Page 33 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Twenty-Four

Elyse

L ate in the afternoon, Elyse sat in her usual spot in the library, curled up with The History of Lyken Fulbryk.

History books weren’t her first choice, but she recognized his name when she selected it some time ago.

Who told her about him—was it her father?

Or maybe her mother when Elyse was young?

She couldn’t recall exactly, but she remembered one thing—Fulbryk was an adventurer.

The text was heavy on Fulbryk’s Ten Principles of Magic, but in between his teachings were anecdotes from his life—stories of his exploits that highlight the principles. Elyse couldn’t put it down.

In the beginning, the book covered the principles and basics of magic.

Aithyr was a new concept to her—the omnipresent energy that mages manipulated.

Really, all magic was new to her. She didn’t know that magic was a conversion, let alone that it needed aithyr as an energy source.

Elyse tried to feel aithyr herself, to no avail.

Regardless, she enjoyed Fulbryk’s travels as a way to explain the principles.

The giants surrounded us, snow falling thickly and obscuring our vision.

A club swung to my right, sending Abernyk flying with a sickening crunch.

The snow wasn’t affecting the giants, not like it affected us.

I suddenly realized they were ice giants, mystical beings long lost to the lands of Syllogi.

Vicious and magic-resistant, I feared for not only my life but also of those who remained in my party. Another club swung, another sickening crunch, as they bludgeoned Ythir into the ground to my left.

I raised my hands, focusing my breath and my mind, imagining the wind I needed the aithyr to be.

I grasped at the energy, letting it quicken in my conscious, whipping it into a gust. The snow parted as air rushed from my hands.

Directly in front of me, standing as tall as three full-grown elven males, was an ice giant, its club raised above my head.

As it swung, I—

A knock on the outside of the alcove pulled her from the book.

“Elyse?” called a deep voice from outside.

“Yes?” Annoyance tinged her tone. Of course, someone would bother her as she got to the good part.

“Do you have a moment?”

Her heart sunk to her stomach.“Of course, Your Grace,” she replied, knocking over her long-emptied teacup as she sat up straight. Gods, oh gods—she should have known it was King Wyltam. And she had the nerve to use that tone.

The curtain pulled back, revealing the King. “It’ll only be a moment,” he said, hands clasped behind him and his expression unreadable. “Sticking with Lyken Fulbryk still, I see. Are you enjoying it?”

Enjoyment wasn’t a strong enough emotion.

The King waited as Elyse shifted off the bench, smoothing her dress as she stood.

“I haven’t been able to put it down,” she answered excitedly, pulling the curtain across.

“The second principle is the most puzzling, yet also the most enthralling. By stating that it’s the will of the mage that manipulates aithyr for magic, and not through the will of aithyr, implies…

” her voice dropped, dread filling her stomach as her hand snapped her to mouth, turning towards the King.

Gods, for a moment, she forgot who she was talking to. How could she be so stupid?

The King had… he had a smile on his face? “And your father was adamant that you had no magical capabilities of becoming a mage. You have the right idea. Fulbryk’s second principle implies that aithyr can control the mage.”

Elyse’s tongue numbed in her mouth, unsure what to say. That was her conclusion—that the energy could control a person, but why? The question hung on the tip of her tongue as King Wyltam gestured toward the back of the library.

“Fulbryk has other books that dive deeper into each principle, though they’re drier than his histories,” he explained.

The King’s closeness and voice used to make her recoil, yet she found herself wanting to speak to him. “Are, uh… the books? Are they here? In the library?”

A slight smile curled onto his lips. “I have a surprise for you.” They stopped before a door near the back of the library, the King turning towards Elyse. “I’m not one for words. Or gestures. Your recent interest in magic brought on an idea.”

Elyse watched in silent fear as he pulled out a key and unlocked the door.

As he stepped in, light globes cast the room in light.

He glanced over his shoulder, motioning her to follow.

But she couldn’t; her feet locked in place.

A sheen of sweat covered her at the thought of being alone with King Wyltam.

Sure, they’d have fleeting conversations in the past, but only when Keyain was present.

How would she handle a conversation alone if—

“I know you’re flustered,” he said, frowning. “This is only for your benefit. Please, come in.”

Unsteady legs carried Elyse across the threshold.

