Page 120 of A Queen's Game
“I figured as much,” Sylas grumbled, staring out at the pond next to Elyse. “But I can read the hope on your face when we talk about Brynden. I’m sorry about what I said last time, about him growing bored and me picking up the pieces. Brynden is impulsive, never stays on one thing too long. Even though he’s my friend, I don’t think he’ll make a good husband—ever. You have been through enough.”
Elyse scoffed. “So you get to decide if he’s a suitable match for me or not?”
Sylas cut her a glare. “No—what I’m saying is the male you see now will not be the male you get in the future. You’re young. There are hundreds of years left in your life.”
“So forget him?”
“No, Elyse. Just wait. There’s no rush to marry him, so don’t plan on leaving Satiros with him, okay?”
His scowl softened into a frown, concern showing. Why did Sylas care for her, anyway? Elyse nodded as she wrapped her arms across her middle, avoiding his gaze.
“I have to run to a meeting, but I’ll find you when Brynden has his response.” Before he left the willow, Sylas added, “You really are talented, you know. The drawing is perfect. He’ll love it.”
Elyse just waved a hand, letting him leave without another word.
Hope to be with Brynden reignited after reading his apology. That somehow, despite everything that happened, they could still be together. That Elyse could leave Satiros with Brynden and become his wife.
Hope was a deceitful feeling.
Chapter Forty-Eight
Marietta
Marietta cursed herself all morning after Keyain lingered in the suite, asking if she was sure she wanted to go on the carriage ride with the King. With a lot of patience and Valeriya’s goal fresh on her mind, Marietta eased Keyain’s worrying. And by that, it meant she kissed him on the cheek before he left, causing him to grin with a flush. The action made her stomach churn. But she could do it, and she would, if only to watch Keyain’s face when he realized it wasn’t real. Gods, when did she become so cruel?
The carriage ride with the King posed a slight hiccup for her winning Keyain over, being that he had found out through King Wyltam that she had accepted his offer. When she sent her reply, she didn’t know Valeriya would appear in the wall to conspire against Keyain.
An entourage of guards escorted Marietta to the front of the palace, her curls loosened around her head. The fabric of her dress was soft and comfortable with slits in the legs, which she was thankful for when they stepped into the sun’s heat.
The driver hopped down from his perch, his skin dark and long black hair tied into a tail. Without a word, he opened the door for Marietta, revealing the King sitting inside. Ominous,he sat quietly, his gaze peering out the window. Rocking the carriage, the guards climbed into position on the outside. Marietta took a seat as they rolled forward, startling her. There wasn’t a jerk of motion like with horses.
“Magic,” the King said in his deep voice, his dark eyes now observing Marietta.
“Excuse me, King Wyltam?” Marietta held back her attitude at his lack of greeting.
“Magic propels the carriage. The driver is a mage.”
Marietta glanced towards the cab wall where the driver sat on the outside. “So there are no horses, Your Grace.”
“None in the city, at least.”
She shrugged, taking her first good look at the King. His shirt was of black silk, the neckline showing a bit of his chest. Nestled in his dark hair was the thin crown of gold. “Must be nice, not having to dodge horse sh—” Marietta bit her lip, stopping herself from finishing the sentence. She was with the gods damned King, and she was talking about horse shit. What was wrong with her? “Your Grace,” she added, averting her eyes.
One side of his mouth twitched with amusement. “For those who walk the streets, I’m sure it’s a pleasant feature of our city-state.”
A minute passed where neither spoke. Apparently, a tour of the city was visual, not verbal. She stared out the window at the rows of plain white buildings and their black roofs. The only source of color came from the plants that blossomed on most of them.
Marietta glanced back at the King, who watched her with an expressionless gaze. Hating the silence, Marietta asked, “What is this part of the city called, Your Grace?”
“Petal Row,” he answered, looking out the window. “The district is known for its entertainment. Taverns, theaters, museums, gardens, and more occupy the area. When the citywas founded, our oldest tavern, The Lily Pad, was the only business in the district. Throughout the….”
Gods, it was as if he read from a history book. Not realizing the verbal tour would feel like a lecture, Marietta nodded, focusing on every other word as she viewed the people on the street. All elven, all in fine clothing. Though she shouldn’t be surprised by it, she felt crestfallen by the lack of pilinos. As they neared a bridge, Marietta perked up.
“This is Bellflower Bridge. Built in….”
She sunk back into her seat. Perhaps this was a mistake.
“After we cross Bellflower Bridge, we enter Greening Juncture, known for its—” The King paused as she stifled her yawn. “Apologies, Marietta. Am I boring you?”
