Page 33 of Surrender
“Some of my clearances were revoked after Betsy went missing. Whether it’s that they don’t trust me, or that they wish to punish me for not realizing Betsy planned to run, I am not certain.” Layla shifted uncomfortably in her seat and cleared her throat.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Fiona exhaled a long breath, wishing she had the ability to contact her mother, or at the very least speak with the doctors who were treating her. Perhaps one day Layla would regain her clearance. Fiona could only hope.
“So… how are things with Merokk?” Layla offered a brief smile that looked forced as she stirred her straw in her iced tea.
Fiona hesitated to answer. Howwerethings with her new husband? She rarely saw him during the daytime, as he was usually gone at meetings with government officials or training with his fellow warriors—well, except for that one time he’d come home early and surprised her in the greenhouse—but they enjoyed dinner together every evening.
Then there was the night.
She felt a flush creeping up her neck. Merokk was most attentive to her at night, when he had her alone in their bedroom. He was a vigorous lover, and she resisted the urge to squirm in her seat as the memories of all their carnal activities sped through her mind, particularly the spankings.
“Um, things are okay, I suppose.” She quickly remembered how little Layla had told her about Kall sexual practices. As Layla had advised her about what to expect, she’d even claimed Merokk would probably want a marriage in name only, in an echo of what Crooked Teeth had told her. But Fiona now knew that she’d been deceived. “Why did you lie to me?” she asked abruptly. “I didn’t think he would want me in his bed, but that’s not the case at all. I was taken completely by surprise the night before our wedding, when he informed me that we would indeed consummate our marriage.”
A waiter approached to refill their drinks, and they fell silent for a moment. Fiona’s eyes shot up as the waiter moved along.
Layla sighed and appeared apologetic. “I’m sorry I lied to you about so many things. That’s actually why I wished to meet with you today—because I wished to apologize. You see, I was instructed to lie so you wouldn’t get cold feet like Betsy and run off. The president blamed me for her abrupt departure after I taught her about Kall sexual practices.”
“So that’s why Betsy ran away? Because she didn’t want to have sex with Merokk?”
“I think she was afraid, particularly when she learned that a Kall is basically his wife’s lord and master.” Layla frowned and her gaze turned distant. “I hope she’ll be okay, wherever she is.”
“I thought you guys were best friends. You really have no idea where she is?” It occurred to Fiona how badly she wished Betsy was never found.
Layla shrugged and pushed her salad around with a fork. “I have no idea. I guess she didn’t trust me anymore. If she’d told me she wanted to hide, I would’ve helped her in any way I could. I would’ve kept her secrets.”
Fiona changed the subject by asking Layla about her family. The president’s aide was newly married and lived with her much older husband in an apartment a few blocks away. Her husband’s son had been eighteen at the start of the war, just old enough to fight against the Kall. Sadly, he died during an attack on DC.
Fiona could sympathize with the tragic loss. The few friends she’d cared about were likely dead. She tried not to think about it, but sometimes she lay awake in the darkness, unable to prevent the faces of all those she’d lost from appearing in her mind, ghosts from the past come to haunt her in the quiet hours of night.I lived once. Don’t forget me.
Layla walked Fiona to the gate of her home, and they made plans to meet for lunch in a week. Layla also promised to check in on Janie again soon, which eased Fiona’s worries somewhat. It was nice to have a friend for a change, and Layla seemed genuine enough. Swinging her handbag and humming, Fiona entered the front door and headed for the never-ending staircase. She slipped off her heels—Betsy’s heels (the First Daughter’s wardrobe was part of the package deal)—and heard the door opening behind her.
Rentzaq.
Shit.Fiona hadn’t taken him along to the café, per Merokk’s instructions whenever she left the house. She hoped the guard didn’t tell her husband. With the café only two blocks away, she would’ve felt silly asking for an escort. Plus, she’d wanted to talk to Layla without anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. She hadn’t known if Rentzaq would insist on joining them at the table or if he would’ve given her the space she desired.
Rentzaq nodded politely and disappeared in the direction of the great room.
Maybe it didn’t matter even if Merokk did find out. After all, Fiona hadn’t been alone on the street. Layla had kept her company the entire time, even arriving at the house to pick her up before they walked to the café together.
Pushing her worries aside, she traded the uncomfortable heels for a pair of flats and spent the afternoon reading a romance novel in the library. At least Betsy’s taste in books was halfway decent, and at least she’d preferred real books to the electronic ones. There was something about the smell of a real book that soothed Fiona’s senses.
Later on, dinner began pleasantly enough, but Fiona soon became aware of Merokk’s foul mood. He barely commented after she said something, when normally they held a lively discussion during mealtimes. Her stomach sank.
This wasn’t like him, but she didn’t have the guts to question his mood.
What if he knew about her disobedience this afternoon?
Worse yet—what if he knew she wasn’t Betsy Carson?
She prayed it was the former and finished her dinner in silence, avoiding Merokk’s fuming obsidian eyes.
The servants cleared the table and returned with glasses of wine. Fiona sipped the strong drink and stole secret glances at her husband. Oh, he looked positively livid. She considered whether or not to confess and couldn’t reach a firm decision.
What if she confessed to thewrongmisdeed?
Or what if he was pissed about something else entirely? Maybe whatever was bothering him didn’t even involve her, she told herself, trying to calm the nerves twisting in her stomach.
“I had an interesting conversation with Rentzaq today,” Merokk said, his casual tone a stark contrast to the fury glinting in his eyes. He swirled the wine in his glass and regarded her with a knowing look, the kind of look that said, ‘I caught you.’
