Page 11 of The Surrender

He would have sent me to the Sacrifice a thousand times over.

Mayce pulls out the head chair for me. I drop my jaw, confounded by the honor. I still haven’t found my tongue. Too preoccupied studying the gold-embroidered patterns on each side of his robe, musing more on his past and realm. Then again, I still have much to learn about all their pasts, their extensive history in the Waste and before.

“Where is Drago?” I glance around the entryways of the dining hall, half-expecting him to charge right in, take me in his arms, and pin me against the wall.

Mayce rolls his eyes and jerks a finger to the east-facing window. “See for yourself.”

Threading my brows, I approach the glass, my pulse quickening with every step. My chest nearly caves in at the sight of the dragon and fallen angel battering their fists into one another and bashing their bodies against the rocks around them. Blood flows down each side of their faces, and I’d swear Kyan has a broken wing. I wince when Drago lands a solid punch to his jaw.

The Fae king settles a hand on the small of my back and huffs, “They’ll be finished soon, don’t you worry, little one. Not so unusual when it comes to those two. Drago is quite possessive after all. He was none too thrilled by Kyan’s antics of stealing you away right from under his nose.” He touches my elbow, urging me back to the table.

“They’re fighting over...me?” I whisper my awe.

Taking another glimpse, I shake my head out, bewildered by the notion. All my life, I was told no one would ever want me, much less wage a dual for me. A warmth floods my chest at the thought, and I’m more conflicted than ever over their injuries.

Still, I find my humor as Mayce directs me to the table, thinking back to how Kyan took me to the roof of Drago’s castle, pitched me over the side, and caught me in midair. Well...among other things. “Technically, he stole me right from over his nose.” I smirk at the king from the side.

Mayce pauses, blinks, then inclines his head to Merikh before turning back to me. And chuckles. “Right, you are indeed, our little queen. Right you are. Now, you must be famished.”

Once I’m seated, Mayce pushes in the chair for me. No sooner does he sit than a host of birdlike servants usher in with an array of food. It’s clear that they all share equal power even if this is Kyan’s castle and realm within the Waste.

My mouth waters as soon as the dishes are placed before me, but I’m a little dazed when an older man approaches. Man is a stretch. He bows his head, and I narrow my too-curious eyes. He wears a well-tailored and pressed suit, complete with a warm brown pinstripe tie.

What intrigues me most is his face. Large beady eyes surrounded by wrinkly rings scrutinize me. Tufts of white fur enclose the rings and fan out toward the sides of his head. From the bridge of his nose, a long beak descends toward his mouth - a mouth I cannot see thanks to all the generous growth of white fur that covers the lower half of the old man’s face. So similar to a beard.

I smile since it reminds me of a butler ghost who once wandered my family’s manor. From the monocle perched on his right eye to his great bushy, white eyebrows that branch off to surround the top of his wrinkly, bald head, he is the picture-perfect butler.

“This evening’s supper will feature a first course of spirit soup and dew bread.” His voice reminds me of his face—crackly but comforting, and I find myself relaxing in my seat. “The second course will be roasted vegetables with smoky cloud sauce and golden noodles with current cheese. Finally, the third course will invite you to sample the finest honey cakes and fruit. Does my lady have any objection or requests on behalf of the chef?”

I lick my lips, already eager based on his descriptions. “None at all, but will you tell me your name please?”

The butler blinks at first, opening his mouth, though the furry white fluff still conceals his lips. “Oliver Shift, my lady. I am the Royal Steward of the Court of Storms and Breath.”

I barely hear the last word over the sound of Mayce coughing loudly and pointedly while sharpening his eyes upon the Steward. Understanding presses in upon my chest that Oliver Shift just revealed something forbidden. An after-thrill jumps my pulse as I consider what other secrets the Steward might reveal if I gain his trust. For now, I placate myself and fold my hands in my lap as Oliver Shift nods his obedience to Mayce and turns back to me to offer a smile that crinkles his eyes, almost disturbing his monocle.

“I will inform the chef. And thank you, my lady. We have all been quite eager for your arrival.” He places his hand on his chest and bows at the waist. The servants standing at the wall do the same, and I can’t help but blush and lower my head, squirming in my seat.

I open my mouth to protest the gesture when the sound of two great doors shutting reverberates through the castle—as loud as thunder. The Steward barks a firm command to the servants, and they leave the room swifter than the wind while heavy, tromping boots invade the halls outside the dining room, growing closer.

Mayce heaves a sigh but straightens in his seat while drumming his fingers upon the table. Merikh hasn’t moved from his relaxed state, hardly bothered by the encroaching footsteps of his other brothers. I bite my lower lip, unsure of what to say or what to make of them when Kyan and Drago stomp into the room.

My lips part at the sight of them. I practically lurch out of my seat and grip the back of it as a nest of emotions tangle inside of me. Bruises mar their bodies along with layers of mud, both fresh and old. Kyan’s feathers are covered in dirt, the same as Drago’s scales. Blood has long since caked onto their skin, though a few wounds still ooze with it. The two of them just stand there, gazing at me, but the subtle shifting of their eyes shows a mark of humiliation over their actions.

So, with a deep breath and gripping the back of my chair until my knuckles whiten, I throw away all misgivings and insecurities. And default to what I know best. “Are you two quite finished fighting over me and ready to kiss and make up?”

9

We must punish her for this.

KYAN

Gods, she’s too adorable wearing my clothes! Earlier, before I went on my joy flight and then met up with Drago for our little dispute, I gave explicit instructions to Shift to treat my little Quinny like the Lady of the Court. The ol’ gizzard was the first to accuse me of madness, considering what had happened with the last lady. But it took one well-placed growling command to silence his protests.

So pretty and oh, so gray, but she'll break your heart if you let her stay! Shadow taunts me as Drago and I survey our little queen.

As soon as the first words leave her mouth, Drago flinches and turns to me, curling his upper lip back to reveal a broken tooth. I tense, wincing from the broken ribs he gave me. Out of the corner of my eye, Quinny taps the back of her chair, impatient. More adorable is how she stomps her foot and jerks a finger at us.

“If you’re not ready to make up, you can go back outside and work it out. I won’t have you spoiling my first supper here in the Court of Storms, Kyan.” Gasps echo from the outer hall, and I roll my eyes, knowing the servants are listening in, incredulous at this wee slip of a girl addressing me, a King and God of the Waste—without title. In my own Court, no less.

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