Page 51 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Chapter Thirty-Two

Elyse

W armth filled Elyse’s chest as she combed through King Wyltam’s bookshelves and collected her notes on Fulbryk’s principles of magic. Brynden only mentioned one night at their townhouse, but she had the inkling that it would be longer.

After pacing in the suite for an hour, Elyse had decided she would need her notes and books. Unsure of when the Chorys Dasians would arrive, she has hastily ventured to the library.

The reality of the situation hadn’t hit her yet, that she was to marry Brynden. That he would take her away from that gods forsaken palace. The hope of a better future made everything look brighter, her steps lighter.

The choice was a touch impulsive, Elyse had to admit. She didn’t know him well, knew nothing of Chorys Dasi. But it would all work out, because anything was better than her current life.

A knock sounded, bringing Elyse out of her thoughts. Curious, she cracked the door. “Brynden? How did you find me here?” With furrowed brows, she attempted to block the doorway.

Still donning the ridiculous ruffled shirt, he gave her a wide smile, picking her up with a hug.

“There’s my future wife. I arrived at your suite only to realize you weren’t there.

Where else would my goddess be if not in the library?

The guards pointed me in the right direction.

Now I am here.” A soft kiss met her lips as he set her back down.

“Gods, you reek of alcohol. Are… are you drunk?”

Brynden shrugged with a smile. “We had a drink celebrating our betrothal. Or maybe more than a few drinks, but I’m fine.” He kissed her on her forehead.

Based on smell alone, it was many drinks. She sighed with a shake of her head. “I’ll be ready to leave in a moment. Wait here while I collect a few things.” She hurried back into the room.

In the desk drawer, Elyse searched for her notes on The History of Lyken Fulbyrk. The information in her next book dove deeper into the third principle and wanted to refer to it as she read.

Brynden staggered through the doorway. “What is this?”

“Not mine, and you’re not allowed in here.” Elyse walked to him, pushing him out with a gentle effort. “Please, just wait out here.”

His strong arms wrapped around her, his gaze missing nothing. “But I wish to see where my dear goddess spends her days. Let me indulge in my curiosity.”

“It’s not my rule, Brynden,” she said, trying to push him out. Somehow they ended up further in the room, his eyes scanning the books. “I will get in trouble if we don’t leave.”

“By who?”

“By… the person whose room this is.” She attempted to push him towards the door and horribly lost.

“Interesting,” he said, grabbing an unfamiliar object on the bookshelf. Geometric glass with a series of symbols on its face.

“Please put that back. You need to leave the room.”

Brynden placed the object in her hand, causing a series of symbols to glow. “Fascinating,” he said as he craned his neck to watch. “I wouldn’t have thought that.” He spoke under his breath, a smile spreading wider on his face.

“You need to leave, Brynden,” Elyse said, pulling her hand back.

She glanced at the door, nervous that someone would catch him in here.

The King had been clear—no one else was allowed.

Now Brynden ignored her as she tried to usher him out.

Her stomach dropped, feeling helpless against the situation.

With a sly grin, he grabbed the object from her hand and dropped it, the glass shattering at her feet. “Let’s keep that a secret.”

“Brynden!” Elyse took a step back, her mind racing at his behavior. “What are you doing? Why aren’t you listening—” Shards littered where she walked, causing her to lose balance. Elyse slipped backward, glass tearing into the skin of her forearms as she landed on her back.

“Oh, fuck. Elyse, are you alright?” Brynden said, kneeling to offer his hand.

“Get away from me!” She scurried back, away from his outstretched hand. “If this is how you act when you drink, then I need to reconsider my future.”

“Goddess, you're bleeding. Let me help you.”

At the raise of his hand, Elyse flinched. The reaction was involuntary, one her body knew to do, and it caused a flash of grief in Brynden’s expression.

The stark reality hit her. Elyse didn’t know him, didn’t know how he acted when drunk or how often he drank. Foolish. She would jump from one bad situation to another. She shook her head as tears began to fall. “You should leave.”

“Sylas is waiting for us,” Brynden said, holding out his hand.

She stared at it, shaking her head. “He’s waiting for you.”

“No, don’t act like that.” He laughed, the sound weak as his expression changed from worry to fear. “I promise I didn’t mean anything by it, goddess.”

Elyse swallowed hard, mustering up a glare as she stared at his face. “You need to leave. Now.”

“That would be a wise decision.” A deep voice came from the doorway. King Wyltam walked slowly into the room, hands clasped behind his back. “Elyse, perhaps I wasn’t clear.”

Her limbs numbed at his appearance, the sudden fear of losing magic, the last thing that gave her hope. “He wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to get him to leave.”

