Page 81 of A Queen's Game
“Get away from me!” She scurried back, away from his outstretched hand. “If this is how you act when you drink, then I need to reconsider my future.”
“Goddess, you're bleeding. Let me help you.”
At the raise of his hand, Elyse flinched. The reaction was involuntary, one her body knew to do, and it caused a flash of grief in Brynden’s expression.
The stark reality hit her. Elyse didn’t know him, didn’t know how he acted when drunk or how often he drank. Foolish. She would jump from one bad situation to another. She shook her head as tears began to fall. “You should leave.”
“Sylas is waiting for us,” Brynden said, holding out his hand.
She stared at it, shaking her head. “He’s waiting for you.”
“No, don’t act like that.” He laughed, the sound weak as his expression changed from worry to fear. “I promise I didn’t mean anything by it, goddess.”
Elyse swallowed hard, mustering up a glare as she stared at his face. “You need to leave. Now.”
“That would be a wise decision.” A deep voice came from the doorway. King Wyltam walked slowly into the room, hands clasped behind his back. “Elyse, perhaps I wasn’t clear.”
Her limbs numbed at his appearance, the sudden fear of losing magic, the last thing that gave her hope. “He wouldn’t listen to me. I tried to get him to leave.”
King Wyltam’s stare landed on her arms, to where blood seeped from the glass digging into her flesh.
“It’s alright. We were about to leave.” Brynden tossed a glance over his shoulder as he reached for Elyse. She pulled her arm out of his grasp.
In a few quick strides, King Wyltam loomed over Brynden’s shoulder. He grabbed him, jerking him back with a force she hadn’t anticipated. “Who the fuck are you?”
Brynden scrambled from the grip, fighting to push back but fell short as they reached the door. King Wyltam raised his hand and a blast of wind struck Brynden, sending him flying into the library beyond the doorway.
“King Wyltam!” Elyse pushed herself up, breath caught in her chest. Brynden groaned as he picked himself up. A menacing glare held his expression.
“Who is he, Elyse?” the King asked. “What is he doing here?”
“Brynden Vazlyte of Chorys Dasi, my betrothed,” she said, her voice small as she approached on unsteady legs. “Or was my betrothed.” Brynden’s face fell at her words.
“And Brynden, a foreigner, is in my personal office because you invited him?” the King continued.
Elyse took a steadying breath as her heart raced. “Of course not. I was collecting my things when he came in.”
“I came to escort Elyse,” Brynden said, eyes locked on her.
“Escort her?” King Wyltam inspected Brynden from head to toe, his eyes narrowing. “Explain to me,Bryndenfrom Chorys Dasi, why I find you in my personal study with my noblewoman wounded?”
“You’re studying magic for King Wyltam?” Brynden shook his head. “Elyse, we should go—”
The King held out his arm in front of Elyse, as if she would walk to him. No, the male that she thought she’d marry was someone different.
“You come to my court, break into my office, and damaged not only my property, but also hurt Elyse.” The King paused, glancing at her. “She claims you were betrothed, which is news to me.”
“That’s because Gyrsh and I just settled it.”
Gods, how much did he drink? Brynden swayed where he stood.
“Good, I just sent a message to Gyrsh. He’ll be here in a moment, and so will Keyain. They’ll love to hear your reasons.” The King placed his hands in his pocket, his expression unreadable even as he threatened Brynden.
Panicked, a chill washed over her body. Not her father, not when she was so close to being free of him. “King Wyltam, please,” Elyse pleaded. “It was an accident with an object on the shelf. I dropped it, then slipped in the glass.”
“Elyse?” Keyain’s voice called out, his heavy footfalls sounding. “You’re bleeding. What happened?” In a crumpled tunic covered by a jacket, Keyain appeared and halted as Brynden came into view, his gaze turning feral. “You. What did you do?”
“Keyain, it was my fault please—”
