Page 75 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

“How peculiar that a king ponders such questions,” she teased. “Such interests must be difficult to pursue in your position. I wonder what type of person you would be without your crown.” If she and Valeriya were successful, then perhaps Marietta would see such a thing.

Outside, elven folk mostly walked the streets, but she did see pilinos trekking among them. Expensive-looking clothing seemed left behind in Petal Row, the denizens of this district dressed in practical, less formal attire.

“I often wonder about that myself.”

Marietta jerked her head back towards the King, a question sitting at the tip of her tongue.

Why would he have such thoughts? Did he not want to be king?

Yet she remained silent, watching as his thoughts took over, his eyes darting back and forth.

King Wyltam was odd, peculiar, nothing like she would expect a king to be, let alone a friend of Keyain.

Keyain was grounded by reality, of seeing the future and how he can plan his way to it.

The King, well, he pondered life’s big questions.

How frustrating it must be that he couldn’t explore such ideas.

The carriage turned, heading south according to the direction of the sun.

Like the park, leafy trees populated the area, replacing the lush wisteria from the fancier parts of the city.

The further they traveled, the more pilinos she saw.

A few people turned towards the carriage; yet she knew they couldn’t see her inside.

What would they think of a half-elf in the lone presence of the King?

Gods, what did they think of a half-elven lady?

Perhaps they thought she betrayed them, basking in the wealth of noble life while those who looked like Marietta were treated as lesser, but the man who sat across from her was to blame, too busy thinking of life and not of those he should serve.

Irritated, she swallowed a sigh. Marietta would change the Satiroan society, though. Together, she and Valeriya would deliver the Exisotis the information, and they would break the Satiroan court from within, starting with Keyain.

She peeked out the window in the direction they headed, and her brows furrowed.

The buildings grew tall and narrow, looking as if the structures were smashed together haphazardly, like a cheap quilt stitched and patchy.

Plants crowded the balconies, the vines and brambles twisting every which way, cascading down the buildings’ facades.

The cobblestone road ended at the knobby buildings, and beyond she could see dirt streets crowded with people.

As they approached, she could see the stunted and rounded tips of ears.

She could see the facial hair on the men—a feature of only those who are pilinos.

But there was no elven. Her lips pursed, her irritation building as she turned to the King.

He was already watching her with his normal icy expression settled over his face.

“Rambler Grove. The only district in which pilinos can live. Most citizens refer to it as The Weeds.” He glanced at his shirt, plucking something off and letting it drop to the floor.

It was clever, the casual arrogance of such a gesture, as if talking about the only district for people like her wasn’t worth his full attention.

She dug her nails into her palms as she glanced back. “Couldn’t let them spread out of the district, so you had the buildings built higher to fit more, huh?” She should have hidden the disdain in her voice while talking to the King, yet she left caution behind.

“Historically, yes.” From the corner of her eyes, she watched him shift back into a seated position. “The pilinos’ population seems to grow by a third each year. Only half of The Weeds’ inhabitants are native to Satiros. We have many pilinos from the other cities hiding within our city-state.”

“As if it’s better here,” she mumbled, glaring at the chaotic buildings.

Enomenos wouldn’t allow such shoddy structures, deemed too dangerous, too carelessly built.

Past the buildings, she noticed people pulling carts—and then it hit her.

“You don’t let them have horses.” Marietta turned to King Wyltam with an incredulous laugh.

“The elven can learn magic, afford to hire mages for such tasks, so not having beasts to pull wagons and carts isn’t an issue.

” Her words boiled out of her from the rage that built inside.

“But for them—” she jabbed her finger into the glass “—you don’t allow for any aid, so they pull it themselves. ”

His dark eyes hardened at her tone. “As you said, not having horse shit in the city is enjoyable for many.”

Her nails nearly broke through her skin for how hard she pressed.

So this was the proper Satiroan experience for a pilinos, to lose out on the privilege of magic in a city ran by it.

Gods, she bet if she were to walk through the streets of The Weeds, she would find gas lanterns lining the walkways in place of the fancy light globes.

“Life is better for those outside the city-state walls,” the King added. “Though all pilinos outside the walls are natural-born citizens of Satiros.”

“Why would that matter?” The question came out sharper than she intended, but the King didn’t acknowledge it.

“Those who flee the other Syllogian city-states do so illegally. There’s a universal law, agreed to by the various queens and kings of Syllogi, that if a criminal of one city-state is in another, they have the right to extradite them.

” He paused, cocking his head at Marietta.

“But in Satiros, I don’t allow the other city-states’ guards inside our walls. ”

“And why is that?” she ground out.

“Too many resources spent on tracking them, making sure they don’t take anyone they’re not supposed to take,” he said in such a casual manner as if it were an annoyance and not an immoral act.