King Wyltam’s stare landed on her arms, to where blood seeped from the glass digging into her flesh.

“It’s alright. We were about to leave.” Brynden tossed a glance over his shoulder as he reached for Elyse. She pulled her arm out of his grasp.

In a few quick strides, King Wyltam loomed over Brynden’s shoulder. He grabbed him, jerking him back with a force she hadn’t anticipated. “Who the fuck are you?”

Brynden scrambled from the grip, fighting to push back but fell short as they reached the door. King Wyltam raised his hand and a blast of wind struck Brynden, sending him flying into the library beyond the doorway.

“King Wyltam!” Elyse pushed herself up, breath caught in her chest. Brynden groaned as he picked himself up. A menacing glare held his expression.

“Who is he, Elyse?” the King asked. “What is he doing here?”

“Brynden Vazlyte of Chorys Dasi, my betrothed,” she said, her voice small as she approached on unsteady legs. “Or was my betrothed.” Brynden’s face fell at her words.

“And Brynden, a foreigner, is in my personal office because you invited him?” the King continued.

Elyse took a steadying breath as her heart raced. “Of course not. I was collecting my things when he came in.”

“I came to escort Elyse,” Brynden said, eyes locked on her.

“Escort her?” King Wyltam inspected Brynden from head to toe, his eyes narrowing. “Explain to me, Brynden from Chorys Dasi, why I find you in my personal study with my noblewoman wounded?”

“You’re studying magic for King Wyltam?” Brynden shook his head. “Elyse, we should go—”

The King held out his arm in front of Elyse, as if she would walk to him. No, the male that she thought she’d marry was someone different.

“You come to my court, break into my office, and damaged not only my property, but also hurt Elyse.” The King paused, glancing at her. “She claims you were betrothed, which is news to me.”

“That’s because Gyrsh and I just settled it.”

Gods, how much did he drink? Brynden swayed where he stood.

“Good, I just sent a message to Gyrsh. He’ll be here in a moment, and so will Keyain. They’ll love to hear your reasons.” The King placed his hands in his pocket, his expression unreadable even as he threatened Brynden.

Panicked, a chill washed over her body. Not her father, not when she was so close to being free of him. “King Wyltam, please,” Elyse pleaded. “It was an accident with an object on the shelf. I dropped it, then slipped in the glass.”

“Elyse?” Keyain’s voice called out, his heavy footfalls sounding. “You’re bleeding. What happened?” In a crumpled tunic covered by a jacket, Keyain appeared and halted as Brynden came into view, his gaze turning feral. “You. What did you do?”

“Keyain, it was my fault please—”

“Of course it was your fault, you stupid girl.” Her father arrived behind Keyain, the fury on his face joined with a new red welt. “Betrothed less than a couple of hours and already ruined it?”

“You don’t talk to her.” Brynden took a staggering step towards her father, lips pulled back and his finger pointed. “You’re lucky Sylas pulled me off you or else I would have—”

“Are you saying you attacked another minister?” Keyain said, reaching for the sword at his waist.

Elyse stepped forward, the King’s hand reaching out to keep her back. “Keyain, please—”

“Gyrsh deserved it. Unless you think it’s okay for him to be hitting her . ” Brynden steadied himself, fury clear on his face.

Keyain turned, his eyes growing wide. “He’s doing it again?”

“You knew? You fucking knew and left Elyse with him?” Brynden suddenly became calm, turning to her. “Let’s go. Someone at the townhouse can heal you.”

“No,” the King, Keyain, and her father all said at once.

“She’s my betrothed,” Brynden argued. “I’m not leaving this fucking palace without her.”

“If you keep this up, you won’t be leaving at all.” Keyain’s hand fell to the hilt of his sword. “And Elyse sure as fuck isn’t going anywhere with you.”

Elyse watched in silent horror as the males debated what they wanted of her—debated her future—while refusing to listen to her. Waves of fury rose from her gut to her head, causing a roaring in her ears. No more. She wouldn’t sit by any longer.

“Stop it!” she screamed, her breathing ragged. “I’ve had enough of you all deciding for me what I can and can’t do! Stop making my decisions and stop talking like I’m not here. I don’t belong to any of you.” She glared first at Keyain, to Brynden, then at her father. “I’m done.”

Elyse sidestepped around King Wyltam’s still out-stretched hand, offering a sympathetic glance at Brynden. “I don’t want to marry you, not after this.” She stormed towards the library’s exit.

“Elyse, please,” Brynden called, his voice cracking.

“Don’t move,” Keyain growled. There was scuffling and a loud thud, Elyse not bothering to turn back.