Page 4 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Three

Marietta, Two Years Later

Marietta

M arietta noticed the swaying first, her body lolling from one side to another with random bumps jostling her.

The clanking of metal sounded nearby with ambient chatter and the occasional laugh.

When she opened her eyes, light filtering through a small carriage window blinded her, and pain shot through her head.

Her skin was clammy and her chest tightened as she gasped for breath.

With a sluggish mind, Marietta leaned over, glimpsing outside to see rolling hills with brown grass sprouting green. Bodies marched in verdant fabric and metal armor in the early morning sun, traveling in the opposite direction of the carriage. What were they doing? Green, what city wore green?

Gods, she couldn’t remember—not with the pain slicing through her temples and burning at her side, pulling her focus from the view.

A cloying floral scent perfumed the carriage, not aiding in her pain.

Marietta shifted on the padded seat, binds tying her hands behind her back. Why would her hands be bound?

Marietta stared at the floor, bobbing along with the carriage’s movement as she pieced together the world around her.

Their bedroom was dark besides the light from the window.

There was the glint of a knife, the fear in Tilan’s face, and then nothing.

Panic gripped her already dry throat as tears blotted her vision.

Someone had held Marietta back, prevented her from getting to Tilan, and now she was in their custody, traveling to gods knew where.

She should run, put up a fight to be free, but her limbs were made of lead, her chest hollow.

A different pain bloomed in her heart, consuming her thoughts, her body, and her soul.

Tilan was gone. Dead. She didn’t know how long it had been since she woke next to Tilan, and she couldn’t bring herself to care.

It was as if a part of her was missing. Too painful to acknowledge.

Time slipped by, the sun rising and falling, causing light to dance through the curtain of the carriage window.

At some point, the clanking of armor gave way to the soft whistle of wind over the barren hills.

But none of it mattered. Not while Marietta imagined the silvered streak of a dagger, Tilan’s face, and the slash that ended him.

The carriage door swung open when the sun was just above the horizon, the long shafts of golden light spilling onto grassy hills beyond the bald elven man who stuck in his head. He swore as he took in Marietta. “Get the medic. She’s awake.”

“How long?” asked a voice from outside.

“How would I know?” The bald man stepped back.

“Well, I thought the dose would last until we stopped.” A moment later, a burly elven woman stepped into the carriage.

Marietta didn’t spare her a glance and didn’t respond when she took her chin and tilted back her head.

Fight. Push back. Get to freedom. But she couldn’t.

Grief suffocated her very breath from the missing part of herself.

Instead, she tasted the sweet liquid spill across her tongue and down her throat.

The edges of her vision grew black and fuzzy until nothing took over once more with a blissful release.

Bits of awareness came, fleeting and few, shifting like sand in the wind.

For a moment, there’d be brief recognition of the world.

The next, life was amorphous. Bright, glaring sun.

Its warmth on her skin. Her body floating over veined floors.

Someone’s chilled touch lifting her limbs.

Her body naked. The throbbing ache of her head, the searing pain of her side.

Rough, calloused hands holding her face.

The grogginess lifted before Marietta opened her eyes, her body aching and her head throbbing.

Pain sliced deep into her side as she tried to roll over, eliciting a gasp.

Her vision was blurry and slow to come, the room around her white and small.

At her waist was a thick bandage, the material stiff as her hands ran across it.

Underneath her was a narrow bed, and across the room sat a cushioned chair.

With slow, careful movements, Marietta pushed herself up, her head spinning as she hung her legs over the bed’s side. The drop to the ground wasn’t far, but the pressure on her legs proved too much. Marietta’s legs collapsed with her weight.

The cold marble tile leaked through her thin shift dress. The pain in her side burned. Just get to the door—get to freedom.

Marietta dragged herself towards the only exit, hissing at the pain, her head spinning with it. Breaths became forced, and she paused to rest her forehead against the stone. Tilan’s frightened stare flashed in her mind, robbing her of effort. Gone. He was gone.

The tap of feet on tile came from the hall, ending with the creaking of the door as it swung open.

“Goodness, my lady!” a feminine voice called.

A moment later, the nurse lifted Marietta back onto the bed.

The large elven woman tucked the sheets around her, smoothing back her hair.

“Please don’t get up; your muscles are too weak, my lady. ”

“Where am I?” Marietta’s eyes stared into the hallway beyond.

