Page 207 of A Queen's Game
As much as she had liked Keyain, that diminished over the past week as well. Keyain tried again and again to get her to say what happened. From what Marietta shared, he threatened her, saying that if she knew and said nothing, that he’d throw her in the dungeons for treason.
Regardless of what happened between Marietta and the King, there was no reason for such threats. If Elyse wanted Keyain to know, then she would have told him.
The worst conversation was with the King. Compared to the shabbiness of her suite, Wyltam looked out of place on her tattered golden couch in his finery. If being alone with him in her suite wasn’t enough to make her anxious, then the topic of conversation was. Concerned about her lack of preparation, as he called it, he wanted to have a medic ensure she wasn’t with child. Through the heat of her face, she had explained to him she already started her cycle. Thank gods he didn’t react. Instead, he just moved on to the next topic.
After her father broke into her suite, the King assigned her a guard to stay with her. Wynn was apparently with them during their night in the city, but Elyse didn’t recognize him. In the haze of what was that day, he blended into the background. Little was she aware that Wynn was one of Wyltam’s mages, part of the group who would train her.
Wyltam also thought it was time for her to have a mentor watch over her as she practiced magic. Wynn made her conjure water, filling vessels up to predetermined lines to practice control. He would hold metal spoons, and Elyse would use magic to heat it enough to make it hot but not burn. It was one thing to transform aithyr; it was another to control it, to let it trickle out in the form of the magic one intended or desired to make. By the end of the week, Elyse impressed Wynn with her quick advancement, and he needed to reassess what to teach her next.
Marietta also came by every day, often with Amryth. The first time, Marietta baffled her by greeting Wynn by name. The male joined them at the tavern, which Elyse had missed.
Elyse found herself quiet most days. She laughed at Marietta’s jokes, at Amryth’s teasing. Wynn’s lessons engaged her, and she stayed focused on the task at hand; but during the moments in between, her mind went back to Az, to his last words.I love you, Elyse. Stupid, plaguing words that left her awake at night, that haunted her during the day. Despite wanting to yell at him, wanting to curse him for lying, she wanted to know who he was.
Sure, he was Azarys, the same ostentatious lord as Brynden, but did he lie? What else were they hiding? It wracked her brain, never ceasing, but she didn’t know where to start—until she found the paper Sylas had written her the day he stayed for dinner. He had asked her to locate the list of books in the library, but she never had the chance. She imprinted the titles into her brain, and she wished to go search in the library, but it scaredher to leave her suite, scared of what the courtiers and nobles would say to her.
Once the mark faded on her neck throughout the week, she finally had the nerve to ask Wynn to escort her to the library. He was an intimidating male, towering over most and moving with the grace of a dancer. The gnarled scar on his face helped, too. No one would dare speak to her if Wynn was around.
Elyse hesitated at the threshold of the room, not wanting to leave.
Wynn glanced back at her, offering an arm. “I’ve got you; no reason to be nervous.”
“I have every reason to be nervous.”
“That’s true if you’re a skittering goat,” he mused with a smirk.
“Funny.” She took his arm.
He smiled to himself, proud of the joke. Somehow it made him more intimidating.
The guard uniform and sword at his waist didn’t help. Everyone would stay clear of them as they ventured through the palace. No impromptu conversations, no invasive questions—Elyse could walk in peace. Plus, her outfit would draw some attention. After a week of just pants and blouses, Elyse couldn’t get herself to change into a gown. Instead, she donned a black silk shirt that buttoned up the front, tucked into a pair of high-waisted tight pants. The only color came from her green embroidered slippers, the ones Marietta complimented a few weeks back.
Elyse hoped the all-black ensemble was as intimidating as her escort, that it acted as a uniform for the King. Let the court see who she worked for and then no one would bother her again.
She tensed as they passed a group of gossiping courtiers in the halls, their hushed whispers incoherent in the echoing foyer.
Wynn leaned over. “They’re talking about your outfit.”
“Why would you say that?” she said, fidgeting with the cuffs of her sleeves and hurrying their pace.
“No, I can hear them. They said your outfit is fierce, like you’re a real noble. I think they mean as a noble who’d run their own estate, like a male.”
“Great, I look like a male. How can you hear that?”
Wynn laughed. “You do not look like a male, but you hold yourself like a person with power. I think it’s a compliment.”
“Sure.”
“So self-conscious,” he teased. “I’ll have to teach you how to use aithyr to amplify the senses.”
“That’s a thing?”
“You have so much to learn.”
That was the truth. Every day, Elyse felt as if she learned something new, uncovered another secret. For all the bad, Elyse was happy the last few months occurred. Without her father and her pending marriage to Keyain or Brynden, Elyse felt like she had control. Though it was limited control under Wyltam, it was more than she had ever had; so, she walked with her head high, her shoulders back, and prayed to whatever god or goddess listened that Wynn was right about the courtiers’ whispers. She wasn’t soft, nor was she weak.
Each day, Elyse proved her strength to herself. To not give up, to not give in. Time would come for when she could look in the mirror and be proud. One day, she would love herself.
Chapter Eighty
