Page 178 of A Queen's Game
“I know that look,” Sylas said. “The girl will be fine.”
“Perhaps the girl should stay home,” she offered, failing to hide the bite in her voice. “That was original to the story, anyway.”
“You are no writer.” Sylas gave her a serious look, his lips barely moving as he spoke. “You control none of this story. It’s out of your hands now.”
Blood roared in her ears as Sylas bowed and took his leave. They intended to cut her out—cutting Nystanya and Reyila out. Chorys Dasi was betraying them. Her sister needed to know—immediately.
Chapter Sixty-Nine
Elyse
Seated on a balcony overlooking the Halia, The Waterway was one of the best restaurants in Satiros. A few years prior, Keyain took her to the restaurant as a night away from the palace, back when they were still betrothed. Now Elyse sat across from Keyain’s wife and next to a male who was desperate to marry her. Funny how time could change such things.
For how normal the evening started, the mood shifted to uncomfortable. No one at the table addressed it. Keyain remained quiet, not being his chatty self, leaving Brynden and Marietta to fill the silence—something in which they were both adept.
Elyse convinced herself that she misheard the baker call Marietta a different surname. She was Marietta Vallynte, not whatever name she spoke. Perhaps that was her maiden name; yet, Keyain’s uncomfortable silence, paired with his warning to Brynden to ask no more questions, left Elyse believing it was something else.
If the name wasn’t odd enough, Marietta also had a deep knowledge of baking—the bakery owner even knew her. When they disappeared into the back, Keyain had grown antsy, pacing,not saying a word. Brynden had asked why a noble lady would know a baker, to which Keyain threatened to ban him from the city if he asked any more questions. That had angered Elyse, but what upset her more was Marietta. Even as she talked, she had a sense of discomfort about her that lingered since she returned from the bakery kitchen. What was going on?
Marietta downed her third glass of wine, and her mood shifted into something lighter. Perhaps she should do the same. Elyse drained the rest of her cup, earning a glance from Brynden, whose hand slid to her knee with a squeeze.
To pull Brynden’s attention away from her drinking, she turned to Marietta. “Have you been back to the temple? I know you were visiting Therypon for a moment there.” She thought it was a civil enough question, but the look Keyain shot her suggested otherwise.
“Not for two weeks now, though I should make a point to visit again soon,” Marietta said, her gaze slipping out towards the river.
“A noble lady devoted to the gods?” Brynden asked, a playful smile across his face. “Was being the first half-elven lady not enough of an anomaly for you?”
Keyain went to speak, but Marietta cut him off. “Of course not. I’m trying to collect as many titles as possible. How silly would it be just to have one?”
“Silly indeed. ‘Lady Marietta Vallynte, the First Half-Elven Lady, Favored by the Gods’ has quite a ring to it.”
“It just slips off the tongue,” Marietta said, a smirk wrapping around her lips. “From what I hear, you’ve found yourself your own goddess to pray to, a fervent worshiper in your own right.”
Heat came to Elyse’s face at the comment as Brynden’s thumb brushed against her leg. Must they talk of this?
“Do you not believe in the goddess?” Brynden asked, giving Elyse a slight squeeze.
“Oh, no, I do. She can do anything she sets her mind to,” Marietta said, her smile sharpening. “However, you won’t catch me supplicating at her temple.”
Elyse caught Keyain’s confused stare, and her face grew hotter. Gods, he didn’t need to hear that—she didn’t want him to hear it either.
“A shame. I’d love to see a female supplicating at her temple,” Brynden mused, swirling the wine in his cup. “I am but a devoted male to my goddess, always ready to sing—and share—her praises.”
“Who knew being a devoted male made one so poetic?” Marietta said, placing a hand over her heart. “But I must ask, what’s your best method for praying? With your hands or by your mouth?”
Brynden’s smirk deepened, sipping his wine. “In my experience, both simultaneously are the best form of worship.”
Amryth, who stood on guard next to the door, covered her laugh with a cough. Marietta forced down her own chuckle as well. “A devoted follower indeed.”
“What are you two talking about?” Keyain asked, his glare passing between Marietta and Brynden.
Marietta leaned back into his arm looped around her seat. “Brynden refers to Elyse as the goddess.”
Though Keyain was bright, it took him a moment to replay their words for understanding to reach him. “For fuck’s sake,” he said, his face turning red as he drank from his glass.
Elyse must have been an equal shade of red. “Sorry,” she muttered.
“Trust me,” he said, shooting a look at Marietta, “it’s not your fault.”
