Page 82 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

“All beauty is frivolous. The world could be ugly, and yet all would function the same,” he said, glancing at her. “No, I don’t appreciate art, but I enjoy the secrets these statues hold.”

Marietta tilted her head, her gaze finding the inky blackness of the King’s eyes. “What secrets do they hold?”

He smiled—not smirked—but smiled, cracking the cold features with something warm, something personal.

The sight made Marietta breathless. “No one knows who sculpted the statues. There’s no record; no book holds the name.

Yet throughout Syllogi, these statues are prevalent, exposed to the elements, yet remain unmarred.

I can’t help but think of who—or what—carved them. ”

Marietta studied the statues, lingering on the nearest satyr.

The carved stone was flawless, every detail exact and realistic.

Pure euphoria exuded from the smiling face, Marietta sensing it in her core.

The female creature at the cave held menacing anger in her expression.

The pure, undiluted rage cut deep within Marietta, much of what mirrored her own emotions.

“These statues might hold secrets, but they hold something deeper.”

“And what would that be?”

“Pure emotion, like crashing waves,” she said, turning to him. “Just look at their faces, so expertly carved that I can’t help but sense what they feel.”

The King’s eyes narrowed. “And what emotions do you feel? Are they all the same?”

“No. The satyrs are euphoric, carefree. The female creature in the cave holds rage so deep, so heavy, that I have nothing I can compare to it.”

“A naiad.”

Marietta smiled. “I remember my father sharing the stories of naiads. I always loved the one about Callithyia.”

The King raised a brow at her. “That is a very uncommon feyrie tale to recall. What do you remember of it?”

“I’m surprised you even know of it.” Marietta turned her attention to the fountain.

“Callithyia was a naiad to a water fey of the elemental domain, ordered to protect one of the fey’s rivers.

The feyrie tale said she was beautiful enough to draw the attention of a powerful arch fey who stole her from her river.

Callithyia tried to escape, but the arch fey caught her.

As punishment, he transformed her into a white cow, thinking being a beast would dissuade her from ever leaving his side again.

However, Callithyia was determined to be free of his control, be it as a naiad or as a beast. When she eventually escaped, the arch fey sent his minions after her, so she was destined to roam forever in order to remain free. ”

“It’s a dour story to be a feyrie tale you love,” noted King Wyltam.

“I’d argue that it’s inspiring,” Marietta said, glancing at the King. “That no matter what body you are in, your freedom is worth fighting for.”

“Quite a parallel to you.”

Marietta took a deep breath, the likeness not lost to her. For the King to point out the comparison sent chills down her spine. “They’re just stories, anyway.”

“Stories hold meaning. Just because they’re imagined doesn’t mean they don’t hold significance.” The King paused, stepping to Marietta’s side. “Do you believe they ever truly existed?”

“The fey?” she asked, turning to him. “I’m not sure. My father always said it was possible that they had existed, even though no one alive had ever seen them. We have all these stories, all this knowledge about them. Do you know about the domains?”

A slight smile hinted at his lips. “I do. Elemental, beastial, botanical, and ethereal. Each of the domains responsible for their own ilk and creatures.”

“Exactly. Sometimes their world seems too complex, too elaborate to be stories.” Marietta said, turning to the satyr statue before them.

“When I first saw the statues in the Central Garden, I couldn’t help but be in awe.

Their renditions were always how my father described such fey creatures.

I wish I could meet the artist.” Their skill was similar to that of Tilan’s, to the detail woven into the nymph dagger that she loved.

The King’s smile deepened as he inspected the nearest nymph. “They were indeed a master of their craft, and I’m glad they caught your eye. You and I are more alike than I thought.”

“You’ve said that twice now,” she said, raising a speculative brow. “You honor such a lowly half-elf as me by making such a comparison.” She gave him a mock bow. She shouldn’t be so carefree with the King, but what was the harm?

King Wyltam exhaled a slight laugh, looking in the opposite direction as if he wanted to hide it. To get a laugh from such an austere man delighted her. Perhaps he wasn’t a storm cloud after all.

“Come,” he said, holding out his arm, “walk with me.”

The fabric of his black shirt was soft against her skin as Marietta took his arm. From the corner of his eye, he stared at Marietta with a light smile lining his lips. He flipped his head to fling his hair away from his face.

Marietta noted he had no entourage, no guards at his side.

