emissary. No, he was nothing like her father’s other friends, who only told her how beautiful she was.

Without breaking eye contact, she threw back the rest of her drink. Brynden’s brows lifted with amusement. As a servant passed, Elyse replaced her empty glass with a full one.

“That’s your fourth since dinner,” he commented, grabbing his own.

“Kind of you to notice,” she said in a honeyed voice, offering a sweet smile.

“And you hardly ate anything.”

“I don’t eat meat.”

Brynden’s mouth tilted up on one side again. “And you didn’t ask for something different?”

Her eyes darted to her father once more. “I wouldn’t want to cause any trouble.”

“But you’re causing trouble right now,” Brynden said, drawing Elyse’s face back to him, confused. “Here I am, trying to have a nice evening with my lovely date, but she’s more preoccupied with checking in with her father every two seconds.” He tsked with a mocking pout.

“My apologies. I didn’t realize my company was causing you so much misfortune,” Elyse said with mocking wide eyes.

“My misfortune indeed,” he teased, flashing a smile. “Tell me something interesting. What do you do when you’re not entertaining your father’s friends?”

“Nothing worth sharing.” She took a sip of wine before adding, “Tell me about your work in Chorys Dasi.”

“My friends say I talk way too much about myself, and I’m trying to change that.” Brynden leaned into her. “You wouldn’t want me to regress to my selfish ways, would you?”

“I would do whatever you asked of me.”

Brynden rolled his eyes, turning away as he dropped her arm. “Obedient indeed.”

Elyse didn’t even need to look to know her father watched. Shit—she needed to pull him back in. “I like to read. And I sometimes sing,” she said, her voice hushed so only he could hear in the room crowded with nobles.

Brynden looked down at his drink, then back at her. “That’s hardly nothing worth sharing. I bet your sultry voice is beautiful when you sing.”

She ignored the compliment as heat crept over her cheeks. “They’re things I’m forbidden to share,” she said, her eyes wandering over the room. “My father believes I should be silent and ill-read. I can’t go around telling his friends that I’m neither.”

Brynden’s hand reached for her own, his thumb rubbing against her skin. “There’s a risk in sharing it, yet you exposed it to me. Was it my irresistible charm?”

A laugh escaped her as she smiled, glancing down at her glass. “You do talk highly of yourself.”

“Now you sound like my friends,” he said with a chuckle. “Let’s find something fun to do. This ball is too boring and predictable.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing—predictable.”

“What if it is? Why have the same boring experience when there’s the possibility for fun all around us?” Brynden hooked his arm on her, steering her in the opposite direction of her father. “Fresh air would do us some good, don’t you think?”

“I think not,” she said, a hint of a smile to her lips.

Brynden’s head whirled to her, confusion melting back into amusement. “Oh, she can joke! Blessed by the gods, I must be!”

“Funny, you ask me not to act obedient yet mock me when I’m not.” Her hand wrapped around the bulk of his bicep as they walked.

“Well, my apologies,” he murmured, “you are under no such obligation to be obedient with me.”

As they crossed the ballroom, Elyse noticed Keyain with Marietta on his arm. Queen Valeriya talked to the pair, but her eyes darted to Brynden, offering a quick nod. So subtle that she almost missed his returning one.

“You know the Queen?” she asked.

“Queen Valeriya?” he asked, looking down at Elyse.

“Yes, you both nodded to each other,” she said, her brows furrowed.

Brynden laughed. “Four cups of wine have altered your perception. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were looking in that direction for your previously betrothed.”

Elyse tore her gaze away, staring straight ahead. Her father had warned he might ask about this. “No, I won’t give Keyain any more of my time.” She finished her drink before setting it on a servant’s tray.

They stepped out into the evening air, chillier than Elyse had expected.

Brynden pulled her closer to his heat, the scent of juniper and citrus washing over her.

He walked her across the paved patio and down a set of stairs, entering the Central Garden.

Other nobles and courtesans meandered in groups in different pockets with sitting areas with thick greenery and trees, offering privacy between the groups.

Golden light globes lit the path as they wove into the garden. “Truth be told, I’m surprised Minister Keyain traded a stunning female like you in for a clip. Though I’m not complaining,” he murmured. “I wouldn’t have you on my arm if he didn’t.”

“You shouldn’t say traded.”

“What do you mean?”

“You are the first of my father’s friends I’ve had to entertain —” she hissed the word “—since before Keyain asked to marry me. He would never admit it, but I think his intentions were good.”

Brynden’s arm pulled her closer. “Regardless of intention, he slighted you—deemed you less than the half-elf. Keyain is a fool; you’re an exquisite female.”

She slowed her steps, turning to Brynden, whose hands came to rest on her hips. “Love can make even the smartest a fool.”

