Page 18 of A Queen's Game
Had she seen them before? She must have, for their guidance seemed familiar; yet, nothing came to mind. Nothing. Even the crushing grief from Tilan’s death no longer weighed on herheart; the pain was nothing. She was nothing, and she welcomed it.
Time skipped with a blink and Marietta found herself in a room of gold filigree and marble statues. On a couch, she sat across from two other bodies with heads shrouded in clouds, like her companion who was beside her. A deep rumbling came from their chest, the words lost on Marietta, but a hand squeezed her arm. Golden light leaked through tall windows, lighting their clouded heads in a glow. A smile crept to Marietta’s face at the shifting gauzy cloud in the sunlight, appearing like sunsets. Beautiful.
Between them was a coffee table, but Marietta’s eyes locked on what held the glass top: a reptilian statue, its head supported the top on one side, and the tail flipped up, holding the other. The texture was that of scaled tree bark, from its pointed face to the legs that ended in sharpened claws. Draped across its back was a sheet of carved moss with matching bits of moss hanging from its jaw. The creature enchanted Marietta as she stared into its eyes, to the anger that radiated from them. She gasped when she felt the rage rolling off the statue, constant and threatening. It didn’t want to be there. Her companion squeezed her hand, the clouded head darkening to a shade of gray. They didn’t understand. It was trapped. The creature didn’t belong in the castle; it craved to be free, like she once wanted.
Marietta wished to touch the reptilian creature, to run her fingers over the barked scales of its hide and soothe its anger. Shifting to stand, her companion’s hand squeezed her thigh, halting her. But she needed to inspect the creature. Marietta tried moving again, this time the squeeze accompanied by a warning tone. The cloud on her companion’s head turned black.
She furrowed her brows, looking between the creature and her companion. They didn’t understand—the creature needed help. As a final attempt, she struggled to get up once more.Instead, her companion hooked an arm around, gripping her on the seat. Fury radiated from their body. She tried to wriggle her way out, but the grasp was too strong. Marietta surrendered and sat there as they wanted.
The pattering of rain on the window and the rumble of thunder greeted Marietta as she woke in her room. Wasn’t she supposed to be doing something? Helping someone? Gods, what day was it? She raised a hand to her temple, rubbing in small circles, wishing the fog would clear.
Lights danced in her view as she sat up. No memories came to mind as she tried to recall what had happened since the last morning she woke. There was a statue, wasn’t there? Or was it a person? Why wouldn’t the details come?
Her mind instead wandered to Tilan, the memories searing into her heart. His laugh, the way his eyes crinkled at the edges when he smiled, were wounds in her chest. Marietta wished they had taken more time together, that they had taken a trip to Notos sooner. The regret was all-consuming, to never allow themselves a break. Never would they sit in the blistering sun with their feet in the salty water of the Evangi Sea. Their chance had passed.
What did her parents think? How had they reacted to Marietta’s abduction? To Tilan’s murder? Her elven father urged her never to date a Syllogi elf, and all this time she thought it was an overreaction. Did they worry about her or mourn Tilan? Gods, did they know? If they did, they would have given Tilan a proper funeral, standing beside his pyre and grieving him as family. After all, they adored Tilan.
On their first trip to Notos to visit her parents, Tilan won them over. Her father loved him from the start, fostering friendship between them. Her mother outright fell for him.
The morning after they had arrived, Tilan fixed her mother’s wheelbarrow and the fence’s gate. Both were things he noticed the day prior, waking before everyone else to repair them. Marietta’s mother commented on how sweet he must be, but that was Tilan—always trying to help, always tinkering or designing something. Marietta didn’t tell him until months later but that trip was when she fell in love with him.
Marietta hugged her legs, resting her forehead on her knees. The world lost such a remarkable person. Tilan, a man with a generous heart and thoughtful mind, ever having more to give. He was the most important person to her. He was the man who loved her truly, who gave all of himself to her. Tears fell as she wished she could hold him one last time.
Chapter Nine
Valeriya
Valeriya sat with the ladies of the Queen’s Court, concerned about the words they exchanged. They were drinking tea on the terrace above the Queen’s Garden that held dense flower beds and twisting paths. It was their usual spot, but they had a new topic of conversation: the half-elf.
