The Shape of Surrender

Nalyra woke slowly, stretching her body beneath the blankets of her bed. As had become her habit, the first thing she did when she awoke was to push out with her mind, reaching for her consort. Good. He was in his proper place, on his cot in her cabin. Still asleep, judging from the shape of his thoughts.

Carefully, gently, she gave his mind a small touch — not enough to wake him or peek into his dreams, just enough to feel the texture of his thoughts. The unique flavor of how his Ydani mind shaped his inner world. After a moment, she withdrew, satisfied.

Still, it promised to be a long, tedious day, so it would be best to start early. Nalyra slipped out of her bed, heading toward the sizable bathroom of the cabin. The Crown Daughter passed by her sleeping consort on the way, and paused for a moment. Careful to make no noise, she leaned closer to him, examining his sleeping face.

The face of a man nearly twice her age. She had been honest the night before — the difference in their years truly did not bother her. Besides, with Zakkili medical care and technology, both of them would live significantly longer than their natural lifespan. But still, the difference in experience, in lived years and decades gave her pause to think.

Looking closely, she could see it. Ydani clearly aged gracefully, but a few of the small lines around his visible eye were likely not just years of war and command, but the natural result of nearing middle age. Actually, she quite liked it, she could honestly admit, with him asleep and there being zero chance of the feeling leaking over their Bridge. He looked rather…dignified. Scarred, slightly weathered, but a survivor. A man who had outlasted every opponent and hardship in his long life.

A grin touching her lips, Nalyra slipped away, moving to take her morning shower.

By the time she returned to the main part of the cabin, fully dressed, Tor’laen was awake, already slipping on his uniform.

“Nalyra,” he said simply, nodding at the Crown Daughter.

“Tor’laen. I trust you found your sleep restful?”

“I did.”

A man of few words in the morning, she had found.

“Do you have my orders for the day?” he asked after a few moments, pinning his insignia on his collar.

“We will be returning to Kelran’s capital complex,” Nalyra said, moving to her desk. “While Nivi and the intelligence team will be up here on the Aegis looking into these PMCs, we will be doing the same through the official channels in the governor’s office. And we’re going to be very public about what we’re doing.” She glanced at him, grinning.

“Pressure on the Houses and PMCs?”

“Indeed. We will shake them up, and see if nothing rattles loose.”

“I look forward to it.” Tor’laen’s voice was calm, but there was a faint hint of anticipation over their Bridge. Her consort was not one for passiveness, as she had come to learn.

“But before that…” Nalyra fished out an object from her desk, one that had been delivered to her the previous day. “This.”

She held it up for him to see. A band of fabric, similar in shape to the one he wore over his left eye. However, compared to his current unremarkable cloth band, this one was well-made, the fabric soft and the same shade of black as his uniform. The entire thing was embroidered tastefully with gold accents, lining its edges.

“My thanks, but do you feel it really necessary?” he asked wryly.

“You are my Shield Consort.” Nalyra moved to stand in front of him, folding her arms with a hmph. With him sitting and her standing, they were nearly eye-to-eye. “You should look the part. The uniform is doing well, but let us correct this final gap.”

“As you wish, Nalyra.”

Tor’laen reached up to the band currently resting on his head.

“Tor’laen.” Nalyra’s voice made him pause, fingers hovering over the cloth.

His gaze returned to her.

“I would request…” her voice trailed off slightly. This was rather novel territory for her. “I would like to see your other eye, Tor’laen.”

He raised an eyebrow at her.

“If that is your desire, I have no reason to refuse you.” He shrugged. “It is no great secret, I simply keep it covered because it is unpleasant to look at.”

“Then yes, I would like to see it.”

It was a perfectly reasonable request. After all, who knew how far Zakkili medicine was ahead of Ydani technology? Yes, once she had seen the wound, she would be better prepared to order any necessary procedures. It made perfect sense.

Wordlessly, Tor’laen reached up and started to remove his cloth band. He struggled slightly to get it over his horns, but after a moment the stretchy fabric came free.

For the first time, Nalyra could see the full extent of the injury the band had been concealing. Starting at Tor’laen’s hairline, a single thin, clean scar ran down his forehead, over his closed eyelid, and ended in the middle of his cheek. It had clearly been caused by some manner of bladed weapon, even Nalyra could tell, perhaps with one clean strike.

