Page 85 of A Queen's Game
“Come, join me for dinner. You need to eat more.” He stood, his hand running through her hair. Keyain waited a moment, leaving when she never answered.
The afternoon sunshine fell onto Marietta as she stared out the window, watching a gentle wind blow through the greenery of the Central Garden. As late spring gave way to early summer, courtiers wandered through the paths, enjoying the season’s kind weather.
That time of year usually excited Marietta. When the cold of winter was far behind, and the promise of the endless sun for the months ahead energized her spirit. But she felt nothing.
Last spring, her bakery was busy with wedding celebrations. In Enomenos, sunny weather was a good wedding day omen, meaning most couples waited until the start of summer to wed. Marietta would bake cakes, pies, and other treats for the revelrythat followed ceremonies, often staying late to celebrate because she was never just the baker. She was always a guest, too.
Stress left Tilan on edge, and Marietta thought it was from her busier-than-usual schedule and his work. To help, she baked his favorite treat, tart lemon bars with a vanilla crust. The apology brought a smile to his face, and he said she had done nothing wrong. Tilan assured her that he loved her more than anything and considered himself the luckiest man to have such a thoughtful wife.
That was a lie. Work didn’t bring him stress—at least not smithing. His work with the Exisotis would have increased with the impending war. In hindsight, Marietta could clearly see all the signs. Stressed plagued him not because she was busy and going out every night but because he knew the threat of Keyain was looming. As tensions grew with Satiros, the possibility of him making a move grew more and more likely; yet Tilan never told Marietta. He had let her believe all was right with the world. Why did he lie to her? Why did he have to lie?
“Gods, Marietta,” someone hissed behind her. Amryth appeared at her side, a hand falling to her shoulder. “Keyain said you were sick, not that you were wasting away. You haven’t been eating, have you?”
When she didn’t answer, Amryth knelt next to her. “When’s the last time you bathed?”
Marietta continued to stare out the window, wishing Amryth would leave. Since her secret was out, Amryth wore the leather armor of the guards. She had her box braids pulled back into a tail. Marietta sighed when Amryth pulled her out of her seat, leading her to the bathroom. When she helped Marietta out of her nightgown and into the tub, she didn’t protest. The sooner she let it happen, the sooner she’d leave.
“Now I know something is wrong,” she murmured. “Lady independence who doesn’t need help with anything is letting me do something for her.”
Marietta let out a sharp breath, irritation from the comment lingering. If she came to mock her, then she could leave.
Amryth laughed as she tilted Marietta’s hair back into the water. “You can continue not speaking, but I know that resentful sigh.”
She cut her a glare but didn’t give her the satisfaction of responding.
“This is the longest I’ve heard you stay silent,” she said after a moment, working oils through Marietta’s curls. “Perhaps if I look outside, I’ll see pigs flying.”
Marietta’s grip on the side of the tub tightened.
“Or maybe all the flowers in the Central Garden are dead. A pilinos serves as Queen of Satiros—”
Marietta jerked away, her anger winning against the dulled senses that plagued her. “Why are you here?” she snapped, turning to Amryth.
“There she is,” Amryth said, offering a smile. “The Marietta I’ve come to know wouldn’t mope and remain silent. Whatever happened between you and Keyain must have been dreadful.” She turned Marietta’s head forward, then dipped her head back to rinse. “I came to apologize.”
Marietta scoffed, her gaze finding Amryth. “I should be sorry. Your wife died because of me.”
“She died because of Keyain,” she said, running her hand through Marietta’s hair. “Because he lied to us about you.”
Marietta shifted out of her grasp, turning to face her. “But I held the knife; I stabbed someone with it, and I don’t know if they lived.”
Amryth’s hands dropped, her brows furrowing. After a moment, she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “ThoughI don’t know if you truly had done it, I forgive you. You were defending yourself, something I’d also do in your position.”
“But she was your wife! How are you not upset?”
With a sad smile, Amryth shook her head. “I’m devastated. Each day I wake up and am forced to remember that she’s gone.” She paused, taking a breath. “I’ve been seeking help at the temple of Therypon—the goddess of healing and pain. A friend took me to her after it all happened.”
Marietta shook her head, tears falling. “But that doesn’t absolve me—”
“Stop, please. I’ve made my peace through Therypon’s help.” She handed Marietta a bar of soap with a washcloth, her eyes cast upwards. “I’m still mourning, of course, but it doesn’t feel like I’m…” Her voice trailed off, eyes searching for the right word.
“Suffocating?”
“Yes,” she said, looking back at Marietta. “The grief is no longer suffocating, which I guess you’ve also been experiencing.”
Marietta hugged her legs, setting her head on her knees. “I don’t know what happens next. Whatever life Keyain planned, I don’t want to live it. I’d rather be….” Her voice trailed off as emotion choked her.
Amryth hushed her, a hand rubbing across her back. “There’s always a way forward. If you’re feeling up to it, I can take you to Therypon’s temple. She isn’t a fix-all solution, but that suffocating feeling? It’ll ease, I promise.”