He smirked with a laugh. “Perhaps reading has polluted your brain. To think you’d defend the male after what he did.”

“He’s still my friend.” Elyse searched his face, his grin playful.

The smile dropped from his eyes, though his mouth still held it. “That information should not be public,” he whispered while leaning in. His arms wrapped around Elyse as his mouth grazed her ear. “Being friends with someone like Keyain will be your demise.”

The warmth of his breath tickling her ear caused heat to creep once again over her cheeks, her stomach tightening. “And why is that?” she whispered.

“Because I don’t want you to get hurt.” He pulled back, his gaze drifting back to her lips.

Elyse grew painfully aware of his hands on her hips, the way he stared at her mouth.

Gods—she’d never done that before. Not with someone she was interested in kissing, at least. But the way he looked at her, eyes intent on their target, left her breathless.

His lips met hers, warm and soft. He inhaled and released a deep breath, his hands tightening on her hips.

Every rational thought she had disappeared with the kiss, her tongue meeting his as her stomach blossomed with heat. Gods—he was kissing her.

Brynden pulled back, his hand caressing her face. “Was that okay to do?”

“It’s a little late to ask,” she whispered, her body humming from his touch.

The one-sided smile came back as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’ve wanted to do that all night, but Gyrsh kept hovering.”

Gods—her father. Tease and tempt, but never give. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered, crossing her arms across her middle as she stepped back.

“I think what you meant is that we shouldn’t have done that so publicly,” he teased, gesturing to the nobles that were within earshot. Brynden wrapped his arm around her once more. “Let’s find somewhere a bit more private.”

“Private doesn’t make it better.”

He turned to her with a frown and stopped on the path again. “I expect nothing from you.”

“But my father doesn’t believe that.” Elyse writhed out from his arm.

“Fuck your father,” he hissed. “You’re an adult.

If you want to go somewhere private with me, you should.

Live in the moment, Elyse.” His jaw was hard-set, serious, as he searched her face.

Then his expression softened, his hand cupping her cheek once more.

“More than anything, I wish to pull you into my lap and kiss you until my jaw aches.”

He looked at her with such intensity that her breath hitched. Of all her years in Satiros, he was the first to say such of her. That she was an adult and that she could make her own choices—that she could be free.

Elyse grabbed the front of his shirt, drawing him to her. The heat in her stomach flared as he kissed her back, matching her hunger. “Okay,” she said between kisses.

“Okay?” His eyes searched her face.

“Yes, okay. I want to live,” Elyse said, alcohol emboldening her as her head felt dizzy. “I want this with you. And I want it now.”

He kissed her once more before wrapping his arm around her, searching for a private spot. Brynden gave her a concerning look as her head spun. Or maybe it was the ground.

“Oh, Elyse,” shrilled a voice from behind, earning a glare from Brynden. Grytaine approached up the path, alone, in a dress that revealed as much as Elyse’s. “I was just wondering why you haven’t introduced me to your handsome date.” She winked, earning a heavy sigh from Brynden.

“Grytaine, funny to see you here in the garden. Alone,” Elyse slurred.

“Lord Brynden Vazlyte, Emissary to Chorys Dasi,” he answered, offering a slight bow as he held on to Elyse.

“Oh, Chorys Dasi? I hear it’s beautiful this time of year. A shame that you’re in Satiros.” Grytaine stepped closer and showed no intention of leaving. “I’m Lady Grytaine Lasyda.”

Of course, Grytaine would appear out of nowhere to be a pain, just as Elyse had a chance to experience him.

“Minister Royir’s wife, a pleasure to meet you,” he said, looking over his shoulder down the path. “I was hoping to have a private conversation with Elyse. If you will excuse us.”

He pulled Elyse away, her steps clumsy as she leaned against him. Heat rolled off his comforting body, and he was so strong. And handsome.

“Please, come join my husband and me,” Grytaine pleaded. “It’s not every day we can talk to someone from Chorys Dasi. I insist.” She flashed a false smile, placing her hand on his forearm.

He glared down at the touch before looking at Elyse with a sigh. “Of course. Please, lead the way.”

Brynden’s arm steadied Elyse as they followed Grytaine.

“I’m afraid all the wine and no food might have clouded your judgment,” he murmured.

“We’ll continue that another day. I promise to call on you soon.

” He quickly pressed a kiss onto her cheek.

Grytaine raised her brows, his blatant affection odd for them not courting. Unless he meant…?

Elyse stared at Brynden as they walked. Someone wanted her to live, not just to be alive.

Brynden wanted to touch her, be with her, and she wanted it, too.

For once, she looked forward to the future.

Not only because he promised to call on her, or because of her touch-starved state, but because for the first time since her mother’s death, Elyse had hope of escaping Satiros.