Lady Grytaine Lasyda gossiped with a smile plastered to her lips. “A shame that Keyain’s mystery wife is so….” She paused dramatically, feigning to search for the word. “Dull, if you will.” A few of the ladies hid smiles behind their hands as they failed to keep their composure. As per usual, Grytaine basked in the attention. Though she was nearly through her first century of life, she had the tact of a child. Valeriya held her sigh as she wished the lady would stop trying so hard.
Coming from a wealthy family—not a noble one—made Grytaine unique in the Satiroan court. Her marriage to Royir, the Minister of Coin, was far more bizarre, being that he was her senior by four centuries. Though there was much gossip about the courting and marriage, Grytaine learned to thrive on it. Suchthick skin made her a fine fit in the Satiroan court, where gossip ran rampant. The one downfall she had, Valeriya noted, was that she didn’t know when to keep her lips together.
Grytaine turned her focus to the youngest lady in the Queen’s court. “Have you met the half-elf yet, Elyse?” Valeriya’s expression remained pleasant as Grytaine baited Elyse once again. Withholding a sigh, she prepared to intervene.
“I haven’t had the pleasure.” Elyse’s eyes grew wide with the attention as her bronze skin flushed red. Such a nervous girl. Even after being in the Queen’s court for five years, she remained as apprehensive as her first day.
“Pity,” Grytaine said. “You should see what his wife is like.”
Elyse’s eyes darted to her lap as her jaw worked, and Valeriya waited just another moment before stopping them. One way or another, the girl would learn to speak for herself. Elyse cleared her throat, not bothering to lift her head. “I’m sure she’s lovely.”
Grytaine hid a sharp smile behind her teacup. “That’s one way to describe her.” A round of stifled laughs filled the terrace. “Though after meeting Lady Marietta, I can understand why you were so appealing to him.”
Elyse’s gaze shot to Grytaine and her lips moved, though no words came out. In her lap, her hands tore at the fabric of her dress. When it became clear she wouldn’t answer, Valeriya cleared her throat. “Grytaine, your and Royir’s anniversary is coming up, is it not?” The room turned their eyes from Elyse to her. “Exciting times. I’m sure you’re both eager for a child.”
Grytaine’s smile faltered. “Quite eager, but of course there’s still time.” Valeriya stilled her smile at the response. It was an obvious target to aim upon, but her husband wanted another heir and grew impatient. As if there wasn’t enough stress on reproduction for nobles. Valeriya had her own horrible experience as far as that went. She pushed such thoughts aside.
Lady Tryda, the wife of Satiros’ Minister of Law, spoke up. “I’m sure you’ll conceive any day now, my dear.” Gray marked the temples of the heavyset elven female, her dark skin lined with years. After centuries at court, she always offered drops of wisdom to share. Much to Valeriya’s annoyance, most of it was directed at her. As the previous Hand of the Queen to Wyltam’s mother, Valeriya thought it would help bolster her position among the nobles. Instead, Tryda often shared how she could be a better queen.
“As for Keyain’s wife,” Tryda added, “we should look at her situation with empathy. Lady Marietta has endured more than we can imagine; it will take her time to recover. Until she is ready, perhaps we should give her the confidence that she is not her normal self.”
Valeriya noted the ladies who exchanged smirks behind their teacups—Grytaine included. Someone whispered the wordclip. After all the time spent in Satiros’ court, Valeriya had hoped to change their views of pilinos for the better. With Marietta’s arrival, the amount of work she had left to do became glaring. After all, if the court that presided over the city-state still slipped slurs and demeaning comments, then how would pilinos ever become equals? Irritated, Valeriya tapped her teacup. Marietta would bode well as a test for the court, to see how they accepted a half-elf into their ranks.
Of all the nobles to be accepting of pilinos, Valeriya hadn’t expected Keyain. Some of the court whisperings said that Keyain developed a close relationship with Wyltam’s mother—the horrid Queen Olytia, who set the strictest laws against pilinos in Satiros. Despite that, he had married Marietta. Something like hope sparked from within, that even those with the strongest hate for pilinos could change.
There was a chance, maybe, that Valeriya could use Marietta towards her goal. If she grew close with the half-elf andshowed she carried her favor, then perhaps Marietta could draw relationships from the other nobles at court. Yes, that could work, but it left one glaring question: what happened to Marietta, and why was she left in Enomenos for so long? The truth of her history needed to be uncovered before Valeriya could plan on using her. That meant she had some work to do.
Chapter Ten
