Fourteen

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After waking to the sound of birdsong outside the window, I pad down the hall to find the man who hugged Sol last night upon our arrival sitting at the long dining table, sipping on a steaming mug of breakfast tea. A blush rises to my cheeks when he introduces himself. Apparently, Eli returned home last night after I was asleep. Embarrassed at not connecting the two, I slip into silence. That is, until Coen and Clive approach and talk me into eating a breakfast of delicious eggs and cornmeal, mixed with half-sweet-half-tart berries. I have never tasted anything like it in all of my eighteen years, but I am glad they made me try it. If there is one thing I am thankful for in the Outlands, it's the endless opportunities to experience things I had never even dreamed of.

With the sun just risen, the air is cool as the people of Keir give us unabashed attention on the short walk to Summus Aspen's quarters. The streets are filled with blatant stares and awed lips, and I don't think I will ever enjoy the feeling of so many eyes on me. It makes me want to shrink into my skin and disappear without anyone noticing. Sol's presence alone is keeping me from becoming immobile as a statue. Her husband, Eli, walks beside her.

We reach the doors of the building from last night where Sol reunited with her friends. My stomach is all twisted up with thoughts of what I will find inside. Sol takes Eli's hand, and he pulls her to his side, a support both physical and emotional.

I surprise myself by grasping the door handles and wrenching them open, almost eager to get it over with. The wooden door creaks as it did last night, and I catch a dizzying episode of deja vu. The anticipation is making me nauseous.

The conference tables are once again filled with advisors, but the air in the room is different from last night. The Outlander's faces are politic. The mood is so serious, I almost miss the man on the dais at the front of the room.

"Summus Aspen," Sol breathes.

Sitting tall on a throne of stone, the man inclines his head at our entry, his face an unreadable mask of stoicism.

"You've returned," he speaks, his voice echoing through the room. Everyone is silent as the wind, rapt. He peers at me boldly. "And you've brought a guest."

"I have," Sol says cautiously. She motions for me to step forward, and my stomach plummets. I didn't think I'd have to speak directly to him so soon. I clear my throat, giving me an extra second to organize my thoughts. I don't want to sound too accusatory, but I don't want to sound weak, either. I take a breath, and hope to not embarrass myself.

"I am from Herald. Three days ago, Outlanders breached our wall, engaged in combat with our military, and kidnapped a girl. I followed them into the Outlands, where I learned that your people are likely the ones who took my friend." I pause, attempting to gauge his reaction, but he doesn't allow any emotion to slip. "I am asking you to return her to me, so that we may be on our way."

Instead of feeling relief for getting through with my appeal, the knot my stomach tightens. Even worse than speaking to the Summus is waiting for his reply.

He regards me with a keen eye, dissecting every detail of my features. I feel my skin crawl where his eyes descend. The tension in my shoulders intensifies with my anxiety. I don't know how I've kept from collapsing under his gaze for so long.

"What is your name?" He asks, tone revealing nothing.

Uhh... "Sophie," I all but stammer. The corner of his mouth lifts.

Am I hallucinating, or did Summus Aspen just grin? I turn to Sol, her eyes narrowed conspicuously. What did she make of his reaction?

"You know of the Skinwalkers," he says, his face back to his serious character. It's not a question.

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