After a small pause, Tor’laen opened his scarred eyelid, revealing the injury it concealed.

Her consort’s left eye was darker than his right, the pupil visibly damaged. Not in a way that made it grotesque, but still obvious to anyone who looked. This eye was also unlit compared to his other, lacking the golden glow that Tor’laen’s undamaged eye always held.

And yet…it wasn’t completely gone.

Indeed, his damaged eye still contained flickers of that same glow, like the embers of a low burning flame, stubbornly clinging to life. It gave his uncovered gaze a strange feeling of melancholy — a haunting kind of beauty Nalyra had not been expecting. There was a strange gentleness to it, as if it were the last vestige of softness on this otherwise war-hardened soldier.

Without even realizing she was doing so, Nalyra lifted a hand, and gently touched his scarred cheek, right below his damaged eye. It was almost a caress, and Tor’laen just stared at her wordlessly.

The Crown Daughter caught herself, realizing just what she was doing, and forced the gesture into an inspection, making a show of turning his head this way and that, checking the damaged eye.

“Perhaps you can see why I keep it covered,” Tor’laen said dryly, breaking the silence.

“I…” Nalyra started, unsure of how to respond. “I know not what beauty standards are among the Ydani, but many of the Zakkili Nobles we will be interacting with are rather…squeamish when it comes to such things. Keeping it covered would probably be the wiser move politically.” She handed him the new covering.

It really was the truth, and Nalyra was sure that more than a few Noble women and men would likely judge him for it, either publicly or privately, depending on whether she was present. But more than that, Nalyra didn’t want to share this sight with another soul. That faint glow, that golden flicker belonged to her by right. Tor’laen was her consort. She was the only one he should allow access to it. A Crown Daughter did not share her treasures so readily.

Her consort had just finished putting on the cloth band when she spoke up again.

“However…if it is more comfortable for you…” She tried her best to sound casual, nonchalant. “When it is just us, when we are alone in our cabin, I would not mind in the slightest if you were to forego that covering.”

He simply stared at her, his puzzlement coming over their Bridge. His unspoken question was obvious: Wouldn’t you rather not see it?

“You are my Shield Consort, Tor’laen,” she said, drawing herself up, her voice imperious. “I am a Crown Daughter. I will not shy away from the things that shaped you into the man you now are.”

Tor’laen was quiet for a breath, studying her carefully. Then he reached out, taking her gently by the shoulders. She stiffened for a split second, before relaxing in his grip. He leaned forward, and softly bumped his forehead against hers, before releasing her.

“Understood. I’ll not hide things from you, Nalyra.”

The Crown Daughter blinked at him.

“Ah, uh…yes. That is acceptable. Good.”

She made her way over to her desk, very aware of her consort’s gaze following her closely. Taking a seat, she pulled a number of pins out of her desk alongside a fairly large golden comb.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“After I set my Crown Veil, we shall begin our preparations to return to Kelran. Is that acceptable?”

“Of course, Nalyra.”

She started to assemble her complex hairstyle, trying not to think too hard about the complicated mix of emotions whispering from him over their Bridge.

Tor’laen swiped through another document on the tablet in his hands, the figures and calculations all but meaningless to him. A business expense for ship maintenance here, troop salaries there, and endless notes for debts and windfalls. It all seemed so…absurd. Was this a mercenary company or a catering business? One might get confused between the two, considering just how many social events and functions this PMC seemed to regularly hold. So wasteful.

The Ydani sat at one of the desks in Kelran’s capital complex, in a room that seemed like it was usually home to a veritable army of secretaries and other ministers and government officials. Rows of desks lined the room, broken up only by a small forest of potted plants and miniature trees.

At the moment, however, it was occupied by Tor’laen, Nalyra, and the twenty members of the Aegis’s crew that had accompanied them. Two squads of the Citadel’s Armswomen were also present, stationed by the entrances of the room, talking quietly amongst themselves.

Throughout the past few bells, a stream of civil officials had visited the room, another coming every few marks. They had dropped off tablets and other documents, peering curiously into the office as they did.

Tor’laen pushed his gaze back onto the tablet, but it was no good. The words and numbers seemed to swim around on the screen, making it impossible to focus. He clenched his jaw. A feeling of uselessness was pushing against the front of his brain.

