Page 50 of A Queen's Game
“Are you sure? Because it sure seems like you’re not okay.” Brynden stepped onto the stair below, stopping to face Elyse. A playful smile tugged at his lips, ones that she wished she could kiss again. The light from the window cast him in the late morning light, his olive skin glowing almost as much as his russet eyes. With lips parted, Elyse stared at him, her voice dying in her throat.
“Oh, Elyse!” called an elven lady standing in one of the doorways. Elyse shut her eyes with a sigh, knowing the source of the voice. Golden hair twisted into braids on top of the lady’s head, her curved body swathed in a rose-colored gown as she gestured to the two on the stairs. Lydia Rynts, a former friend of Elyse, stood in a doorway calling to her. As always, she looked breathtakingly beautiful.
Elyse wished to walk past with just a nod of the head, her usual greetings for anyone outside the Queen’s inner circle, but Brynden took her arm once more and steered her towards the elven lady. She should have said something, should have stopped him, but she didn’t.
“It has been far too long since you’ve spent time with us,” Lydia said with an amused smile as they approached. Behind Lydia, nobles and courtesans lounged on couches, watching the commotion at the door. They were all stationed below Elyse, either the child of nobles or holding a small position themselves. Elyse knew their names but offered no recognition. That wasn’t new, however. She spent much of the past decade dodging them.
Lydia was almost as bad as Grytaine—almost. They grew up together in the palace, their families often being at court for the same months. Elyse made the conscious choice to avoid Lydia long before her betrothal to Keyain, their friendship coming to a sudden stop after… certain events transpired.
“Lydia, it has been,” Elyse responded, her body stiff and her lips pulled into a tight smile.
Lydia looked her over, and Elyse painfully remembered how unkempt she appeared. The elven lady’s gaze lingered on the bump on her forehead before turning to Brynden. “And who might your handsome friend be?” She offered a hand to Brynden, looking up at him through her lashes.
Of course, Lydia would find him attractive. Who wouldn’t? Brynden looked regal with his air of confidence butapproachable with an amiable smile. It was as if he were meeting an old friend instead of a stranger. With a shift of his arm, his hand found her lower back. Elyse couldn’t help but admire how easy it was for him to socialize as her hand trembled from the interaction. Perhaps Brynden would be happier with someone like Lydia.
He took her hand, his other never leaving Elyse. The slight gesture sent Elyse’s stomach swirling, unsure if it was from excitement or guilt. “Lord Bynden Vazlyte, Emissary to Chorys Dasi. It’s lovely to meet you.”
From the looks of it, Lydia fell for his low, pleasant voice just as she did. “Lord Brynden, how lovely to meet you. I’m Lady Lydia Rynts. Perchance you’ve worked with my father, Lord Byron Rynts? He works with Minister Gyrsh.” He did, though she failed to mention that he worked very much below Elyse’s father.
“Unfortunately, no, I haven’t. For the past few years, I have only worked with Gyrsh. To think it took this long to meet his remarkable daughter.” Elyse tried not to stiffen more as Brynden leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her temple. Whispers carried from the room beyond the doorway, sending heat across her cheeks.
“Oh, you two are courting! How exciting,” Lydia said with a forced smile. “Funny, it hasn’t been that long since you were still with Keyain.” A glance at Brynden revealed Lydia didn’t think he knew. Of course, he knew—Lydia just wanted to humiliate Elyse.
“It’s unfortunate Minister Keyain wasted so much of her time,” Brynden spoke up when he realized Elyse would remain silent. “I could’ve been courting her sooner, and then we would be already married.”
Elyse’s heart stopped as she gazed up at Brynden wide-eyed. Did he say married?
Lydia offered an awkward laugh. “Ah yes, if only.” She turned to Elyse. “Oh, I have always loved that color on you, by the way. And I love that you’re bold not only to wear dark reds in spring but also that deep neckline. Who knew courting these days meant showing so much of your body?” The smile on her face was anything but pleasant.
Anger shot to the tip of Elyse’s tongue. “I love that you’re bold enough to make those comments in front of Brynden. Jealousy is a poor look on anyone.”
Lydia raised her brows at the comment, her mouth hanging open, though she said nothing.
Why must she be like this in front of Brynden? Why can’t she hold her tongue? She was so hopelessly stupid. With dread pooling in her gut, Elyse didn’t offer a goodbye as she stepped out of Brynden’s arm and sped to the courtyard doors. She couldn’t do this, not today. Maybe not ever.
Brynden’s voice carried through the foyer. “Funny that you comment about Elyse wearing red as if it isn’t the color of Chorys Dasi. If you—” The door swung shut, muffling his response.
The late morning heat was warmer than expected, offering little help as she tried to suck in air to her chest. Elyse kept her head down as she crossed the courtyard and stepped onto the cobblestone path of the Central Garden. Nobles and courtesans gawked at her from the benches surrounding a nearby fountain. “Elyse?” Brynden’s voice carried from the doors.
It was so stupid. Elyse knew she should stop and let Brynden catch up, but the thought of him looking at her after Lydia’s comment made her stomach churn. Because she woke up late, she didn’t realize how revealing the dress was. A sheen of sweat covered her, unsure if it was from the running or her nerves. It was too much—he was too much. Too good.
Elyse rushed down the path of the Central Garden and crossed a bridge that a creek meandered underneath. What afool she was to think she had a chance with him, regardless of his marriage comment—an attempt to be kind for her sake in front of Lydia. Brynden was confident, well-spoken, and held an important position. Gods, he had used Elyse the same way her father did, to sweeten whatever deal was between them.
“Elyse, please wait,” Bryden called again, still back in the courtyard as she wove her way deeper into the garden.
Panicked, Elyse stepped off the path and into a flower bed, crossing a gap between a row of lilac bushes, and hid behind the row of foliage. A small meadow of white daisies appeared with a feline statue in the middle with a feathered tail fanned out behind it. A creek drifted at the edge of the clearing, passing under the bridge she crossed.
Elyse sat down behind the lilac bushes with her head bent to rest on her knees as she tried to catch her breath. Her father was right. Brynden was too good for her. His interest in Elyse was only sexual. It had to be—why else would he pursue her?
All she offered was a lifetime of pain, just like what her mother gave her father. No one wanted a life like that, and no one would want a life with her. The similarity between Elyse and her mother had never been more apparent. The realization made her inhales sharp, unable to breathe.
Tears fell as Elyse acknowledged that she would never be a mage either, for she would never control her emotions. This gods damned palace was her prison, and she would always be alone here with her father.
“There you are.”
She jumped, not having heard Brynden approach through the bushes. She looked up at him with tear-filled eyes. Shame blossomed from her center. “How did you find me?”
Brynden shrugged. “I just knew.” He crossed the space between them, crouching next to Elyse. Instead of the anger she expected, Brynden only looked concerned. “You’re having quitethe bad day, aren’t you?” he asked with a crooked smile that crinkled his eyes, causing her heart to skip a beat.