“You’re safe now, my lady. Please, rest. I’ll let your husband know you’ve awoken.” She turned to leave the room.

“Wait,” Marietta said, her voice only a quiet rasp, “my husband?”

Either the nurse didn’t hear Marietta, or she ignored her question.

The glare of a dagger. The look of fear in Tilan’s eyes. The memory flashed before her, as clear as the night it happened. She said husband. Did Tilan survive?

Were they at an infirmary in Olkia? Why wasn’t Tilan in the carriage with her? She was alone from what she remembered. Or was she? His throat would need intensive healing—is that where he was?

But who would hurt them? They were known and liked in Olkia, Marietta more so throughout Enomenos. Tilan would know. He always had an answer to her questions.

The nurse returned with food and water. Marietta’s stomach rumbled, unable to recall feeling such hunger as she shoveled food in her mouth. The quality surprised her for an infirmary. “Where are we?” Marietta asked between mouthfuls as the nurse fussed with her bedding.

“Satiros, my lady.”

Marietta’s stomach churned as she set down her fork. “Satiros?” Why would she and Tilan be in Syllogi, the elven-ruled lands west of Enomenos?

The nurse’s mouth moved, but her voice became garbled. Marietta blinked as her body grew heavy. “What?” Marietta asked. She forced her eyes open, the weight of her lids too much to handle as she sunk back into her pillows.

In the doorway, a figure appeared, a man’s voice speaking. Calloused hands took her own—Tilan. It was Tilan. Marietta tried to open her eyes, to fight off the sleepiness, but darkness overcame her once more.

The sleep was dreamless; the occasional voice broke through her sedation, but the words were meaningless. More than anything, Marietta felt nothing—not the time slipping by, not the pain in her body, in her heart. There was nothing. The pleasant darkness consumed her.

Marietta’s eyes opened as someone left her room, glimpsing red hair tucked behind elongated elven ears. She called out, but her throat was too dry to make a sound.

Attempting to lift her head, she fell back to the pillows, the weight too much for her neck. She tried to move her arms, but they too lacked the energy to move. The bandage remained around her middle, but the pain was bearable.

Tilan was coming. Marietta needed to know he was alive despite what she saw that night.

Rousing her strength, Marietta failed to sit up. She tried again and again, wanting to get up, needing to move. Her limbs were like the boughs of a sapling—weak, unable to support any weight.

The nurse bustled through the door. “Oh good dear, you’ve woken again.

I’m sorry you missed your husband. He’s away for the day, but he’ll be back tomorrow.

I’ll make sure not to overdo your dosage this time,” she said in an assertive tone.

“The traveling medic said that your drugs burned through your system on your ride to Satiros, but you would’ve had more on your bones then. ” She gestured to Marietta.

She glanced down at her unrecognizable body—frail, bonier. Her curves fell flat beneath the fabric of her shift. With wide eyes, Marietta stared at the nurse. “How long have I been here?” she whispered.

The nurse put her hands on her hips. “Oh, I don’t know. About three weeks since they brought you to me.”

“Three weeks?”

“The healing wracked your body. Your injuries were severe enough that we had to ask the temple for additional help. Can you believe we had a temple attendant here to help heal you? You took quite the fall down the stairs. The soldiers said that they’ve never seen someone fight like that with the inhalant in your system.

They said you were quite the beast, expected for a half-elf. ” She laughed and moved to the doorway.

“Wait, what happened?” Marietta’s chest tightened as she tried to recall the events that led her to that infirmary bed.

“Don’t worry, my lady. Your husband will stop by tomorrow. He wants to be the one to tell you everything.” She winked as she closed the door behind her.

The day dragged into evening and Marietta was alone with her thoughts. Sleep was a reprieve from the back and forth pull in her mind—Tilan. Was he alive? Injured as he was, would he be able to speak just three weeks later? But the nurse said her husband. Tilan had to be coming.

The following morning, Marietta woke to the nurse. “My lady, your husband is on his way down.” She left without another word.

Relief flooded her with a heavy sigh. Marietta wanted to hold Tilan and to know what happened. Who was it that attacked him? Why were they in Satiros instead of Olkia?

Heavy footfalls sounded from the hall, pausing at her door. She watched the handle turn, her face smiling in anticipation for Tilan. The door crept open, revealing who stood beyond.

Her face fell, a sudden coldness hitting the core of her body as she realized what had happened. In the doorway was not her husband but Keyain Vallynte.