“So, our guards focus on protecting the pilinos living outside the walls, ensuring that those who were born here can live peacefully within their means.”

“And you don’t care if you have criminals living in your city?”

“No,” he drawled. “As long as they commit no crimes here. We have an obvious space issue, but they make do.”

Marietta laughed again. “Unbelievable.”

“Is there something wrong, Marietta?”

She shook her head, watching the last bit of the district pass by.

Pilinos were forced to cram into a single spot, and he dismissed it as an obvious space issue.

As if they didn’t matter. As if they were an afterthought.

Did no one in the Satiroan government care about these people?

Marietta knew the answer. The people running Satiros haven’t set the precedent of caring, and now they grew more apathetic to pilinos.

Then again, why would they care about people they deemed lesser than themselves?

They crossed over the Halia River once more, traveling in silence.

The buildings shifted back to white, the signs indicative of trades folk and their businesses.

Based on what she’s learned thus far about Satiros, she knew that only the elven had such shops and that the pilinos were their grunts. She didn’t have to ask.

In Satiros, she could have never opened her bakery unless it was in The Weeds. What kind of money do people make in such a stunted district? They had to make less than their elven counterparts. So how much gold filtered through their community?

She crossed her arms, glaring out the window, and wished they would hurry. A park passed by, the slope of green grass leading to… a building?

Marietta leaned forward, pressing her face to the glass as she looked down the street.

Her jaw dropped. They were townhomes—opulent and extensive townhomes.

Though they shared walls, the lawns of grass and flower beds and manicured hedges stretched before them.

The sprawl of the homes and their land were insulting.

To have so much space, to have such lavish homes while they forced the pilinos to live in close quarters, was despicable.

“The last district we will see today is Wisteria Heights.” King Wyltam broke their silence, his deep voice just above a whisper. “Home to Satiros’ wealthiest. Some lords own a second home in this district, as do some nobility from the other Syllogian city-states.”

Ornate columns of marble; wrought iron fencing on the balconies; rich, dark wood doors; elaborate garden displays surrounding statues. Each detail was more insulting than the last.

“I believe some of the high-ranking guards under Keyain live here as well, if I’m not mistaken.”

Keyain’s guards. Those given high positions by him and allowed to live in such extravagance. He played a hand in this—all of this. Marietta took a deep breath through her nose, exhaling slowly to calm the flame of anger inside her, stoked by the disgusting show of wealth.

She would break apart their court for not just every life lost in Olkia, but for each one suppressed in The Weeds, too.

Marietta would steal, she would lie, and she would become cruel if it meant helping them.

And for the man who brought her here, she would break him.

Keyain allowed all of this to happen—thrived off his city-state being this way.

And the King. She turned her narrowed gaze towards him.

He neglected the most vulnerable of his city-state.

The wedge that Valeriya wanted to create between Keyain and Wyltam?

Marietta would become it, for he gave her a unique opportunity.

She could use Keyain’s jealousy against him.

King Wyltam met her stare. “Something on your mind?”

“Does your offer still stand?”

His expression remained unreadable. “Of course.”

She lifted her chin. “I have a few stipulations.”

“And what would those be?”

“I have questions, ones Keyain will never answer. I accept your flirtations if you answer those questions.”

He blinked, his gaze roaming her face. “Counteroffer: You accept my flirtations and we agree to answer each other’s questions.” He paused, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his knees. “We trade a truth for a truth.”

Unsurprising. Marietta knew the King wanted information from her; yet she knew nothing that would harm Enomenos. They were terms she could accept. There posed but one problem. “Here’s my counter, King Wyltam. Keyain would never believe it if I just accepted your flirting, your gifts.”

“How do you suppose we solve that?”

She leaned forward, mirroring the King’s posture. “If you want to make it believable, then I must act like you make me uncomfortable. That you’re doing it against my will.”

A laugh escaped his smiling lips, surprise lining his features. Marietta’s heart stopped at the sight and sound. How strange of someone wearing an expressionless mask to suddenly remove it. How strangely charming.

She hated it.

“Cruel and clever; you are nothing like I expected.” The brief smile faded back to his impassive expression. “But there’s logic in your reasoning to which I can agree. Consider it part of the deal.” He held out his hand to Marietta, waiting for her to grasp.

The deal was a tad foolish, knowing every word the King would share could be a lie; yet she could pluck the truth from his words if it came to that. Marietta wanted answers. One way or another, she would get them, all while using Keyain’s weakness against him.

For the first time since stepping into Satiros, Marietta felt like herself. Confident, independent, making a deal that would put her in control.

She grasped the King’s hand and shook.

King Wyltam locked eyes with her. “I look forward to working with you, Marietta.”