Page 201 of A Queen's Game
Az grabbed her wrist hard enough she couldn’t pull out of it. “Please. Is this what you want?” His lips trembled as he spoke, emotion choking his words.
“Brynden!” Sylas bellowed from the first floor.
“You’re a stranger,” she whispered.
“I’m the same male,” he pleaded. “As dramatic and self-loving as ever. I’m the same male who wrote you letters, who praised your drawings. Elyse, I’m still me.”
“But who are you? I know nothing of you. And after the other type of elf nonsense that you spouted yesterday, I know you’re lying to me. About everything!” She used the heel of her hands to wipe away the tears. “I’m going back to the palace.”
She turned, but he grabbed her hand. “Okay,” he choked out. “If that’s what you want, I won’t persuade you to stay.” He took a steadying breath. “But you can’t tell anyone about my name, or about our elven heritage. They will kill you if you talk, Elyse, and even I don’t have that much power to prevent it.”
“Who arethey?”
He shook his head. “Promise me, please. You leaving is tearing me apart—” he squeezed her hand “—but I cannot handle you dying. The end of you is the end of me.”
Elyse shook her head. “You’re crazy,” she said, taking a step down the hall, but his grip held her back.
“This is breaking my heart.” He closed the space between them, his hand caressing her cheek, brushing his thumb over her lips as a tear fell from his eye. He gave a sad laugh. “Now that you’re leaving, I can feel it.”
She stared into his russet eyes, wishing he would stop talking, that he would leave the words unsaid.
“I love you, Elyse.”
She took a shattering breath. Elyse wanted to love him. She wanted to say it back. “I’m sorry.”
Stepping out of his grasp, she spared him one last glimpse. To his dark hair, pulled back but mussed from sleep. To his slightly hooked nose, set wrong after an injury in the army. His high cheekbones. His soft lips. Elyse took it all in, imprinting the details to her mind.
Sylas waited in the foyer, leaning against the opened front door, Keyain’s voice ranting on the porch step. The expression Sylas gave her was pitiful. She wanted his scowl, his amused smirk, not his pity.
“Wait,” Az called, running down the stairs to her. He cupped her face, staring into her eyes, then kissed her. His arms held her close, letting the kiss linger on her lips.
She should pull away, should tell him no, but she wanted his kiss. She wanted to wake up in his bed, the morning just a vivid nightmare. As he pulled back, the reality of the situation hit her.
“Goodbye for now, goddess. I’ll pray every day until I make my way back to you.” He lifted her hand, kissing her palm. “I will keep every promise I made to you.”
“Hurry up,” Keyain yelled.
Oh, gods, was he pissed.
She tore her gaze away from Az and walked out the front door. Sweat coated the loose-fitting training clothes that Keyain wore, his hair slick with sweat. He took one glance at her, swearing. “What happened?”
“Nothing, Keyain,” she said, making to walk past him, but he caught her arm.
“I am not in the mood for this,” he said through gritted teeth. “Tell me what happened—you’re crying, and you have a fucking mark on your neck. Did Brynden force himself on you?”
Az appeared in the doorway with a snarl on his face. “Bastard, I would never—”
“Stop,” snapped Sylas.
Elyse squeezed her eyes shut, wishing to be far away from Az. “No, he didn’t force himself on me. Can we please go?”
“Then why are you crying? And you,” he said, turning his anger towards the townhouse. “Do you get off on marking young girls, branding yourself on their necks?”
“First of all, she’s an adult—not a girl,” Az hissed. She turned to see Sylas holding him back in the doorway.
“If she acts like a child, I’ll treat her as one.”
“And second, fuck you, Keyain,” Az spat. “I’m in love with Elyse.”
