Page 24 of A Queen's Game
“I’m glad she’s well enough to come to celebrate Satiros’ victory,” Valeriya added. “She must join my ladies and me for tea tomorrow.”
“I’m afraid she won’t—”
“It’s not an ask, Minister Keyain,” she used his formal title for emphasis. “It’s a demand.”
He swallowed hard. “Yes, my Queen,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Unless you’d prefer her to be a social outcast. You’ve kept her from us all these weeks. Why would you keep her from us for more?” Her voice was like honey, and Keyain heard through it. “Are you planning on moving her from Satiros?”
Hate radiated from his body, his limbs locked and rigid. It was almost too easy for Valeriya to get under his skin. Marietta would be a more significant piece to play than she expected by his quick reaction.
His lack of response was enough of an answer. That was valuable information Valeriya could hand to Wyltam.
The song ended, and Keyain dropped his hands, turning to find his wife. From that position, she watched as Wyltam whispered something to Marietta. Keyain interrupted, bowed to Wyltam, and grabbed Marietta from the ballroom floor.
Valeriya held much disdain for her husband, but at that moment, watching Keyain’s anger roll off him in the middle of a ball, she couldn’t help but appreciate his schemes. That’s how they matched one another, in schemes and schemes alone.
One last task remained for the evening—the half-elf needed to be sober for tea tomorrow. The court should see who she truly was without Keyain’s suppression. Plus, Marietta could share her truth with Valeriya. Why did Keyain risk his career to capture Marietta, who hadn’t wanted to leave Olkia?
Outside the main room, she sent a servant for charcoal and paper. She wrote a short note, folding it into a small square. Searching the room, she found Keyain talking to one of his commanders. At his side, Marietta appeared dazed.
She approached. “Lady Marietta, a pleasure to meet you, my dear.” Valeriya leaned in to place a kiss on her cheek, her hand brushing by the pocket of her dress.
Keyain stopped talking mid-sentence, watching with wide eyes as Valeriya neared. Marietta didn’t react. Her hands rubbed over the fabric of her dress.
“Is she feeling alright, Keyain?” With knitted brows and pursed lips, she feigned ignorance to Marietta’s drugged state.
“Perhaps she isn’t,” he ground out. “I’ll take her back soon. I’m sure the evening was quite overwhelming for her.”
“It’s funny. The way you speak for her, instead of letting her speak for herself.” Valeriya’s voice dropped momentarily so only he could hear. “But I’ll let you finish making rounds. I look forward to tea with you tomorrow, Marietta.”
It amused her how easily she could rile Keyain, how clever he thought he was. As a trained warrior knowledgeable in war strategy and planning, she expected him to be better at political games. Usually stoic, his moods were often hard to read; yet with Marietta, he became a book that she eagerly consumed.
Yes, the half-elf would be the exact piece she needed, and her plan to use her was already in motion. Tomorrow, the court would meet the real Marietta.
Chapter Fifteen
Elyse
Alcohol swirled in Elyse’s cup, the red liquid her crutch for the evening. At her arm was Lord Brynden Vazlyte, an emissary from Chorys Dasi, who was in Satiros to work with her father.
Convenient he came the week of the victory ball. More convenient her father could parade Elyse on such a prominent person’s arm. It was unnerving how easily he could pass her from one male to the next. Though, why should she complain? Brynden was alluring. Even without looking at him, she was aware of his confident disposition.
On an average day, anxious thoughts would pollute Elyse’s mind. Brynden would be too attractive, too important, too… uninterested in her. Yet as alcohol coursed through her blood, those thoughts quieted. Left was just Elyse, the insignificant daughter of a minister.
The black silky fabric of her dress hugged her willowy frame with a square neckline that pushed up her chest. Little was left to imagination—just the way her father preferred her to dress on such occasions.Tease and tempt, but never giveher father had reminded her before they departed from the suite earlier that evening.
That was her usual—or was before Keyain. The words were easy to follow, her father’s friends being five times her age, if not more. They were always drunk with the possibility of such a youngcreature.Brynden was different. For one, he was age-appropriate.
“How fortunate that you don’t want to dance,” he murmured in her ear. “I was afraid we’d waste the whole evening on the ballroom floor.”
The low tone of his pleasant voice caused Elyse to turn toward his slim and structured face. His nose had a slight hook from his days as a commander in the Chorys Dasian army. Golden hues from the light globes floating above warmed his pale olive skin. “Fortunate, indeed,” she said, eyes lingering on him. “Though I would dance with you if you requested it.”
He chuckled, his mouth tilting up on one side. “Your father bragged that you were obedient. I didn’t realize he was being so literal.”
Elyse glanced at her father across the Grand Ballroom, surrounded by the other visiting Chorys Dasians. Though chatting, he glared at her and nodded to the other couples dancing. The usual dread that would pool in her stomach silenced as she offered the slightest shake in her head.No, he doesn’t want that.He scowled and turned back to his conversation.
“Obedience is all I know,” she replied, eyes turning to the emissary with a warm smile. His straight black hair was long through the middle and shorn close to his head on the sides, tied back in a knot. Peculiar. He wasn’t anything like her father’s other friends.
