Page 122 of A Queen's Game
Marietta hid her growing smile. Such a casual posture didn’t suit someone in court, let alone a king. It was almost comforting, as if the formality wasn’t for him, either.
“A view from the carriage isn’t the same as experiencing it, you must admit. The wind in your hair, the sound of rustling leaves—especially on a day like today.” She shook her head. “It’dbe wonderful. Though my favorite thing to do in such a park is people watch—something I have done little of in the palace.”
“Why is that?”
Marietta resisted rolling her eyes. “Keyain, mostly. But even when I walk through the Central Garden, most courtiers gawk at me. Makes it hard to watch someone when you have their full attention.”
The King huffed a dry laugh. “Unsurprising, but you misunderstood me. What’s enjoyable about people watching?”
“Oh,” Marietta said, surprised that he wished to know. “Well, each person has their own story, their own way of viewing the world. Our unique experiences forge us into who we are.” She gazed out the window, getting one last glimpse of the park as they passed. “I can’t help but wonder who strangers are.”
White-washed brick gave way to multi-colored stone facades as they traveled into the next district. “I’ve never thought of it that way,” King Wyltam said, breaking the silence.
“When you view life as a puzzle and each person a piece of it, it’s hard to find the truth if you only see one side of a person.”
“How similar you and I are,” he mused, a smile hinting at his lips. “I also view life as a puzzle, but my pieces are what make the world function. Where do we come from? How does the world work?” He paused as if he was considering his words. “What is the source of aithyr?”
“How peculiar that a king ponders such questions,” she teased. “Such interests must be difficult to pursue in your position. I wonder what type of person you would be without your crown.” If she and Valeriya were successful, then perhaps Marietta would see such a thing.
Outside, elven folk mostly walked the streets, but she did see pilinos trekking among them. Expensive-looking clothing seemed left behind in Petal Row, the denizens of this district dressed in practical, less formal attire.
“I often wonder about that myself.”
Marietta jerked her head back towards the King, a question sitting at the tip of her tongue. Why would he have such thoughts? Did he not want to be king? Yet she remained silent, watching as his thoughts took over, his eyes darting back and forth. King Wyltam was odd, peculiar, nothing like she would expect a king to be, let alone a friend of Keyain. Keyain was grounded by reality, of seeing the future and how he can plan his way to it. The King, well, he pondered life’s big questions. How frustrating it must be that he couldn’t explore such ideas.
The carriage turned, heading south according to the direction of the sun. Like the park, leafy trees populated the area, replacing the lush wisteria from the fancier parts of the city. The further they traveled, the more pilinos she saw. A few people turned towards the carriage; yet she knew they couldn’t see her inside.
What would they think of a half-elf in the lone presence of the King? Gods, what did they think of a half-elven lady? Perhaps they thought she betrayed them, basking in the wealth of noble life while those who looked like Marietta were treated as lesser, but the man who sat across from her was to blame, too busy thinking of life and not of those he should serve.
Irritated, she swallowed a sigh. Marietta would change the Satiroan society, though. Together, she and Valeriya would deliver the Exisotis the information, and they would break the Satiroan court from within, starting with Keyain.
She peeked out the window in the direction they headed, and her brows furrowed. The buildings grew tall and narrow, looking as if the structures were smashed together haphazardly, like a cheap quilt stitched and patchy. Plants crowded the balconies, the vines and brambles twisting every which way, cascading down the buildings’ facades.
The cobblestone road ended at the knobby buildings, and beyond she could see dirt streets crowded with people. As they approached, she could see the stunted and rounded tips of ears. She could see the facial hair on the men—a feature of only those who are pilinos. But there was no elven. Her lips pursed, her irritation building as she turned to the King. He was already watching her with his normal icy expression settled over his face.
“Rambler Grove. The only district in which pilinos can live. Most citizens refer to it as The Weeds.” He glanced at his shirt, plucking something off and letting it drop to the floor. It was clever, the casual arrogance of such a gesture, as if talking about the only district for people like her wasn’t worth his full attention.
She dug her nails into her palms as she glanced back. “Couldn’t let them spread out of the district, so you had the buildings built higher to fit more, huh?” She should have hidden the disdain in her voice while talking to the King, yet she left caution behind.
“Historically, yes.” From the corner of her eyes, she watched him shift back into a seated position. “The pilinos’ population seems to grow by a third each year. Only half of The Weeds’ inhabitants are native to Satiros. We have many pilinos from the other cities hiding within our city-state.”
“As if it’s better here,” she mumbled, glaring at the chaotic buildings. Enomenos wouldn’t allow such shoddy structures, deemed too dangerous, too carelessly built. Past the buildings, she noticed people pulling carts—and then it hit her. “You don’t let them have horses.” Marietta turned to King Wyltam with an incredulous laugh. “The elven can learn magic, afford to hire mages for such tasks, so not having beasts to pull wagons and carts isn’t an issue.” Her words boiled out of her from the rage that built inside. “But for them—” she jabbed her finger into the glass “—you don’t allow for any aid, so they pull it themselves.”
His dark eyes hardened at her tone. “As you said, not having horse shit in the city is enjoyable for many.”
Her nails nearly broke through her skin for how hard she pressed. So this was the proper Satiroan experience for a pilinos, to lose out on the privilege of magic in a city ran by it. Gods, she bet if she were to walk through the streets of The Weeds, she would find gas lanterns lining the walkways in place of the fancy light globes.
“Life is better for those outside the city-state walls,” the King added. “Though all pilinos outside the walls are natural-born citizens of Satiros.”
“Why would that matter?” The question came out sharper than she intended, but the King didn’t acknowledge it.
“Those who flee the other Syllogian city-states do so illegally. There’s a universal law, agreed to by the various queens and kings of Syllogi, that if a criminal of one city-state is in another, they have the right to extradite them.” He paused, cocking his head at Marietta. “But in Satiros, I don’t allow the other city-states’ guards inside our walls.”
“And why is that?” she ground out.
“Too many resources spent on tracking them, making sure they don’t take anyone they’re not supposed to take,” he said in such a casual manner as if it were an annoyance and not an immoral act. “So, our guards focus on protecting the pilinos living outside the walls, ensuring that those who were born here can live peacefully within their means.”
“And you don’t care if you havecriminalsliving in your city?”