Beyond the King sat low bookcases running along the back wall.

The room was a study, complete with a wooden desk and cushioned high-back chair behind it.

Bookcases of varying height lined the room, some enclosed with glass.

Against the back wall, the low bookcases held devices Elyse had never seen before on display.

“What is this?” Her voice was soft, her eyes growing wide.

“When I was younger, I often escaped to the library myself, to this room.” King Wyltam walked with his hands clasped behind his back still. “This is my private study, containing my personal collection of books on magic. You have free rein to use it.”

Her hand reached up to the leather-bound volumes to her left, seeing Magic and Mental Strength, Fulbryk’s First Principle . “Why me?”

“I’m curious to see if you’re like your mother,” King Wyltam said, his eyes following her hand.

“Though I must ask that no one else enter this room. Many of the materials are sensitive information and even contain my notes on magic.” A smile hinted at his lips.

“Though I get the inkling that you will enjoy the seclusion of this room.”

Elyse walked before the bookcase, reading the titles. “What does my mother have to do with this?”

“She was the most gifted mage of her time.”

Elyse’s heart stilled, her fingers brushing against one of the glass objects as her heart sunk. “No, she wasn’t. My father said—”

“Don’t believe your father.” The anger in his voice caused her to turn. “Your mother fostered my interest in magic,” King Wyltam said, his gaze locked on to Elyse. “The least I can do for Anthylia is offer the same encouragement that she gave me. Do you remember Fulbryk’s sixth principle?”

“ A weak mind cannot yield aithyr therefore, mental strengthening must be routine for mages ,” she recited, remembering back to the chapter of Fulbryk having his friends beat him while he maintained concentration.

“Very good, Elyse. A weak mind cannot yield aithyr, and you, unfortunately, have the nerves of a skittish goat. That is the reason your father said you do not possess your mother’s gift.” King Wyltam’s expression softened. “However, I think it’s possible.”

Elyse furrowed her brows. “You do?” Soft. Weak. Her father’s words spun in her mind as memories of her mother’s last days pulled the breath from her chest.

“Your mother was an exceptional mage. However, aithyr won against her mind. Your father believes the same will happen to you if you practice magic. I offer you this, Elyse,” he said, motioning to the room.

“Study here in my office and learn to strengthen your mind. If you do those things, I will train you to become a mage.”

Her chest caved. “My father would never allow it, and I’m to be married.”

“Are you not an adult? Can you not make your own decisions?” he asked, tilting his head. “And anyone should be lucky to have a mage as their wife.”

The King considered her an adult? She blinked, her body numbing with surprise. “But what if I can’t do it? What if I can’t control my emotions, my mind?” Her throat threatened to close as she spoke. “What if I’m too much like my mother?”

He studied Elyse for a moment. “Life is a series of choices, Elyse. You can choose to accept things as they currently are, or you can change your life. That choice is up to you. If you cannot succeed, then at least you tried. What’s the worst that could happen if you try and fail?”

The logic made sense, but the King didn’t know her father. Obedience wasn’t natural to Elyse; her father had forged it over a lifetime. If she were to become a mage, it would push him too far. He’d drag her back into submission, regardless if she was an adult.

Gods, but the way King Wyltam looked at her, his expression soft, understanding. Becoming a mage would give her what she wanted—a way out. Freedom.

She took a steadying breath to calm her racing heart and met the King’s gaze. “I will try my best.”

A pounding at her door woke Elyse from sleep the following morning as her father barged into her room. “Why are you not awake yet? Brynden will be here soon!” her father yelled, throwing back the curtains of her bed.

Shit, Brynden. He was coming to see her, and Elyse looked like—well, she looked like she was up all night, which she was.

Elyse groaned, her head heavy with exhaustion. After finishing The History of Lyken Fulbryk, she jumped into his book on the first principle of magic. Though the reading was dry, his words enthralled Elyse.

Controlling aithyr depends on a mage’s ability to focus; their mental strength is what gains control, forming the aithyr into what they wish it to be.

Magic could shape aithyr into endless things if only she could calm her mind.

Her father snapped his fingers. “Elyse, are you listening to me? Brynden will be here any moment to see you. Get up. You look like a disgrace,” he spat, throwing back her covers. “You’re lucky someone like him even has an interest in you.”