Page 52 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

The King’s voice carried through the library, loud enough for her to hear. “Gyrsh, we get to have a nice long chat, it seems.” Though she had never seen the King show much of any emotion, his words dripped like venom.

The stinging in her arms subsided from her attention as she passed rows of shelves, mind spinning. Sure, Brynden was drunk, but why didn’t he listen? When she pushed him back, why did he fight?

She was incredibly, helplessly stupid. An hour ago, she couldn’t contain her happiness. A future with a handsome male sweeping her off her feet. A new city of freedom, a life worth living. How foolish was she to think it would happen?

Silent tears streaked her face. The life she lived that day—sitting around with friends, magic, singing, being wanted —it was all a lie, things she could never have. But since she tasted the freedom of that life, her future stuck within Satiros became more damning.

She would die here.

She would die.

Anxious to be far away from the library, Elyse hurried through the exit with her head down, bumping into someone.

“Oof, sorry—Elyse?” Sylas stopped, gazing into the library and then to her arms, his face paling. “What did he do now?”

“Nothing.” Elyse walked past him, but his hand caught her shoulder.

“Elyse, please. You’re bleeding. What in the hells happened?”

She swallowed hard. “Brynden is a drunken ass. Clearly I made a mistake by accepting his offer to marry me.”

His jaw tightened as he sighed. “Where is he now?”

“In there with my father, Keyain, and King Wyltam.”

Sylas swore, his hand pushing back the curls that hung in his eyes. “You need to see someone for your wounds.”

“You need to go grab your friend before Keyain draws his sword.”

“Are you okay to walk by yourself? Oryck can grab Az, and I can take you to get help.” Sylas’s brows were drawn together, his voice gentler than she expected from a male who spent the day scowling and rolling his eyes.

“The infirmary isn’t far. I’ll be fine by myself,” she said, giving him a sad smile. “Just get him out of here before he does anything else.”

Sylas nodded, hesitating before entering the library. The indistinguishable yelling from the males echoed down the hallway as Elyse took off.

Even with healing, Elyse’s arms ached. The stinging from the cuts irritated her, but she refused to take medicine for the pain, even when the nurse dug through the wounds looking for shards.

Across from her was another pain. Keyain ran through the night’s events with her. Again. For the fifth time. Elyse stifled a yawn behind her hand as Keyain recited his questions. “And at no point, you felt threatened by Brynden?”

“No.”

“Even as he resisted you after you told him to leave? When you fell?”

“No, Keyain.”

“Okay. And earlier in the day, when he saw your bruise, he wasn’t forcing himself on you?”

“For the last time, no.”

“Look, Elyse, I understand that you’re upset, but we need to talk,” he said, setting his notebook and charcoal into his lap. “How many times has Gyrsh done this since the end of our betrothal?”

“Once.” Elyse left out the times he had threatened to inflict harm.

“Is that why you want to marry Brynden?” The question was a trap, one set in the middle of questions she was routinely answering at that point.

“No, but it helped make the decision easier.” That part was true enough.

“Okay, I’m going to lay out the situation from how I see it. Your father, who is abusing you again, introduced you to Brynden, a foreign lord only he knows. You meet him three times, then decide to marry him, a stranger, and move to a city-state you don’t know. Then—”

“If you’re going to patronize me, then you can just leave.”

Keyain furrowed his brows, frowning. “Just listen, please. Brynden has fought me, hit your father, and nearly launched himself at King Wyltam in the library. We know nothing of this male, save for what your father tells us, which at this point means nothing.”

“Just say what you mean.”

Keyain brushed a hand through his hair, mussing it, giving Elyse a sobering look. “King Wyltam and I talked. Brynden is banned from the palace and your betrothal is over.”

“Funny,” she drawled, picking at her nails. “I thought I ended the betrothal, but sure. Let’s give you credit.” Her heart squeezed at the thought. The decision to walk away from her only chance to be free of Satiros was painful, and she didn’t even get the credit for deciding it.

Keyain nodded his head. “Something is off about him, Elyse. I don’t know what you saw in him but he’s completely unhinged.”

