Page 23 of A Queen's Game
Her companion guided her across the floor. Marietta twirled and spun, causing her to giggle, the swish of cloth tickling against her skin. Her body was light as if she were also a cloud.
That night should never end. The euphoric happiness gave her a moment of not feeling the pain of loss. She enjoyed thinking of Tilan and her friends without her grief threatening to swallow her whole. She could spin in this idyll forever.
Chapter Fourteen
Valeriya
“Look at her,” Valeriya murmured to Wyltam. They sat on the dais watching Keyain and his wife dance on the ballroom floor. “She isn’t a halfwit, just drugged. Keyain put her on Choke.”
“Mm.” Wyltam watched his best friend as he spun Marietta, his expression unreadable.
A wide grin and glossy eyes were plastered on her face, unaware of the surrounding room—both telltale signs of the drug Choke. For the first time in months, Keyain’s shoulders and jaw relaxed. The love he carried for Marietta became obvious. Did he take the half-elf for more than just a war? Selfish needs, maybe? Jealous of the human who occupied her life? But why would Keyain bring Marietta to Satiros and let the court believe she was simple-minded? Why give her Choke?
Wyltam leaned over. “He’s hiding something. Between her injuries and Choke, there’s something he’s failing to tell me. See if you can find out what it is.” The deep baritone of his voice cut through the music.
“Giving me a task, are you?” Valeriya bristled. “I agree. Keyain wants everyone to think Marietta is witless. I’ll see whatI can find.” At least if Wyltam believed she was poking into Marietta’s past for his benefit, he would have fewer questions.
The information Valeriya gained from her meeting proved that Marietta wasn’t held hostage. A prisoner wouldn’t own a business. No, Marietta lived in Olkia on her own accord, but Keyain’s marriage documentation was legitimate. Which led her to believe that Keyain drugged Marietta because if she were sober, she would share the truth. He needed her incapacitated and the court to think she was witless so she couldn’t reveal his lies. How convenient. No one in Satiros would question the half-elf’s compromised mental state.
“You should invite her to tea tomorrow,” Wyltam said, leaning back. An arm propped up his head as he crossed one leg over the other. His casual posture caused Valeriya to sit up straighter, holding back a sneer from her face. His kingly appearance never lasted long.
“Keyain will know it’s a demand, not an ask,” she responded, smiling and nodding at one of the ladies who danced past them.
“Mm,” he answered.
A male of many words, her husband.
Valeriya rose, smoothing her dress. “I know you hate it, but we must dance at least once.”
With a sigh, he stood and offered a hand. Wyltam led her to the dance floor as the nobles and courtesans stepped out of their way. Though he despised dancing, he wasn’t poor at it. His movements were exact and lacked emotion, just like the rest of his personality. The tips of his fingers grazed her, hovering above her body. Good, she didn’t like when he touched her, anyway. They both found the other repulsive. After having their son Mycaub, their already-strained relationship became near unbearable. Most of their conversations involved some level of bickering—and that was when they could stand to be around one another.
The song ended, and Wyltam stepped away before heading to the edge of the ballroom floor. Minister Gyrsh approached with his dark honey hair tumbling forward as he bowed. “May I have the next dance with my beautiful queen?”
Valeriya smiled. “Of course, Gyrsh.” When her sister, Queen Nystanya, searched for allies in Satiros, Gyrsh was one of the few she could find, and that was through her husband, Auryon. As Minister of Foreign Affairs, he fostered a close relationship with Chorys Dasi, King Auryon’s home city-state. Fortunately for Valeriya, the minister was enamored with the idea of having an affair with her. Which worked to her advantage, for the false encouragement on her part made him compliant with whatever she needed.
Gyrsh palmed her hips, his honeyed eyes amused. She flashed him a practiced smile as she tracked Wyltam’s movements. Warmth radiated through her body as he approached Marietta and asked her to dance. Valeriya let Gyrsh take the lead as she kept her eyes on the entertaining situation. Wyltam held the half-elf close to him, his lips moving—a pointless endeavor to talk to her while she was on Choke, but it left an impact. Across the room, Keyain stood with a clenched jaw and narrowed glare.
So the game continued between them with light jabs, underhand comments, and now giving Marietta his attention. Keyain was a fool if he thought he could bring her to Satiros, and Wyltam would ignore her. Didn’t Keyain remember how he treated Gyrsh’s own daughter?
“You’re always a pleasure to dance with, Queen Valeriya,” Gyrsh whispered into her ear.
“We should do it more often,” she teased, knowing it would never happen. However, Gyrsh need not know that. The minister was more likely to help her if he thought he carried Valeriya’s favor.
“I’m sure we will find the time soon.” He smirked, glancing over his shoulder at a group of males. “The emissaries seem to be enjoying themselves.”
Valeriya noted the group but paid them little mind. The less attention she gave them, the better. “That’s good to hear. I hope you show them all that Satiros has to offer.”
The song ended, Gyrsh bowing his goodbye. Valeriya smiled, then parted for the other end of the ballroom floor, watching as Wyltam continued to hold Marietta. Curious, he inspected her with a slight furrow to his brows, the only sign of an expression.
Keyain’s eyes remained on the two as she approached. “Come dance with me,” Valeriya demanded, extending her hand to him.
He was close to saying no, likely wanting to supervise Marietta. But also because he didn’t trust Valeriya—for good reasons.
“Of course, my Queen,” he answered with a bow and took her hand. Keyain held her like Wyltam, his fingers grazing while his jaw remained ground shut. A smirk tugged at her lips; he was so prickly.
“Your wife sure likes to smile, Keyain,” Valeriya teased, trying to keep her smirk in check. This fresh wound of his would be an entertaining means to inflict pain. “Especially when dancing with Wyltam. Just look at her,” she added, glancing over her shoulder at them.
The muscle in his jaw flexed. Marietta was a convenient way to stoke the anger that burned in him. Oh, how fun for her.
