Page 97 of A Queen’s Game (Aithyr Uprising #1)

Sylas rubbed his thumb across her knuckles, considering his words.

“No one deserves what you went through, Elyse. Trauma builds on trauma, and you carry that with you every day. Despite the horrors your father has brought onto you, you still have the will to study magic, to gain your independence, and those prove you’re more resilient than anyone I’ve ever known. ”

“Like a raw diamond,” she murmured, remembering Brynden’s words from the townhouse.

“That’s not a bad comparison,” Sylas said, running his free hand through the curls of his hair. “I’m surprised to hear you make such a reference.”

“Brynden told me I was a raw diamond—that I’m resilient and full of potential.”

Sylas stared for a moment, then released her hand and resumed eating. “Of course he did. He isn’t wrong. Have you ever seen a raw diamond?”

“No,” she admitted.

Sylas laughed, swallowing a bite. “The reference is specific. Raw diamonds are unrefined, neither shaped nor polished. The lands I lord over are in the mountains of Chorys Dasi, and my people mine the black and white diamonds for the city-state’s export.”

Elyse forced herself to eat once more, happy for the change in subject. “I assumed you were just an emissary.”

“I’m a lot of things,” he said with a shrug.

“I’ve made myself useful in Chorys Dasi.

When I’m away at court or working for the Queen, my sister picks up my slack.

Though we bring in much gold from mining diamonds, our population is quaint and easier to manage.

” A smile came to his lips as he thought.

“You love it there,” she noted, smiling to herself.

“I do. I miss the fresh air and pine scent of the mountains. When I have free time, I hike up to the waterfalls, sleeping out under the stars in the summer.”

Pine scent—she tilted her head. “Is that why you smell like pine? Because it reminds you of home?”

Sylas went still. “What do you mean?”

Elyse ripped a chunk of bread as she remembered back to the day in the townhouse. “When you tied my dress, I smelled amber and pine cologne on you.”

His brows raised as he forced a laugh. “Correct, which is why I wear it. Every time I leave my family’s lands, I count down the days until I can return to the mountains.”

“The mountains must be beautiful,” she said wistfully. “Perhaps I could visit you one day.”

“If you can leave this palace, then of course.” Sylas shifted back in his chair, his arm resting atop the empty seat next to him. “Do you wish to leave Satiros still?”

A complicated question. “I do, but I may have found a way to leave on occasion.” Visiting the other courts on behalf of King Wyltam would at least get her out of Satiros.

“Would you like to leave for forever?” Sylas set down his fork, his expression growing serious.

“I don’t think marrying Brynden is a good idea.”

“There’s another option,” he said, raising a brow. “I offer my hand to you if you wish to be free of here.”

Her silverware dropped with a clatter to her plate. “What?”

“Hear me out,” he said, holding up his hands. “Not for any nefarious reason, but simply so you have a chance to be free.”

“I—what?” Elyse took a steadying breath, attempting to wrap her head around the idea.

“Be warned that being married wouldn’t prevent Brynden from pursuing a relationship, so also take that into consideration.” Sylas shifted in his chair, his lips pulling into a frown. “Regardless if you want to be with him, he will fight for you.”

“But you just said that I should stay in Satiros to study,” she said, exasperated. “Now you’re asking me to marry you?”

“I said that you should stay in Satiros if Brynden tried to change your mind,” Sylas said, dropping his arm to lean forward.

“No matter what promise he makes, there is no guarantee that he can marry you. But if you wished to leave, by your choice alone, if you wish to visit Chorys Dasi and see the mountains, if you want to escape this city-state, then I offer you a chance to be free.”

“And what about studying magic?”

Sylas huffed a dry laugh. “If you haven’t caught on,” he said, raising his hand. “I’m a mage, Elyse. I would teach you, though I have fewer resources and time.” A gust of air blew gently across her face from his hand.

Elyse stared at him, pulling her thoughts together as she remembered Sylas walking her through magic at the townhouse, or him looking at her notes. If he was an emissary but also a mage…. “Are you a spy?” Her eyes were wide as she pushed her chair back. Was Sylas what Wyltam wanted her to become?

“What?” he said, a scowl coming to his face. “What made you think that?”

“You said you’re an emissary and a mage—you’re capable of magic.”

