Page 58 of The Surrender

Jinx’s excited yips interrupt the elder as he bounds into the room, licking his chops and swishing his tails. Warm glee bursts into me as my little rook springs onto the bed and pounces on my chest, rasping his thick, sandpapery tongue against my cheeks.

“Missed you, too, Jinxy.” I kiss his snout and burrow my fingers into his fur while keeping the blanket sealed around my frame. “Thanks, my pup.”

It makes up for the one time he nearly led me to my death when I plunged through the ice and into the cavern of baby bones. My fox licks his chops again, cleaning himself from dinner, then jerks his head to the side. I smile as he tries to catch the edge of one bushy flicking tail until he yips again and launches into a spinning chase.

Still, my heart sinks to my stomach when I consider how Jinx found me. And not...I swing my eyes to the elder, hopeful breath filling my chest when I ask, “Have the Kings come to the village yet?”

The elder shakes his head and gestures out the small corner window of the room, indicating it’s still night. “You weren’t out too long, my Lady. And the village has been in quite a tizzy speaking of the Queen of the Court of Storms.” The subtle lines around his eyes crease. Shadows grow as he parts his lips, as if conflicted—unsure how much to share. He clears his throat and continues, “How it was announced she is with child before King Kyanatu’s monster attacked her. And how the other three Kings defended her.”

When he steps forward so his shadow swells to engulf me, I shiver. Not from his height or his standing—but from those spine-chilling eyes. With him in this position, I feel smaller. Not the Queen of the Court of Storms.

“Such a feat has never been done, my Lady,” he adds, placing his palm against his chest. Lithe muscles ripple in his arms that seem out of place in his clerical robe. “My commendations. Not once in centuries have the Kings found a partner they could all share. Nor one who bears their child.”

A faint smile teases the corners of my mouth, but I squeeze my shoulders and meekly say, “I don’t know whose baby it is yet.”

“You should eat, my Lady.” He nudges the tray closer to me. “I healed your wounds, but you went through quite an ordeal in the woods. You need strength for yourself and your child.”

Although my nerves twist, I nod, picking up on the light trembling of my stomach, the subtle growl signaling my hunger. Movement on the bed distracts me as Jinx finally tires of chasing his tail and curls his warm little body at my side.

“Oh, my dress?” I wonder just as he turns away.

“The gown was beyond repair and fraught with blood stains, but I placed one on a hook in the closet for you. I hope it is to your satisfaction.” He folds his hands behind his back and lowers his chin.

While scratching Jinx behind his ears, wishing I could get rid of the itch prickling my skin, I clutch the blanket to my neck and call out, “Wait...will you tell me your name?”

The elder pauses in the entryway. My lungs shrink, siphoning my breath. His spine is straight but not stiff. And the muscles in his neck don’t strain from my second question. His energy is the opposite of a storm. It’s calm as still, deep water. So, why do my nerve endings riot whenever I look at him?

“Elder Nuriel,” he responds with a subtle turn of his head. “Please enjoy the meal.”

As soon as he’s gone, the air feels lighter. A weight lifted off my chest. My lungs swell to normal again.

The first thing I do is check my body and screw my brows low when I find no evidence of any fresh scars from my time in the woods. As he said, it wasn’t long ago. I should have raised flesh on my brow from where I tore off the circlet. I should have abrasions on my belly. And a slash on my arm.

As much as my chest pinches with anxiety, I dismiss it. Perhaps Elder Nuriel has a healing ability. Or he could have brought me to Kyan’s healing lake. The second option seems far-fetched since it’s in the opposite direction as the village.

I give Jinx a little push, so I don’t upset the table on the one side. It takes a few tries before he snorts and stretches, arching his back. Sliding across the bed, I climb out and make my way to the closet. A gasp leaves my throat as soon as I open the door to the replacement dress.

It’s no simple dress. It reminds me of the angelic gowns in the Court of Storms, but more simplistic. A plunging v-neckline, off-the-shoulder narrow sleeves, and black translucence of silky fabric hugs my figure to the slight flare of the skirts. Thin silver filigree decorates the gown.

After I’ve dressed, I study my reflection in the closet mirror on the door. And wonder why an elder would possess such a gown.

Raised voices from beyond the room divert my attention. Recognizing the second, I scurry toward the hall to eavesdrop.

“You cannot keep her here,” the familiar smoky voice protests.

“Watch your tone, Zephella,” warns Nuriel, his baritone deepening. “Or I will revoke the terms of our arrangement.”

From here, I can make out the figure of Zephella from behind. The ruffled feathers of her wings suddenly shrink from his statement. It’s the first time I’ve seen her shrink. A chill shivers up my spine.

“It’s different now. She carries a child, their child. Will you take away the one glint of hope our race has seen and felt since—”

“Since what?” he growls, and Zephella flinches, cowing again. “Since when? Since who, Zephella?”

A pause. My pulse picks up, and I grow dizzy from the tension impregnating the air. And from my lack of food.

“The Kings are scouring the village for her,” Zephella points out. “It won’t be long before they find her.”

“I’m counting on it.” I hear his breath quickening in eagerness from here. “Let them come. It’s high time Kyanatu paid for his sins.”

---