Daughters of the King |✓|

Chapter Thirty-One

The wind was howling like an angry beast. The front door of the house pushed open slowly, almost reluctantly, the hinges complaining. Suddenly, a face appeared, eyes wide. As though seeing an apparition.

Zelle's voice trembled when she spoke. "Olya?"

I smiled. "I'm home."

She took in the sight of me in my savage's clothes. Cargo pants and feathers. She might have asked me what I was doing here, why I'd been let go, why I'd been permitted to live. The last time we'd seen each other, I'd been locked in a prison cell, awaiting a death sentence.

I put my hand on my stomach, and her eyes followed, landing on the bulge beneath my sweater. At four months into my pregnancy, I was beginning to show, and I watched as the blood drained from her face. The color of shame.

"I had hoped you'd still be here," I said, pushing past her to get inside where it was warm.

She was almost too stunned to function. She didn't even bother shutting the door. She left it open for the vile wind to blow inside, and just stood there watching me strip off my gloves and drag my boots on the mat. The old house creaked all around us, slowly losing its battle against the elements. It sounded like it might disintegrate into dust and blow away completely.

I had missed it more than I could say.

"Yes," Zelle managed, after a long pause, her voice detached, like her mind couldn't quite catch up. "After—after everything, some of us were just... left behind."

"And you've made the best of it, I suppose?"

"It's been very hard," she admitted. "Food is scarce."

"I'll take care of that." I was already craving the woods. "Who else is here?"

"Bohdai," she said. "Narumi. Jai."

I tried not to cringe too hard at the mention of Narumi. The others would be useful, though.

"What's happened to the rest?"

"Run away," she said. "After the king's death. Dead themselves by now, probably."

She startled when Wolfe appeared in the doorway. She studied him a long moment, emotions flickered across her face rapidly, before settling on a look of deep shame. She was self-reproachful by nature, but even more so now, as Wolfe loomed above her with his tall frame. He glared openly, and her shoulders curled inwards, as though trying to shrink into herself, trying to disappear.

She wasn't used to men looking at her. She was still clinging to her religion.

"You remember Major Rasmussen," I said.

She struggled to get the word out. "Y—es."

"Can we have a room prepared for him? Same as last time." I intended to put her to work. She'd recover herself if she kept her mind occupied. "And I suppose my room isn't ready?"

"We haven't touched your room," she said, keeping her eyes to the floor.

I laughed. Perhaps she thought it was tainted. Perhaps she thought the devil still lived within.

"Is there any tea?" I changed the subject, and she nodded. "We'll have some in the den. Wolfe?"

He followed along obediently as I lead the way, pushing the doors open to reveal the furniture all pushed aside, the carpet laid out. They must have been doing many sessions. Zelle most of all, I was sure.

We moved chairs back into their proper places and a table nearby for tea things.

"We'll do a full inspection of the house," I said to Wolfe, "then of the property. I want to get some hunting in before the week is done."