Patience, Tor’laen. Nalyra’s mental voice sounded inside his mind. Remember, a large part of our task is being seen doing this.

His frustration must have been leaking over their Bridge quite heavily. Sheepishly, he glanced over at Nalyra. The Crown Daughter was the very picture of focus, confidently swiping through a tablet of data, giving not a single sign of the psychic communication.

You’re right. He did his best to send the thoughts back toward her. I have never had much patience for documentation or recordkeeping, if I am to be honest.

Oh? Did being an Outrunner Captain not come with its share of data entry? Amusement colored Nalyra’s mental voice.

You may not believe it, but I did have a number of aides. They knew better than to put figures or documents in front of me.

My poor consort, dragged from a life of luxury back into the mundane reality of checking files. He felt like he could almost hear her chuckling at him over their connection. Ah, but, speaking of aides…

A small pulse from her mind pulled his attention to the front of the room. The governor’s head secretary, Orli, was standing at the entrance of the room, peering inside. Her eyes were darting around nervously, looking for something, or someone.

I will check it out, he sent back, pushing himself to his feet.

Orli’s gaze snapped onto him, a hint of relief crossing her face. The Ydani made his way through the rows of desks, approaching the entrance. The Armswomen on guard snapped to attention at his approach.

“Shield Consort.”

“Sergeant Rila.” He nodded at her. “Let the woman through, if you would.”

“Yes, Consort.”

The sergeant and another Armswoman stood aside, ushering the Kelrana woman into the room. Orli’s gaze was still darting around nervously, taking in the various soldiers and crew members from the Aegis. She wrung her hands anxiously.

“This way, miss.” Tor’laen gently shepherded the woman over to an unoccupied corner of the room, pulling a chair from a desk and sliding it over. He motioned for her to sit, and knelt down, putting the two at roughly the same eye level.

“Sh-Shield Consort,” she stammered, barely able to make eye contact with him.

“Is there something wrong, Orli?” he asked gently.

“Yes…yes there is.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Tor’laen waited patiently, allowing the woman to work through whatever doubts or worries she was fighting.

“I shouldn’t—I shouldn’t be saying this.” She shook her head vigorously. “The governor said it wasn’t something we should burden the Royal Hand with, but…” she trailed off, her nerve failing her once more.

“What’s going on, Orli? Has something happened?”

She looked at him, her eyes full of near-panic.

“Listen, Orli,” he started, holding her gaze. “Whatever this is, I swear to do everything in my power as Shield Consort to protect you from any fallout that comes of you telling me.”

She paused for a breath, staring at him, then slowly nodded.

“In the past few measures, there have been a number of…disappearances,” she said, her voice quiet. “Always Zakkili, always women. They just vanish — from their apartments, on their way home from work, while out shopping — always without a trace. At first there was no connection between them: different districts, different circumstances, different times. But putting them all together, it’s impossible to ignore the pattern.”

“How many?” Tor’laen asked, his body tense.

“Forty-six, by last count. At least the ones we know about.” She hesitated. “...the most recent one was just a span ago. The woman worked here, only two desks down from mine.”

Tor’laen had to stop himself from balling his fists with rage.

“Why hasn’t the governor said anything to us? To the Royal Hands?” he managed to ask calmly.

“She’s ashamed, I think.” Orli’s voice was very small. “She had been working tirelessly to solve the issue, and her agents haven’t been able to uncover a single piece of actionable evidence. Then, the pressure of the trade dispute started to take its toll — forty-six missing women is terrible, but when we’re starting the preparations for possible food riots, they ended up being filed as the less immediate crisis.”

“That is quite serious.” Tor’laen chewed on the inside of his cheek for a few moments, turning the information around in his head. “Orli,” he began, the woman sitting up a bit straighter. “I would like to bring this to the attention of the Crown Daughter.”

The Kelrana woman gave a frightened squeak at the idea, her eyes going wide.

“She will not punish you, I promise.” Tor’laen raised his palms once more, trying to keep her calm. “The Crown Daughter is strict, but fair — there is no way you will be blamed for this.”

“...how can you be sure?” Orli managed to ask after a small pause.

“I would say I know her fairly well.” He gave the Kelrana woman a small smile. “After all she is my…”

He trailed off for a moment. His what? His commander? Technically yes, but not exactly comforting. His Crown Daughter? Well, yes, but Crown Daughter to the entire Citadel as well. His partner? No, that didn’t quite feel right.

