Page 84 of A Queen's Game
“You and Marietta have that in common,” he said, wiping his face with his hands, sitting back. Guilt flooded in her chest, not knowing of his marriage problems. “Would all of this help if you didn’t have to live with Gyrsh? If you didn’t have to interact with him?”
Could she keep going if he wasn’t in the picture? Elyse tore at a hangnail, the skin stinging. “What would that look like?”
“Tomorrow, King Wyltam will submit the paperwork to Minister Dyieter about you emancipating from your father. You would move to your own room within the Noble’s Section. Gyrsh could not talk to you or approach you, but you would also lose any financial support from him.
“In exchange for room and living expenses, you will work for King Wyltam regarding magical research in secret and stay your title of Lady.” Keyain sighed before continuing. “As for your position on the Queen’s Court, that is at Queen Valeriya’s discretion, though I don’t think she’ll remove you.”
“And I could keep studying magic?” Hope blossomed in her chest. If anything else, she would have magic. Being a mage would be a greater freedom than some emissary’s wife, right? It had to be. Though the loss of Brynden hurt, the possibility of her new future dampened the pain.
“Yes, though I want to ask when did this start happening?” Keyain shifted in his seat, his brows lowered and pulled closer together.
“A bit ago. He saw me reading a book on magic in the library and offered his resources.” She hesitated, then added, “He mentioned my mother had been a mage.”
Keyain nodded his head. “She was. From what I heard, she was extraordinary.”
“So you knew as well but never told me.” Elyse dropped her hands to her lap, the hot burn of anger rising to her cheeks.
“It was better for you to not know, especially with how….” His voice trailed off as he stopped himself.
“How she wasted away?” Elyse shook her head. “I’d rather know than be ignorant.”
Keyain ingested her words, no emotion breaking through his mask. “Will you comply with the emancipation? We can haveyour stuff moved into a new room by tomorrow afternoon. Tonight, you can remain in the infirmary.”
Elyse slumped back against the wall on the bed. “Sure,” she said, her mood deflated. How many people knew about her mother? That Elyse could be like her? Even Sylas had known of her mother’s skill. The frustration built in the back of her throat, tightening as emotion swelled. She was a puppet, and the men in her life held the strings. Elyse swore to give everything into being a mage so she could cut those strings. No husband, father, friend, or king would decide for her again.
Keyain nodded as he stood. His hand clasped her knee before walking towards the door. “I’m really sorry, Elyse. For everything. If you’re looking for a friend, I think Marietta could use someone. Like you, she only has me in this court. You’re the only person I would trust with her.”
Gods, being friends with his wife after they were betrothed was an agonizing thought. Even if Marietta didn’t resent her, there was still the humiliation. Grytaine would thrive with insults. She nodded. Keyain patted her knee and left the room, leaving Elyse with her thoughts.
There was no more Brynden, no more Chorys Dasi. There would be no more days like that afternoon, where she could sit around with friends, feeling relaxed—feeling alive. The thoughts ached; but at least she had magic, and she wouldn’t have her father.
There was a chance that, maybe, she could survive a bit longer.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Marietta
Tilan’s deceptions tore through Marietta, and her life continued in a haze around her. Servants came and went. Keyain came and went. Everything in between was lost, faded to her. Nothing mattered. Her life was a lie.
During the days she felt best, which were still plagued by the silent, unyielding pain threatening to consume her, she would wander through the suite. Keyain kept a blanket and pillow on the couch, opting to sleep separately from her.
Marietta didn’t mind. It didn’t matter either way. Keyain would get what he wanted in the end. That was the point of her being there, after all. What else did she have to live for, if not whatever future Keyain planned?
Because she had nothing else. No home. No friends. No business. Lies built that life. Consumed it. Returning to it wasn’t an option, not when she now knew the truth.
So she drifted through the suite, present only physically as she dug deep into the hollowness of herself, hating every memory that flashed before her.
One afternoon, she sat in her vanity chair placed before the bedroom window. Thick fog hovered over the Central Garden, a slight mist coating the glass with a layer of dew. She watchedas moisture would gather, form larger droplets, and then drip down the pane. Over and over. Dripping like tears. Like blood. Continuous with the unrelenting fog.
“Mar,” Keyain whispered, a hand falling on her shoulder.
She barely heard him, barely noticed his touch, continuing to stare at the window.
With a sigh, Keyain knelt next to her, a hand cupping her face. She stared past him, eyes locked to the dew that dripped.
“Mar, we can’t continue like this. You can’t continue like this.” He brushed the hair out of her face.
His voice sounded far away, echoing in her mind as she blocked him out. To look at Keyain was to remember all the lies, all the pain.