Elyse laughed dryly, shaking her head. “I would do almost anything to leave here, Keyain.” Her voice cracked with emotion.

“What do you mean?” Keyain asked, his tone softening.

“This palace, this court—it’s a prison. If I stay here, I won’t make it.” Elyse’s heart ached as she spoke the truth. “Brynden was my chance to escape, to be free.”

“You want to leave Satiros? And not just your father?”

She took a steadying breath as tears fell. “How is that news to you? How could you, the person who knows me better than anyone else, my only friend, not understand how much I hate it here?”

Keyain stared at her in silence, contemplating his words. “Perhaps you would hate it less if you made friends with the other—”

“Fuck you,” Elyse snapped, her glare cutting to Keyain. “Did you forget why I don’t talk to them? How you wanted to investigate what happened that night? I will never forgive her.” She swallowed hard. “Now that you have Marietta, I’m truly alone again.”

“Is that what this is all about? Me ending our betrothal?”

“Is that a joke? Our betrothal was never real, not when you were already married to Marietta. And I never wanted to marry you, not really.”

“You and Marietta have that in common,” he said, wiping his face with his hands, sitting back. Guilt flooded in her chest, not knowing of his marriage problems. “Would all of this help if you didn’t have to live with Gyrsh? If you didn’t have to interact with him?”

Could she keep going if he wasn’t in the picture? Elyse tore at a hangnail, the skin stinging. “What would that look like?”

“Tomorrow, King Wyltam will submit the paperwork to Minister Dyieter about you emancipating from your father. You would move to your own room within the Noble’s Section. Gyrsh could not talk to you or approach you, but you would also lose any financial support from him.

“In exchange for room and living expenses, you will work for King Wyltam regarding magical research in secret and stay your title of Lady.” Keyain sighed before continuing. “As for your position on the Queen’s Court, that is at Queen Valeriya’s discretion, though I don’t think she’ll remove you.”

“And I could keep studying magic?” Hope blossomed in her chest. If anything else, she would have magic. Being a mage would be a greater freedom than some emissary’s wife, right? It had to be. Though the loss of Brynden hurt, the possibility of her new future dampened the pain.

“Yes, though I want to ask when did this start happening?” Keyain shifted in his seat, his brows lowered and pulled closer together.

“A bit ago. He saw me reading a book on magic in the library and offered his resources.” She hesitated, then added, “He mentioned my mother had been a mage.”

Keyain nodded his head. “She was. From what I heard, she was extraordinary.”

“So you knew as well but never told me.” Elyse dropped her hands to her lap, the hot burn of anger rising to her cheeks.

“It was better for you to not know, especially with how….” His voice trailed off as he stopped himself.

“How she wasted away?” Elyse shook her head. “I’d rather know than be ignorant.”

Keyain ingested her words, no emotion breaking through his mask. “Will you comply with the emancipation? We can have your stuff moved into a new room by tomorrow afternoon. Tonight, you can remain in the infirmary.”

Elyse slumped back against the wall on the bed.

“Sure,” she said, her mood deflated. How many people knew about her mother?

That Elyse could be like her? Even Sylas had known of her mother’s skill.

The frustration built in the back of her throat, tightening as emotion swelled.

She was a puppet, and the men in her life held the strings.

Elyse swore to give everything into being a mage so she could cut those strings.

No husband, father, friend, or king would decide for her again.

Keyain nodded as he stood. His hand clasped her knee before walking towards the door. “I’m really sorry, Elyse. For everything. If you’re looking for a friend, I think Marietta could use someone. Like you, she only has me in this court. You’re the only person I would trust with her.”

Gods, being friends with his wife after they were betrothed was an agonizing thought. Even if Marietta didn’t resent her, there was still the humiliation. Grytaine would thrive with insults. She nodded. Keyain patted her knee and left the room, leaving Elyse with her thoughts.

There was no more Brynden, no more Chorys Dasi. There would be no more days like that afternoon, where she could sit around with friends, feeling relaxed—feeling alive. The thoughts ached; but at least she had magic, and she wouldn’t have her father.

There was a chance that, maybe, she could survive a bit longer.