“After all, she is my wife,” he offered after a moment.

Orli was quiet for a few breaths, perhaps thinking over the idea.

“Alright. Okay, then,” she said softly.

He turned to glance at the Crown Daughter, finding her already looking at him. A brush of her mind touched his, her thoughts curious, questioning.

I have something here. You want to hear this, he directed his thoughts toward her.

A pulse of acknowledgement, and she got to her feet. Tor’laen turned back to Orli, but kept his mind focused on Nalyra.

Be gentle, please. She’s terrified.

I am the very picture of kindness and restraint, I assure you, came the Crown Daughter’s psychic response.

Tor’laen thought nothing specific, but let his amused doubt at the statement flow back over their Bridge. It earned him another playful psychic whap from Nalyra’s mind.

“Crown Daughter, this is Head Secretary Orli, who was present yesterday,” he introduced her as Nalyra drew close.

“Secretary Orli,” the Crown Daughter said calmly, inclining her head at the woman. She had her shoulders relaxed, and her hands folded neatly behind her back.

He had to give Nalyra credit, she probably seemed only mildly frightening to the Kelrana, rather than her usual state of generally terrifying.

“C-Crown Daughter.” Orli rose to her feet and gave a trembling curtsy.

Quickly, Tor’laen explained the situation to Nalyra, bringing her up to speed. He could feel her thoughts twist with surprise over their Bridge.

“A most concerning state of affairs,” Nalyra said slowly.

“Crown Daughter, um…” Orli faltered as Nalyra’s gaze turned to her. “I think, uh, maybe…”

“Please continue, Head Secretary. You have my ear.”

“I think these women, the missing Zakkili…” Orli said, her voice quiet. “I think they are being taken offworld.”

“What makes you say so?” Nalyra’s tone was sharp, but not angry.

“We Kelrana…I think you know what we’re like. In general, my people are naturally curious, and usually terrible at keeping secrets.” The woman seemed to gain confidence as she talked. “If I was looking to keep something hidden, I would not do it on Kelran. The risk just seems too high.”

“I see.” Nalyra nodded at the woman. “That is indeed a useful insight. I thank you for offering it.”

The Crown Daughter turned from the Kelrana woman, beckoning to Tor’laen with a slender finger. He followed her a few paces away from the secretary.

“This changes things quite drastically,” Nalyra said quietly. “Our current course is no longer our top priority.”

“Will you bring this up with the governor?”

“Not yet. The woman may have acted foolishly, but I do not believe her actions were out of malice or complicity. But this paints things in a darker light.”

“Which is?” Tor’laen asked.

“One of the PMCs associated with House Freika, Meridian Operations, has been spending far more funds than they should feasibly have access to. On top of that, they are expanding faster than should be possible,” Nalyra explained.

“You think it is related?”

“I do. Sapient trafficking is quite profitable, after all,” the Crown Daughter said grimly. “The question only remains of how far this spreads beyond them.”

“Understood.” Tor’laen hesitated for a moment. “Nalyra, I would like to request that you keep Orli under your protection. I swore that I would do everything possible to protect her from any backlash, if she shared her information.”

“Keep her safe. Such a soft side, my consort,” she said, but with a smirk that seemed much more pleased than teasing. “But yes, I will do so. Such bravery is to be rewarded, not punished.”

The Crown Daughter spun and moved back to the Kelrana woman, who stiffened slightly at her approach.

“Head Secretary, I will instruct my Armswomen to protect you as well, so I ask that you do not leave this room without one of them accompanying you. From this moment on, you are under the protection of the Saint’s Aegis, until such a time when this matter is resolved.”

“Y-yes, Crown Daughter.” She gave another curtsy, but her gaze flicked to Tor’laen. The Ydani gave her a slight nod — this was not imprisonment or punishment. The woman seemed to breathe easier. “Will you take action against the governor?” she dared to ask, her voice still timid.

“That remains to be seen. Based on your testimony, I do not believe this concealment is coming from a place of malice, but there are still things that must be reported. I shall speak with her later.” She turned toward the entrance of the room. “Now, however, we must strike before our enemies can gird their minds. And I have a very good idea where to do so.”