Wouldn’t Keyain make sure soldiers protected the King?

Yet King Wyltam was alone in the Glass Garden as he was in the Central Garden the week prior.

Under her grasp was the King’s hidden strength, leading her to wonder how capable he was of defending himself.

“I’m lucky I get your company once again after Keyain kept you hidden for a week.” The King leaned in close to her head. “Seemed our plan worked a little too well.”

“I think it worked perfectly,” she said, shrugging. For a moment, she thought back to King Wyltam’s gaze as he kissed her hand. Her next step hit the edge of the stone path, her ankle rolling as she gasped.

The King caught her, one arm tucked around her middle, before helping her stand. “Careful now,” he murmured.

She tried to shrug it off with a stride, but the pain caused her to curse. “I can’t put any gods damn weight on it.”

“Such a filthy mouth for a lady.”

Marietta cut him a glare.

Offering a small smile, the King said, “If you’d like, I can carry you.”

She looked down at the dual slits of her skirt, knowing that if the King cradled her, the fabric would fall away to the top of her hips. “How about you help me walk to a bench?”

“Of course,” he said, lifting his arm.

Marietta placed her weight on the King, wincing as she stepped.

He eased her onto a stone bench beside a manicured row of boxwood.

Bushes of purple-flowered thyme and basil grew in planters flanked on either side.

King Wyltam sat beside her, his leg touching hers.

She peered down at her throbbing ankle, hissing as she tried to move it.

“It’s swollen already,” the King noted, leaning down to inspect. “Here, rest it on the bench. Raising it should help with the swelling.” He stood as she protested.

“I will not make you stand while my leg takes up the bench,” she said, scoffing.

The King sat down once more. “Then put it on my lap.” He looked down at her ankle, his dark eyes glancing back at her.

“I am most certainly not putting my leg on your lap.” She leaned away from him with a scowl. “It’ll be fine as is.”

“It’ll only get worse, so either I stand so you can place your leg across the bench, or I sit so you can place it across my lap.”

“Is that a demand from the King?” she said, mockingly.

“Actually,” he said with a tilt of his head, “it is. Now pick one, or I’ll pick for you.”

She sighed. “Fine, sit.”

The King raised her leg, Marietta having to turn, so she stretched across the seat.

She leaned back on her hands to support herself, careful of the skirt of her dress and where it fell open.

Such proximity in the dress would have made her uncomfortable.

However, if the King loved Keyain—found someone like Keyain attractive—then surely such a show of skin wasn’t an issue for her.

“Under different circumstances, I would say this is inappropriate,” she said.

“Curious, what circumstances?”

Marietta gestured at her leg. “At least you don’t find me attractive.”

The King glanced down, then back at her. “Please explain to me why I would not find you attractive?”

“Because you loved Keyain, and fortunately my body is completely different from his.”

“Quite presumptuous of you. I find different aspects attractive depending on the gender. For example, I like women with curves.” His gaze drifted to her thighs for a moment.

“And prefer men or non-binary persons with brawn.” A playful smile held his lips as he stared at Marietta.

“That being said, I do, in fact, find you rather attractive.”

“Then this is too inappropriate.” She moved her leg, but the King’s hand fell, stopping her.

“I’m only trying to help.” The King frowned, removing his hand. “I can stand if you wish.”

She sighed, clenching her eyes. “Fine—it’s fine.”

“You’re quite flustered.”

She opened her eyes, finding one side of the King’s mouth lifted to a smile. “I’m fine.”

“Fine enough to continue trading truth for truth? I do believe it’s my turn.”

“Ah, yes,” Marietta said, her eyes narrowing. “Right after you admitted you loved Keyain.”

“And you too loved him at one point,” the King reminded her, causing Marietta to glower. “How did Keyain become your bodyguard?”

Marietta sighed, tilting her head back to watch the mist furl above them.

“I traveled all over Enomenos and hiring a new guard every week grew tiresome; so, I searched for someone permanent. I was to meet with a Syllogi elf named Alyck, and he brought along Keyain. Let’s just say Keyain and I hit it off, and he offered to take the job. ”

The King was silent for a moment. Marietta noted the slight pursing of his lips, the twitching of his brow.

“Do you not believe me?” she asked

Amusement flickered in his eyes. “I believe you, Marietta, but you wasted your next question.”

She gave him a leveling stare. “That’s not very honorable.”