Page 238 of A Queen's Game
An ominous warning, as if hearing someone’s voice in your head wasn’t unsettling enough. To be woken by it startled her so much she couldn’t go back to sleep. That was hours ago.
Elyse sat with a mug of tea at her desk, fighting off her late afternoon sleepiness as she readFulbryk’s Guide to Chorys Dasi, trying not to think of Azarys—she failed miserably.
Fulbryk described how Chorys Dasi sat on the shores of the Bay of Black in The Mavros Sea, its waters an unsurprising black, but what was surprising was the sand was as well. Pirates populated the waters of the region, excelling at breaking the ice in the winter and plundering cargo transported between Chorys Dasi and Reyila.
Elyse imagined the dark sand beneath her feet, of Azarys at her arm, the salty breeze blowing through her hair.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Such fantasies were unnecessary. Az lied, and she never learned of his reasoning.
Blank pages filled the center of the book, flanked on either side by chapters. The first half covered geography; the second discussed their histories. One chapter dug into the fabled Bull of the North, who slaughtered more pirates than any other military member.
She shook the thought from her head, pondering over the blank pages. Elyse inspected them again, eyes scanning as she held them up to the light. And then she saw it. Tucked into the binding’s inner crease in tight scrawling letters were the words, “Histories sealed by blood, the secrets our kind keep.”
The words reminded Elyse of her mother’s song, the one that Az and Sylas knew. Fulbryk didn’t mean actual blood, did he? The blood from her elven heritage?
No, that’s absurd. Magic didn’t work that way.
Yet Elyse also learned something new about its possibilities every day. If she could use magic to enhance her senses, as Wynn suggested, then how likely was it that blood could also be magical?
With anticipation growing in her chest, she ran to her room, pulling a needle from her sewing kit. As she sat back down at her desk, Elyse pricked her finger and watched the blood fall to the page.
Nothing.
A stupid attempt, but at least—
The page absorbed the blood, spreading it across in bright red lettering. Breathless, she flipped through the pages that now contained odd portraits and names and titles. Her heart ceased when she reached the last page. No—no, no, no. This was wrong.
She found his picture first. His nose was straighter, his cheekbones sharper, but she knew it was him, even with two large horns protruding from his temples, circling the shaved parts of his hairline. Underneath was scrawled, “Azarys Vynz, Prince of Chorys Dasi, Twin Brother to the Queen, Beastial Domain.”
Elyse blinked, touching the page to make sure what she saw was real. Flanking the portrait were two more of the same size. A female with an uncanny face to Az held a smirk, horns rising straight up from her forehead. “Agnyssa Vynz, Queen of Chorys Dasi, Beastial Domain.”
The farthest right was a male, similar to the other two, but with a smaller nose, a delicate chin. Horns circled his head like Azarys’s. “Auryon Vynz, Prince of Chorys Dasi, Younger Brother to the Queen, Beastial Domain.”
Below were more sketches, smaller and less detailed, showing sharp-cheeked elves with tails, cat ears, feathered wings—beast-like features of all kinds.
Elyse couldn’t breathe, couldn’t register what she saw. Az was…. Her legs wobbled as she rose, unsure what to do, who to tell. Wynn said to stay in the room, but that book—
The door to Elyse’s suite slammed open. She pressed herself against her back wall, gripping at aithyr for defense, letting it fill her. Upon hearing their voices, she collapsed to her knees.
“You’re wasting your time.” Oh, gods, was that her father?
“Elyse is never a waste of time, Gyrsh.” Her heart stopped—that was Az. And he was… Elyse’s stomach lurched as she searched the room for a spot to hide.
“Stay focused. The goal is to grab Elyse and get out of the palace.” Gods, no. Sylas, too?
They were in her suite; they were there to take her. After Wynn’s warning that morning, oh, gods—
Elyse took a calming breath, forcing her mind to calm. She saw the wooden case Sylas had given her. Scrambling forward, she fumbled with the latches. With trembling hands, she grabbed the amber-colored liquid of Mage’s Eye and yanked out the cork stopper, taking a swig. The drug took effect, streams of translucent white materializing as they swirled around her body. Calmness washed over her as she pulled in the nearest tendril, the aithyr seemingly eager to enter her body.
Elyse imagined herself as the wall, as the floor. She wanted to become her surroundings—they couldn’t find her. When she looked down at herself, she became exactly that. Her body was invisible, the magic coating her in a thin, comforting layer of cold.
“We should focus on rescuing Valeriya,” her father snapped.
The Queen? She missed something with Wynn’s warning.
She heard rustling in the other room. “I’ll check her bedroom,” Sylas said, his voice fading.
“For the last time, Valeriya’s a lost cause. They have her down in the dungeon, questioning her as we speak.” Azarys walked into the study and her heart stopped at the sight of him.I love you, Elyse.
