Page 30 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Twenty-One

Elyse

D eep throbbing pain exuded from the left side of Elyse’s head, her vision dizzy, and her stomach roiling. It had been so long since her last head pain that she almost forgot how the symptoms felt.

By some good fortune, it wasn’t the worst head pain she had felt.

Elyse could sit in bed with the curtains drawn over the windows, blocking most of the light.

A book lay unread in her lap, acting as a cover for when her father walked in.

He would check on Elyse at some point, probably suspecting that her head hurt, but she didn’t want to take any drugs.

The effects differed from alcohol—memory loss, hallucinations, and loss of self-awareness and self-control.

The last two scared her the most. With alcohol, she could control how much she drank.

Unless she was in a social setting, then it became a necessity. The ball was a testament to that. Without the drinks, she wouldn’t have been able to talk to Brynden. To kiss him.

Even days later, Elyse thought about the kiss and her foolish decision to go somewhere more private. It was reckless, and if her father found out, he’d be furious. Tease and tempt, but never give .

Bryden’s words rung in her mind—fuck her father.

The Chorys Dasian was something else. Chaotic, restless energy lurked under his skin, always looking for a quip to say something to tease or a moment of fun; that thrilled her more than it should.

What were the chances Brynden would call on her again, let alone be willing to court her?

At the end of the evening, he had kissed Elyse in front of Grytaine and Royir, which he shouldn’t have done unless he was interested.

Maybe courting customs in Chorys Dasi were different.

Maybe kissing was normal and not just shared between courting couples. Oh, gods, she hadn’t considered that.

That would make more sense. After one evening, Brynden wouldn’t be interested in binding his life to her. And she almost went somewhere private with him, in front of Grytaine, of all people .

Elyse raised a pillow, mock yelling into it. So stupid—gods, Grytaine would say something to her father. Dread pooled in her stomach, even as her head pain continued to throb.

There was a sharp knock at the door, not waiting for an answer before entering. Her father stood in the doorway, lips frowning and eyes displeased. “Elyse, my office. Now.”

She gathered her strength, steadying herself as lights flashed in front of her eyes and pain pulsed on the left side of her head. Did he know? He must know. His face said as much.

The light of the common area blinded her as she crossed it. With a deep breath, she entered her father’s office, trying her best to keep the pain from showing on her face.

He waited behind his desk, head resting on his knitted fingers, as Elyse took a seat. “Well, I found out some fascinating information,” he said, eyes narrowed on Elyse.

“And what would that be, father?” she asked, ignoring the sudden dizziness that hit her.

“You tell me.” He leaned back in his chair.

That was his trick: to get Elyse to admit something she did was wrong. Years ago, she learned that saying nothing was the best answer.

He gave a heavy sigh. “Honestly, Elyse. Grytaine told me about the garden.”

But which part? The first kiss on the path? The kiss good night? Or worse? Silence filled the room as Elyse refused to answer.

“Elyse,” her father warned, “fine, I’ll be the one to say it. You were heading to a secluded spot alone with Brynden, weren’t you?”

She closed her eyes, wishing herself invisible. Of course, Grytaine would tell him about it after she stopped it from happening.

“Well? Anything to say for yourself, or are you going to sit there and act like an idiot?” His temper flared, his voice rising.

Elyse raised her eyes, the light from the windows blinding. “I was being obedient,” she lied, telling her father what he wanted to hear. Or so she thought.

“Oh, being obedient? You’re obedient to me, Elyse, not to someone you’re entertaining,” he spat. “How many other of my friends have you been alone with? Was this the first time? Because we have talked about this, how far to go.”

She shrunk back into the chair at her father’s tone, her breathing ragged as she cast her eyes to the floor. “No one, I swear,” she lied.

“Look at me when you speak, damn it,” he growled. “To think, I did all of this for Brynden to think you’re a whore.”

The insult landed, Elyse flinching at his words. Was that what she was? The kiss on the path wouldn’t leave her head. Neither would what she imagined would have happened if Brynden had her alone, kissing her until his jaw ached. Gods—she would have gone further if they had the chance.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her eyes finding his face.

The anger rolled through him, his lips thinned and his nostrils flared. “How dare you try to sabotage my work? I had to find out from Royir’s gossiping wife, so I’m sure the entire court knows what you are.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. “I’m sorry, father,” she whispered.

“Is that all you have to say? Sorry?”

Stress caused her vision to turn white, the room spinning under her feet. “I… I don’t know,” she stammered.

He sighed again, his tone softening. “The head pains are back, and you didn’t tell me. Elyse, we’ve been through this. You need to take the drugs.”

She tried shaking her head, unsure if she did or not. “I’m okay, really.”

The drawer slid open, and she heard the clinking of glass. From it, her father pulled out the milky blue liquid she despised. Her father walked around his desk, forcing it into Elyse’s hand. “Take it. Now.”

With a trembling grip, she took the vial, letting the tears fall. The thick substance dripped down, churning her stomach.

“You need to listen to me, especially when an unprecedented opportunity has knocked at your door,” he said, leaning against his desk.

“What opportunity?”

“It appears that Lord Brynden likes whores,” he drawled. “He asked to court you, and I said yes.”