Page 2 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Two

Marietta, Two Years Later

M arietta groaned as she stood from the pastry case with her back tight and feet aching.

Sweat coated her light brown skin, causing her stray hairs to stick.

Despite the long day, she couldn’t help but smile—the new pastry was a best seller again.

Today made it the third day in a row that it sold out.

She threw open the door to the kitchen, finding one of her workers mopping the floor. “You’re still here, Kith? I told you I could take care of the rest.”

The young half-elven girl shook her head. “There’s still work to do—”

“And I can get it done. Now, go. It’s way past when you should have left.

” Marietta shooed Kith toward the back door, where she discarded her apron and hung it up with the rest. It was one thing for Marietta to exhaust herself with her own business; never would she allow her employees to do so.

They were here to train under her with the goal of one day owning bakeries of their own.

How would they become competent bakers if they were exhausted every day?

Crazy to think two years ago, she had opened the bakery.

In that short time, it had already become a staple in Olkia.

Each morning, they had a line of customers waiting for them to raise the shutters and unlock the door.

Many come to place future orders, meaning Marietta was often booked a month out.

Her community supported her and Rise Above, and she was eternally grateful.

Marietta took the mop and finished the last section of the bakery.

Her thoughts strayed to the pastries they had prepped for tomorrow, knowing that the morning wasn’t far off, though she wouldn’t have traded this life for anything.

The days were long and hard, but they were hers.

It was always her choice on business decisions.

Marietta was right where she felt comfortable—in control.

That control extended to who she trained as well.

After all, she had a legacy to pass on—the methodology of baking with empathy and love.

To some, a loaf of bread was simply bread.

To others, it was a meager meal or a chance to share a table with loved ones.

During her training, Marietta had learned that even the most mundane baked good could brighten someone’s day.

She took that to heart and was sure to donate what extras she had to those who needed it.

Not only was that what she taught her apprentices, but they also came from walks of life that understood that a loaf of bread could mean everything to those who had little.

A booming laugh broke up her train of thoughts from the back door. Was it already that late? She wasn’t expecting Tilan and Pelok for another hour.

“If you think that’s bad,” Tilan said, pushing open the door with his head turned back towards their friend behind him, “you should hear what Dom had to say.” Tilan’s voice rasped from another day at his smithy.

Per usual, his hair frayed from his knot.

His clothes were ashen and dirty, and his fingertips stained black.

Behind him laughed Pelok, Tilan’s oldest friend. Tall and broad with dark olive skin and dark hair, he towered over Tilan.

“Though I’m sure what Dom said was nothing short of hilarious,” Marietta said, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached her husband, “I would like to know why you brought this freeloader over.” Her chin jutted towards Pelok, who rolled his eyes in merriment.

“Says the woman with the clogged drain.” Pelok shook his head, a smile curling to his lip.

“I know I said I would do it,” Tilan interrupted, pausing to kiss Marietta, “but Pelok offered to take a look. He’s had similar issues at The Dog in the past.” The Dog was short for The Lonely Dog, the tavern Pelok owned and operated.

The same tavern that sent her to Tilan all those blissful years ago.

Pelok had been Marietta’s client when he sent her to Tilan’s smithy, explaining his lack of monetary organizational skills and failing to mention Tilan’s gift.

What he lacked in organization, he made up with talent.

Marietta accused Pelok of setting them up, but they always denied it.

From the moment they met, there had been something special about Tilan, as if someone knew they’d make perfect partners for one another.

Marietta gave a half-hearted glare at Pelok, her face cracking with a smile. “At least you’ll be working for free pastries.”

“They aren’t free if he’s working for them,” Tilan said, sliding his arm around her. His scent of soot, sweat, and tobacco engulfed her.

“Gods, you reek,” she said, pushing him away. He laughed and pulled her closer. “You two came to be a pain while I finished up.”

“And to get free pastries.” Pelok already crouched down to the pipe that drained her sink.

“Better not half-ass it and call it fixed,” she said without the bite of an insult.

