Page 15 of A Queen's Game
Wyltam knew how to crawl under her skin and rub against each one of her nerves, which was why she never sought him out. Working with Wyltam was like trying to break chains with her hands—a fruitless effort that would never work and only left her bruised. He hindered the city-state’s success, which meant hewas a threat to her legacy. After all, Valeriya only agreed to the marriage to become a queen.
Her home, the Queendom of Reyila, sat in the Systada Mountains to the north. All her life, Valeriya knew her sister would ascend to become its Queen, and Valeriya had done everything in her power to stay at her side. That remained true until one thing had become clear: she would never have a legacy with the shadow her sister cast. Instead, she agreed to Wyltam’s hand after learning about his aloof work within his court. Valeriya had thought there to be an opportunity to influence Satiros, but her husband had other ideas.
“That will be a private discussion between Keyain and me.” The deep, dull tone of his voice was devoid of emotion.
Valeriya scoffed at his unsurprising nature. “When? Whenever it suits you?” she asked, pausing in the doorway to scowl at her husband.
“When I have the time,” he replied, not bothering to look up.
“You don’t think it’s urgent that your Minister of Protection married a half-elf in secret?” Valeriya shook her head. As if Keyain’s position of controlling the city-state guards and soldiers wasn’t enough of importance, Valeriya thought Wyltam would at least care if his oldest friend hid such a secret from him. Useless as always.
His body tensed. “Why do you care if it’s urgent?”
She narrowed her eyes. “You claim Keyain is your friend—likely your only true friend—yet you have little interest in his long, lost wife?”
He blinked, his expression unreadable. “Keyain made his choice.”
“So you don’t care that he’s married to a half-elf?”
“At this point,” he said, sighing, “he could marry a human for all I care.”
Valeriya shook her head. Wyltam and Keyain remained friends out of formality after two centuries together. What had happened between them was somewhere between tragic and petty. Valeriya had only learned of it through gossip. “What is it with Keyain, my husband? Tell me, how was it that your childhood friend got to the highest position beside you, at such a young age, too? How do you feel about him marrying the half-elf behind your back after you helped him rise so high?” The sharper her voice grew with each word, the closer she leaned into her husband.
Despite her digging, his expression remained the same. “Keyain is many things to me, but at the moment, I find him to be a fool.” He lowered his head once more, placing his finger back on his book. “You’re dismissed.”
Valeriya sneered, not bothering to hide her expression. How would he have seen it, anyway? His book swallowed his attention before she even turned. The door slammed behind her. Wyltam made her a queen, but it was an empty title. At most, she could affect court life. No one wrote books about queens like that. Change inspired historians to write and bards to sing; it made for a story worth telling. Valeriya would do everything in her power to ensure her life meant something—that her legacy lived long after her ashes scattered to the winds. To do that, she needed help.
The most useful thing about her sister Nystanya being the Queen of Reyila was that she still had powerful allies—her husband, King Auryon, included. Little did Wyltam know she had contacted them a few months ago, and their plan was already in motion.
Valeriya lifted her chin as she strode down the hall, each step carrying her farther from the male she despised. If she wanted to make history, then the change needed to be worthy. What better way to be remembered than to blend the pilinos andelven population of Satiros? As it stood, anyone not fully elven was considered a lesser citizen—a traditional Syllogian societal structure—yet, in Reyila, the pilinos were equal to the elves.
With her sister’s help, Valeriya would reform Satiros by removing her husband from his throne and taking his place as its ruler. Then, when the dust settled, they would change Chorys Dasi—King Auryon’s home city-state. It would be a mountainous moment in history, one surely to land her name in the books for years to come.
Valeriya would be remembered, even if it cost her everything.
Chapter Seven
Elyse
Elyse paced outside her father’s study, stomach clenched with apprehension. Her father didn’t disclose why he summoned her, but she knew. The half-elf arrived.
What if she upset him? Her father was quick to blame misfortune on Elyse. It had always been that way. Her heart flipped in her chest, palms clammy as they gripped the doorknob, pausing as her head grew light.
“Will you just get in here?” called her father’s voice, laced with irritation.
The nerves clenched her stomach again, the pain making her want to turn and run from her father. This wasn’t a talk she looked forward to having, one that she often pushed from her mind to keep her anxiety at bay.
Elyse opened the door, stepping in to see her father behind his desk. His young face turned to a document he read. Papers were in ordered piles, correspondents with the other Syllgian courts. His position, Minister of Foreign Affairs, meant dealing with the city-states outside of Satiros. It also made him a prominent figure at court.
With numb limbs and a leaden stomach, she took a seat in the leather chair before her father’s desk. Avoiding his gaze, shestared at her hands clasped in her lap, turning white with her grip as she tried not to shake.
“Elyse, we’ve talked about this. Hold your head up when talking to people.” His tone was harsh. “Would you act this way with the Queen? Or around other court ladies?”
The copper tang of blood filled her mouth as she bit into her cheek. She looked at her father, the elf who was a near mirror image of herself. With her chin now lifted, her eyes found his matching set, honey finding honey.
“It’s official,” he said.
“I assumed as much.”
