Page 248 of A Queen's Game
“I agree,” Wyltam said. “Which is why your first task as King’s Administrator is to help me dig through these documents, if you are well enough for it. Her trial is the day after tomorrow, and I’m running out of time.” He paused, swallowing hard. “Elyse, I need your help to save her. Please.”
“Anything I can help do, I’ll do. What is it we’re looking for?”
He pushed the papers toward her. Elyse sat forward, taking them in her hand and reading the first page. “Birth records?” she asked, glancing up at him.
“Proof,” he said, handing another pile to Wynn. “We’re looking for the last name Fulbryk.”
Chapter Ninety-Nine
Marietta
Marietta woke with a splitting headache. Light filtered in from above her, hurting her eyes, too bright for such pain. The room spun. Her stomach churned. What had happened?
She forced open her eyes to the small room, the white walls glaring. Glancing down at herself, she saw the familiar shift dress. She was back in the infirmary.
Why?
Marietta pushed herself up, crossing her legs as she cradled her aching head. There had been a ceremony—she was an Iros. Therypon was inked into her skin, giving Marietta her strength. Though dizzy, she focused on the energy under her skin. She found none. Did she lose it? No, she had used the goddess’ power. Why had she used it? She shook her head, frustrated as her thoughts felt thicker than honey.
A knock sounded at the door. “Yes?” she called, her voice hoarse.
The door cracked open, revealing Wyltam standing beyond. “Marietta, do you mind if I come in?”
She furrowed her brows at his question. “No?” Why would she mind?
The King took a seat across from her bed. Black marred beneath his eyes, his face ebbing with tiredness. Looking at him pulled her memory, yet she couldn’t remember why.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, crossing his leg over a knee.
“Confused, mostly.”
A brief smile flashed onto his face with a laugh. “Undoubtedly.”
Marietta frowned, staring into her lap. “I can’t think.”
“It’s the sedatives,” the King said, drawing her gaze. “Something I had argued against but lost.”
“Who’d you fight against?”
“My council.” He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You’re to go to trial for treason.”
Marietta nodded her head. “The temple is advocating on my behalf.”
“They already have,” he said, dropping his gaze. “It didn’t go well, considering the latest charge they’ve added to your trial.”
“Even after becoming an Iros?”
The King glanced at her neck. “The risk of offending the temples was offset by another threat.”
She shifted, dangling her legs over the edge of the bed as she stared at him. “You’re going to need to explain that.”
Wyltam began to speak, but stopped, his fists clenching. The reaction stilled her heart.
“You need to tell me what’s going on, Wyltam.” Despite having no reason to hold herself with such dignity while wearing an infirmary dress, she drew up what confidence she had.
“Do you remember the front steps?”
“Front steps?” Marietta focused on that thought. Dark eyes, his hair tousled into his face. “We were on the front steps. You held my face.”