“If I remember correctly, you broke about half my glassware by dancing on the bar—”

“I told you he still brings it up!” Marietta swatted at Tilan’s chest as he laughed. “It’s been five years; when will you let it go?”

“Never,” Pelok said, glancing back over his shoulder with a smirk.

“You really didn’t have any reason to be on the bar.” Tilan loosened his grip on her and rested his hands on her hips.

“There’s no better place to dance than on a bar, and I still stand by that,” Marietta said, shaking her head.

These two always ganged up on her, and though it grew irritating, she wouldn’t have it any other way.

Staring up into Tilan’s face, she could only think of how lucky she was to find someone like him.

Few partners would be okay with their lifestyle of long hours apart, both focused on their businesses, yet every night, they got to share a bed. They got to be together.

Life with Tilan was easy—freeing. He understood Marietta’s need to be busy or why she opened another business, though Tilan made enough to support them.

It made for long days spent away from one another.

For two married people, they mastered the art of independence in a relationship, something she had needed as much as she needed air to breathe.

Marietta always imagined being who and what she wished.

Nothing could hold her back or suppress her curiosity for life and people.

She needed to do things her way, and Tilan gave her that freedom.

She could decide she no longer wanted the bakery, and he would understand her change of heart.

It was why they never had kids. Marietta knew they’d love any child they’d have, regardless of if they were born with more human or half-elven traits.

In Enomenos, it didn’t matter what you were. All were equal.

Still young for a half-elf, Marietta was in her late thirties, which meant she’d have time to change her decision.

As a human, Tilan didn’t have such a luxury as age worked against him.

She tried not to imagine the day where she’d light her husband’s funeral pyre.

His human lifespan was less than half of a half-elf’s.

Marietta’s breath hitched at the thought, and she pushed it from her mind.

Tilan held her close and brought her in for a slow, deliberate kiss.

His lips were soft against hers, and her hands wove into his hair.

Marietta once thought she had been in love before she met Tilan, yet every day, her husband proved how wrong she had been.

Her heart still skipped a beat when he looked at her—when he murmured he loved her in the shell of her ear.

She had never been so fond of someone. Artistic and laid-back, Tilan kept up with Marietta’s creativity, though he possessed a much calmer demeanor.

He was a rock to Marietta’s emotional waves; no matter how much her excitable manner crashed against him, Tilan stayed resilient.

“Can’t you two wait for me to leave?” Pelok cursed under his breath. “I came over to help you with a task, and now I have to watch you two go at it.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t bother you as much if you found a partner,” Marietta said as she pulled back from Tilan. “I told you my friend—”

“Not interested.” Pelok gave her a deadpan stare. “And you’re welcome. The drain’s all fixed.”

“Fixed it faster than I would have,” Tilan said as he leaned against the counter.

“That’s because you lack practical everyday skills. You can build machines and make elaborate weapons but can’t clear a gods damned drain.” Pelok stood and brushed his hands on his pants. “If it weren’t for me, your whole damned building would fall to pieces.”

Tilan rolled his eyes. “An exaggeration. If you have such a problem with helping, then perhaps you should quit offering.”

“Then how else would I get Marietta’s pastries?” Pelok turned to her with a greedy look.

“You could buy them like everyone else, you gods damned freeloader,” she grumbled with a smile.

Truly, it didn’t bother Marietta to give him pastries every once in a while.

Often she would let him be the taste tester for her experimental recipes.

After filling up a small box of baked goods, she handed it to Pelok and sent him on his way.

Marietta planted her fists on her hips and stared at the kitchen. “Now that Pelok unclogged the drain, I can finish the last of the dishes.”

“What’s left?” Tilan picked up the bucket of dirty mop water and walked to the back door.

“Nothing for you to do.”

Tilan paused in the doorway and turned to face her. “I had hoped to share a shower with my wife this evening, and if she’s too busy working, then it looks like I won’t get that chance.”

Marietta raised an eyebrow and flashed him a smirk. “Mr. Reid, what makes you assume I’d be willing to share a shower with a man like you?”