Page 206 of A Queen's Game
A cold dread washed through Valeriya, her chest beginning to ache. She reached out to the aithyr once more. “Who has the ruling voice in Reyila right now?” A sickening feeling settled in her stomach. It couldn’t be true. Not her sister.
After a few minutes with no reply, she reached out again. “Nastanya, please. What happened?”
There was a moment of silence, and then a new voice sounded in her head. “My uncle and brother will finish carrying out our plan. Enjoy your remaining time in Satiros. You’ll return to Reyila after we’re done.”
The smooth voice of Auryon sent chills through her body. Chorys Dasi took it over. They cut them out—cut Valeriya out. Now they were taking her throne away.
Part of her wanted to race to Wyltam, to his ministers, foil the plan entirely, but that wouldn’t bode well for her. She’drather live in Reyila than rot in the dungeons of Satiros. Her hands were tied. Everything she had worked for, had fought for, came crumbling down around her.
The bedroom felt too small, too confined. Valeriya threw open the doors to the balcony and stepped out into the cloudy evening. On the horizon, black clouds churned with streaks of lightning illuminating the twisting dark.
Alone.
Valeriya was alone. Nastanya abandoned her, and now she needed help.
Like an unwanted visitor, the image of Katya crept back in. Their first kiss was on the castle’s roof as a summer thunderstorm blew through Reyila. Katya was yelling at her, and Valeriya couldn’t pull her focus from her mouth, from how beautiful and fierce she was.
That first kiss was like lightning in her chest—feeling everything and nothing all at once. Katya was her rival, vying for a position Valeriya also wanted; yet, at that moment on the roof where Valeriya grabbed her face, kissing her with years of pent-up aggression and lust, the two became something more, something greater. Katya was her rock, anchoring her to the world. Without her, Valeriya remained stuck in her head. Alone.
Just message her. The rough edge of Katya’s voice would be enough to steady Valeriya, to keep her focused. Together, they could find a way out.
Valeriya imagined the short black hair hanging into the glowering face, the intensity of her turquoise eyes. She used to tuck the short strands behind the blunted arch of her half-elven ears. A notch marred her right one from an injury she would never share.
There were a thousand things that she wished to say. Every day she thought of Katya, wondered how she was, often wanting to tell her of her day, of the things that reminded Valeriyaof her. A crumpled flower, still beautiful and standing. The way shadows had danced across the cobblestones in the late afternoon sun. The quiet moments in the palace halls, like the ones she and Katya would seek for a moment of peace together.
More than anything, she wished to tell her those three words they never shared out loud. But Valeriya had felt them from Katya. It was in her mannerisms, the way she had concerned herself with Valeriya’s troubles. The way Katya had held open doors for her. Her words of confidence when Valeriya had felt discouraged. The never-ending teasing when Valeriya had become lost in her head. The words were there every morning they had laid in bed, fingers intertwined, with the morning sun creeping into the room. Those three words existed in every interaction—unspoken but always true.
Katya held Valeriya’s heart, the one that ached every day they were separated.
Just message her.
But what if she moved on? What if she knew her sister’s plans had changed? Could Valeriya truly handle that possibility? Likely, no.
In those last days together, when Valeriya left to marry Wyltam, they agreed a clean break would promise a better future for them both; yet there Valeriya was, seven years later, with tears spilling from her eyes on the balcony of her room.
A gust whipped her long, red curls around her as the storm approached. Thick and sticky air gave way to the coolness of the storm, heavy raindrops falling. They hid her tears.
Alone. Valeriya was drowning. The plan was the last thing she had, a goal to change Satiros and rule under a new era. A chance to be immortalized. That dream was ripped out from under her. For all the effort Valeriya put towards helping Satiros, there was a gnawing emptiness inside her chest, replacing thehope that once bloomed there. Everything had a price and the cost of being remembered was her very being.
Sheets of rain cascaded from the sky, soaking Valeriya within minutes, yet she stayed on the balcony, watching lightning dance across the sky. The thunder rattled her chest as she heaved a breath, gripping the railing with her hands.
She couldn’t stay.
Soon, she promised.
Katya would hear those three words from her soon.
Part Three
“But as always, you must wait to see the end of a person, and no one ought to be called blessed until he dies and his funeral is over.”
- Ovid, Metamorphoses
Chapter Seventy-Nine
Elyse
Funny how much can change in a week. The Chorys Dasians left, returning home after the incident with Az. Elyse didn’t ask about it.
