Page 172 of A Queen's Game
What was worse was not knowing what to gift Brynden. Elyse wanted something engraved, but when she had asked Keyain to buy a dagger, he scoffed, saying he wasn’t giving an unhinged male a weapon. In the end, she went with Keyain’s idea of a new clock that was small, handheld, and ran off of aithyr. Elyse shook her head; she couldn’t even find a present for him on her own. Nerves knotted her stomach as her fingers clutched the velvet bag.
An evening in the city should have been thrilling—why did Elyse only feel dread? Perhaps it was the looming answer she’d have to give Brynden, that she wouldn’t marry Sylas, that she would remain in Satiros while he returned to Chorys Dasi. A goodbye she never wanted to say.
At the main gate to the palace, Oak Boulevard stretched before her, the street lined with shops, gardens, and pedestrians going about their day. In the distance, the tall buildings gave way to the winding Halia River.
Elyse only turned back once after realizing Marietta, Keyain, and their guards waited near the gates. Marietta smirked, shooing Elyse ahead. Gods bless her for giving her privacy.
Elyse’s breath caught as she noticed Brynden leaning against the carriage. His crooked smile softened into a look of awe as he stood up straight. He’d tied the length of his hair back in a knot, a black shirt dipping low into his abdomen, tucked into black pants with embroidered gold filigree. The outfit brought a smile to her lips. Brynden looked every bit himself.
As Elyse approached, Bryden blinked, his stare roaming her body. “My dreams have come true,” he said. “The goddess comes to me in a gown of Chorys Dasian red.”
It was a near-replica of what Elyse wore the night they met, silky fabric tight to her frame and a square neckline that emphasized her chest; but instead of black silk, the gown was crimson with the necklace Brynden gifted at her neck.
He opened his arms, wrapping them around Elyse as she stepped into him. Brynden’s face nestled into her hair as he inhaled. “You are of another world, my goddess, and I am your most fervent worshiper.”
“And you truly are one for poetic proclamations,” Elyse said into his chest, careful not to smudge her makeup.
Brynden pulled back to look at her. “If anything, I am dramatic.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
He smiled down at her, hand rising to cup her cheek. “May I kiss you?”
“You don’t have to ask.”
“Well, the last time I kissed you, you were still my betrothed. And this time,” Brynden said, kissing her deeply before pulling back, “I don’t know what you are.”
Elyse let the words hover between them for a moment before revealing the velvet bag.
“What is this?” he asked, taking it.
“A gift.”
He shook his head. “Elyse, I needn’t a gift.”
“Please, just open it.”
Brynden hesitated, then undid the drawstring on the pouch, letting the golden metal fall into his hand. No larger than his palm, the outside was smooth metal with a clasp. Brynden pried it open to reveal the glass face of the clock, the twitching hands, and scrollwork numbers. The engraving on the lid pulled his focus, and he read, “To dream and hope of a future that could never be.”
His smile faltered, glancing up at Elyse. “This sounds like you’ve decided.”
“Brynden, I—”
He held up his hand, stopping Elyse. “Give me until the end of this evening. Then you decide our fate.”
Staring into his wide, hopeful eyes and crooked smile, Elyse didn’t have the heart to tell him no. A single evening with Brynden wasn’t enough to make up for the lies and it wasn’t enough to learn who he was beneath them.
When she hesitated, letting the silence settle between them again, Brynden cleared his throat. “Your drawing led me to believe bringing you to Chorys Dasi was still a possibility. Orshould I say lack of drawing?” He kissed her forehead. “My goddess is quite the creative.”
“I meant to show I didn’t know what my future will be,” she said, trying to step out of his arms, but he held her close.
“Yes, I discerned that from the blank paper with only ‘Future’ written across the bottom. But it could also mean you cannot predict the future, which includes you becoming my wife and living in Chorys Dasi.”
Elyse shook her head. “I don’t see how it’s possible. Even if I marry Sylas—”
“Please,” Brynden said, taking her hand and kissing it, “one more evening. Give me one last night; that’s all I ask.”
What chance would he have? There were countless unknowns, like Brynden himself. Elyse sighed, kissing him again. “I know you’re lying to me.”
