Page 37 of Surrender
The doorbell rangas Fiona finished descending the stairs. She was on her way to the library but paused, watching as a servant scrambled forward to open the door. Merokk’s father, Penka, was soon admitted, and she rushed to greet him with a smile. The tall elderly Kall visited at least once a week and always treated her with kindness.
“Good evening, Penka,” she said. “What a nice surprise. Please come in and make yourself at home. Merokk hasn’t returned from the military base in Virginia yet, but I am certain he’ll be home at any moment.”
Penka approached her, wearing a relaxed expression. “Thank you, Betsy.”
She escorted him into the ornate great room and they both collapsed on opposite chairs in front of the roaring fire. The chandelier hanging above them reflected the sparks of light from the hearth, creating a rich cozy atmosphere.
“I hope you’re planning to stay for dinner,” she said.
“I am,” he confirmed.
Though she usually felt comfortable around Penka, an awkward silence soon descended. This was her first time entertaining her father-in-law without Merokk by her side and the pressure was starting to get to her.
“I trust you are happy here and that my son is treating you well?” he asked, and the question took Fiona off guard.
“Oh, yes,” she replied quickly, flashing a polite smile. “I am grateful for the opportunity to remain on Earth, particularly in DC so close to my father. And Merokk treats me very well, thank you.” The tips of her ears burned. Was Penka just making conversation, or was he checking up on his son?
The old Kall leaned forward, his gaze taking a serious turn. “I am glad to hear it. Tell me, do you think Merokk is settling into life here?”
She swallowed hard. Oh yes, he was definitely snooping. “Well, I believe he has settled in,” she said, though it didn’t feel like the whole truth. More than once, Merokk had expressed a desire to return to his homeworld. But she didn’t understand the workings of Kall society enough to comment on his disappointment, especially when it was his father who’d decreed he must accept an ambassadorship and remain on Earth.
“He is angry with me,” Penka said, leaning back in his chair.
Before Fiona could reply, a servant entered with glasses of the sweet Kall wine that was traditionally served while entertaining guests. She accepted her glass with a nod of thanks and waited until the servant vacated the room before she responded to Penka’s surprising statement.
“Angry with you? Why?” Her stomach clenched. She wasn’t certain where this conversation was heading, but it was making her uneasy. She didn’t like talking about Merokk behind his back, even if she was speaking with his father. It almost felt like a betrayal. Funny that, when he didn’t even know her real name.
“Because he always wished to claim a seat on the High Council and live on Kall. He has political ambitions, but he is also the youngest of twelve sons.”
“Is it unusual for a younger son to take a seat on the High Council?” she asked.
Penka displayed a tight smile. “It’s not only unusual, it’s unheard of, but Merokk always believed that he might succeed in changing tradition if he was a formidable enough warrior on the battlefield. I could not recommend our elders appoint him to a seat on the High Council because one of his older brothers has already claimed a seat.”
“Does Merokk know about his brother?”
“Yes, he knows. It happened years ago, but still Merokk has persisted in his stubbornness. Of all my sons, he is the most headstrong,” he said with an air of parental exasperation that brought a smile to Fiona’s lips.
“Yes,” she agreed, “he is stubborn. He is also passionate. I’ve heard him speak of the High Council, of how he wished to make a difference on his homeworld.”
“The ambassadorship is the most elevated position a twelfth son might expect,” Penka said. “Not only that, but it comes with the freedom to continue training as a warrior. Even if Merokk had been born a first or a second son, or even a third son, I doubt he would find the peace he’s searching for on the High Council. Though he has political ambitions, he’s always been a warrior at heart. He has a fierce, prideful side that I doubt will ever be tamed.”
Fiona fell silent as she absorbed this information. She wasn’t certain why Penka was revealing so much insight on his son and wished for clarification. Was he asking for her help in some way? Did he wish for her to nudge Merokk to forgive him for his inability to bend Kall tradition?
“Forgive me, but may I ask why you are telling me all of this?” She cast a worried glance toward the hallway, even though there was no sign of Merokk yet.
Penka sighed and shot her a weary smile. No doubt having twelve sons had aged the man considerably and she suspected Merokk must have tested him the most.
“My late wife and I were strangers when we married, and I remember what it was like to marry someone I knew nothing about. I suppose I just wanted to help you understand your husband better,” he said, and his confession both startled and touched her.
“Thank you, Penka. That is very kind of you.”
He met her eyes. “Please, call meFather. It is tradition for females on Kall to address their husband’s sire asFather. I ought to have instructed you to call me Father from the start. I hope you’ll forgive me.” He aimed her a kindly smile that put her at ease. This gesture of his spoke volumes for his regard for her.
Her throat tightened. “Thank you, Father, but there’s nothing to forgive.” The wordFatherfelt strange on her tongue, but not in a bad way. She felt as though she’d just broken a barrier with Penka today, as though he had officially accepted her into his large family, even if she hadn’t met the rest of them and possibly never would.
“You are much more gracious and understanding than Merokk,” Penka said with a chuckle. “He could learn something from you.” The elderly Kall’s dark eyes twinkled. “I doubt you are the type to hold fast to a grudge.”
Gracious and understanding my ass.