“So is Brynden, though he doesn’t excel at it, not enough to be considered a mage. Oryck is competent, too,” he shook his head, laughing. “Satiros is the only court where the lords and ladies don’t study magic, don’t learn to control aithyr. King Wyltam’s mother was a paranoid ruler.”

“You would teach me?” Elyse could have an alternative to Wyltam’s plan.

“If that’s what you want,” Sylas said, leaning back. “I figured out who’s guiding your lessons. Though it’s a closely guarded secret, I know how talented King Wyltam was when he was younger, when the Circle of Mages still met.”

“What’s the Circle of Mages? And you shouldn’t know that about the King,” she whispered.

“It’s alright; I won’t even tell Brynden.

” Sylas considered her for a moment. “It was smart of him, considering your mother’s skill.

You have a raw talent that goes wasted, and with the right training, you could surpass your mother.

The King understands what happened to her as well, so he’ll be aware of the signs if aithyr affects your mind. ”

“How do you know all of this? Why are you offering to help me?” Elyse shook her head.

Sylas was silent a moment before sitting forward and resting both his arms on the table.

“The Circle of Mages was a group dedicated to studying aithyr and overseeing the ethical practices of magic. About a century and a few decades ago, the group disbanded. Your mother was a member, as was the King.”

“I never knew that,” Elyse said, attempting to remember her father ever mentioning such a thing. “How did you learn this?”

“I was in the Circle of Mages before they joined—before I had more responsibilities in Chorys Dasi.”

Before they joined? “Sylas,” she said, gripping the arms of her chair, “how old are you?”

“Older than I appear,” he said, frowning. “Older than both King Wyltam and your mother.”

“Yet you’re friends with Brynden, who is young.”

Sylas stared at her, saying nothing.

Because Brynden wasn’t young.

“But he’s younger than my father,” she said, panic rising in her throat. Oh, gods, she knew nothing of him. “Both of you seem younger than him—I don’t understand.”

Sylas sighed. “People assume we’re younger than we are. Brynden didn’t wish to tell you and you never asked for his age.”

No, she didn’t. What else didn’t she ask? How close was she to marrying a stranger?

“I told him to be honest with you,” Sylas added. “He told me he wasn’t lying, just omitting the truth.”

“I know nothing about him,” she said, her throat tightening. “I’m a gods damned idiot.” Elyse cradled her head in her hands.

“Hey,” Sylas said, drawing her gaze between her fingers, “you’re not an idiot—never say that about yourself. Brynden intentionally misinforming you does not make you idiotic.”

“But not asking is idiotic,” she retorted with a sigh, slumping back into her chair.

“I would argue it’s ignorant—” she shot him a glare “—something you learn with the more people you meet. It’s not like you’ve had the best guidance.”

Elyse stared at the plate of half-eaten food before her. Sylas, who was older than her parents—older than the King, offered to marry her, after Brynden, who was just as old, had wanted to marry her. A different kind of pain formed in her head. “What else don’t I know, Sylas?”

“What do you mean?”

“You Chorys Dasians, what are you hiding?”

“Nothing, Elyse.”

“There are too many things—me having a scent, your age, his mysterious family making all the decisions for him.” The food settled in her stomach like a rock, suddenly feeling sick once more.

“That’s a dangerous line of thinking, and one I suggest you don’t go down.” Sylas stared down at his shirt, picking something off it. “I’m guessing it’s a no to my proposal then.”

Elyse gave him an exasperated sigh. “Of course, it’s a no!”

Sylas looked up with a smile. “Good, that means you’re learning.” Elyse glared at him as he pulled a paper from his pocket. “Now I can give you this last letter from Brynden.”

Elyse yanked it out of his hand and left it unopened before her. Did she want to read what he wrote? Gods, did she even want to see him again? Brynden was a stranger—he was her humiliation.

Reluctantly, she opened it.

To see the body of a goddess makes me a lucky male.

To forever have it immortalized by her hand makes me blessed.

Your talent knows no bounds, and you have entangled my heart in ways I could never free myself.

I have no dreams of that release and would suffocate on your love if given the chance.

Death by your hand would be the sweetest ending.

My goddess, my darling, Elyse, you have me now and you will have me always, regardless of if you ever forgive me for my transgressions.

A male who has sinned against a goddess deserves the torment he brought onto himself, and I am a male who suffers.

The thought of losing you, to never hold your talented hands, to kiss the sweetness of your lips, is torture.