Page 95 of A Queen's Game
The fact he hid it still angered her, but at least he didn’t lie. In that way, he treated her better than Tilan.
Keyain’s eyes fluttered open, still heavy with sleep as his body grew taut with a stretch. Her hand cupped his face, Keyain turning to kiss her palm. “Good morning,” he said, voice rough with sleep.
“Good morning.” She dragged her hand through his sleep-mussed hair, smoothing the brown strands.
It was then she decided that she’d ask him one last time for the temple. After his words of love, his confession clearing some tension between them, there was a chance Keyain would understand. “I know that you love me,” she admitted, andKeyain took her hand in his own. “And I know you would protect me against anything, but you aren’t listening, Keyain.”
His thumb brushed across her knuckles, his smile faltering. “I always listen to you.”
She sighed, closing her eyes. “You listen, but you don’t understand. So, please, truly try to hear what I’m saying.” She opened her eyes, meeting Keyain’s gaze. “You can’t decide everything for me. If I say I need something, then you should help me get it, not choose if it’s a need or not.”
“But you don’t understand Satiros or how this court works,” he whispered. “You don’t realize what it’s like.”
“How will I ever learn if I’m locked in here, isolated from everything?” she said, pulling her hand from his grasp, but he gripped tighter. “By keeping me confined, you choose what to tell me, only sharing information that is convenient for you. Like the law that allows anyone to visit the temples. The King told me.”
“Yes, that law allows anyone, under any circumstances, to visit the temples, but it doesn’t protect you from being attacked.” Each word came faster than the last. “If I lost you, if you ended up like those other pilinos—” His voice cracked as panic set in his eyes.
“Then it’s your job to help get me there safely, not lie to me and forbid me from going.”
“It’s not that simple.”
“What isn’t simple, Keyain?” She sat up, staring at Keyain with a grimace.
He ground his jaw, rolling onto his back, and his eyes searched the bed’s canopy. “These attacks started the week of the ball—after your first very public appearance.” He swallowed hard, averting his eyes. “There are rumors that your presence inspired the foulest of the elven population to… to take action.”
Marietta felt gutted. As if everything up until then wasn’t awful enough, the guilt of those missing people tore into her chest. She blinked, stammering, at a loss for words as tears fell.
Keyain sat up, wrapping her into his embrace. Marietta didn’t fight it. Instead, she rested her head on his bare chest as he smoothed back her hair. “I know,” he said, his voice tight. “This is why I didn’t want to say anything—why I don’t want you in the public eye.”
“But it isn’t my fault, is it?” she asked, turning her face to Keyain.
He brushed back a lock that broke loose from the silk scarf covering her hair, his lips tugging into a deeper frown. “No, don’t go down that line of thinking, Mar.”
“But it is—”
“No,” he said, his eyes burning. “You are not responsible for their deaths; you have every right to be here as my wife, as a lady of the court.”
“But only elves serve on the court.”
“Not anymore,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Your anger towards me for marrying you in secret is completely justified, but so is your presence at court. You are my wife, a half-elf, and you are a lady of Satiros. If the extremist used your existence as an excuse for vile deeds, then the blame is on them.” He cupped her face, his mouth set to a tight line. “You have done nothing wrong. Your existence and your presence are not wrong.”
Marietta’s lips trembled. “I don’t belong here, Keyain, and you know it. That’s why you keep me locked away.”
He shook his head, nostrils flaring. “No, I keep you away from the Queen and King, from prying questions and eager eyes. You belong here, just as any wife of a lord.”
Keyain took a long breath, his eyes searching the room. “Tonight,” he whispered, “I’ll get you out for a walk. It’ll beshort, but we can make them longer as the court adjusts to your presence.”
“You don’t have time for that, do you?” she asked, her voice bitter.
“I’ll make time,” he said, kissing her forehead. “I promise.”
Keyain left for the day, leaving Marietta alone once more. His promise meant nothing—not until it happened. Marietta knew not to get her hopes up as she readied herself for the day, as she absently flipped through the book, occasionally gazing out to the garden beyond.
And she knew that when she sat at the dining room table, waiting for Keyain to return for dinner, that it still didn’t mean the walk would happen. He was busy, a minister overseeing an active war. Yet it didn’t stop her disappointment when the meal arrived without Keyain, when the sun had set, and the sky grew dark. She readied herself and got into bed, alone.
In the morning, he gave her his apology when the room was gray with the first morning light, promising to take her on a walk that evening. But Marietta didn’t see him again until the following morning, offering more apologies and more promises.
After a week of neglected promises, she steeled herself. No longer would she wait. If Marietta needed help, she’d have to rely on herself to get it. A week to the day of Keyain’s first promise, Marietta sent a note to Amryth.
