by Narro, B. T.
Cleve pointed at the still unconscious man. They’d put him in a chair, his slouched body held up by ropes.
“Him,” Cleve said.
He could overhear Danvell speaking with Micah Vail in a low voice, but Cleve was too far away for their words to be clear.
“Is there anything you can do to bring a man back into consciousness?” Cleve asked.
“Nothing with psyche,” Rek admitted, kneeling next to the man for a touch to his forehead. His hand shifted to the man’s cheek, patting it roughly until his eyes popped open.
“What’s your name?” Rek asked the now frightened man.
“Podd.” He glanced around. With one eye squinted, he seemed dazed. Slowly, though, both eyes opened wider as they found Cleve. The man tried to stand, but the ropes prevented him from doing so.
Looking down, he noticed the restraints then, fear suddenly making his actions frantic as his head swung around the room and his hands tried to free themselves.
“Stop,” Rek said, reaching his palm out. “Or I’ll need to hurt you.”
Podd investigated Rek. “You’re an Elf!”
“And a psychic,” Rek told him. “So I’ll punish you if you lie.”
Podd took in a loud breath, leaning as far back as he could. The chair tipped backward, slamming into the ground. He scrambled unsuccessfully to get to his feet, reminding Cleve of a beetle that had gotten flipped onto its shell.
“Get away from me!” Podd yelled as Rek came to his side.
Rek pulled the chair back upright. Placing his hand on the man’s shoulder, he said, “Relax. There’s no need to be afraid as long as you’re honest. Can you do that?”
Podd’s struggles stopped. He lowered his head and gave a subtle nod.
“Good,” Rek said. “Now, tell me what happened here? Tell me everything you remember.”
“They attacked me and my son!” the King of Zav yelled, gesturing aggressively. “Ask him why he did it!” Then, the King quickly stepped back, making sure to keep his distance from Rek.
“You heard his question,” Rek said. “Now answer it.”
“I don’t know why,” Podd claimed. “I was just told to do it.”
“That’s a lie.” Rek held out his hand to pain the man with psyche.
Podd screamed and cursed the Elf. Cleve noticed frightened gasps and murmurs buzzing around the room.
This might not be a good idea, he was beginning to believe. Are they going to throw Rek in prison after this, perhaps exile him like the King of Kyrro did?
Rek didn’t seem to be concerned, though. He was busy making demands.
“Start at the beginning,” Rek said. “Why was this murder plot set up?”
Podd seemed defeated, giving out a slow breath before answering. “Waywen and Presoren want control of Goldram and the Bastial steel crater.” His gaze stayed on his lap with quick glances to the King of Zav between words. “We’ve been planning to take over both Goldram and Zav for years.”
“You bastard,” the King of Zav muttered. “You would’ve killed my son. You made me think we were friends. Years! I could kill you right now.”
Podd didn’t lift his head. “We were planning to release the desmarls around The Nest and attack while the Takary Army was distracted. But there were problems with the men responsible for the desmarls. Then we found out about the kidnapping of Prince Harwin and this meeting. The plan changed to kill both kings and Harwin. Based on the rumors of war starting between Goldram and Zav, it would just look like they’d attacked each other. Especially after the kidnapping, everyone would’ve believed it.”
“Is this really the truth?” The King of Zav was incredulous.
“It is,” Rek answered.
“Chaos would then ensue,” Podd continued. “Waywen and Presoren were to attack while leadership was still being decided in Zav and Danvell Takary’s son and successor, Raymess, was all the way in Chanren.”
“So, that’s why your armies have been moving,” the King of Zav realized.
“Yes. As soon as news reached Waywen and Presoren about the assassinations, they would strike.”
“I’m so sorry about the kidnapping of Harwin,” Danvell said, his low voice faint through the wall of guards. “I made a terrible mistake.”
“All of that is behind us,” the King of Zav answered.
Cleve had a question he couldn’t hold any longer. “Why weren’t they checked for knives?”
“They were,” Danvell said. “No one in this room was allowed any weapons.”
“Then how did this man come in with two of them around his ankle?” Cleve asked.
Podd answered, his voice soft from shame. “There was a guard of Goldram outside the door who was a spy for us. He hid the weapons within the palace. When I excused myself to use the bathroom, I equipped myself with them.”
“There were two guards outside the door,” Danvell said, addressing the guards between him and Rek. “What happened to Ken, who stood beside the traitor? I never saw him enter the room.”
One guard turned to address his king. “He was killed by the traitor, your highness. We were going to tell you after. His throat was slit.”
“So much death,” Danvell muttered.
Cleve suddenly felt sick, disgusted even. There were speckles of blood along his hands and arms. He wiped his cheek to find more there. He’d heard enough of this conversation. Knowing he was no longer needed, he approached Jessend.
Her eyes were lost along the marred tiles of the ground.
“I would like a bath, if that’s alright,” Cleve said.
Life came back into her face after she looked up at him. She wrapped herself around him, squeezing almost too tightly.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He felt the urge to embrace her. She’d already ruined her elegant dress by pressing against him, blood surely staining it. But he still refrained, not wanting to give her the impression that he cared for her in that way.
“We have showers here from the aqueducts,” Jessend informed him. “They are much better than a bath.” She stepped back, taking his bloody right hand with both of hers but not seeming to care. “I would like to see my sister and speak with my father. I’ll have someone take you to the showers and give you fresh clothing. I’m sure we’ll find something that can fit.”
The clothing given to Cleve made him think Jessend was playing a joke on him. But with all the recent deaths, he figured she wouldn’t do that at this time.
The pants were simple enough. They were dark blue and came with a belt dyed gold. The white undershirt was easy to figure out as well.
It was the fancy coat that confused him. It looked to be a jumbled mess of sleeves, straps, and buttons.
He tried to put his arm in what he thought to be the left sleeve, but there was a puzzling amount of extra hanging fabric, making him believe he was wearing it the wrong way. Turning it around, Cleve pulled the sleeves inside out.
Then the coat made sense to him. He slipped it on.
Why would they give it to me inside out?
But then he noticed the buttons were poking into his skin. Clearly, it was wrong. Letting out a discouraged breath, he turned it in on itself again to make it how it was before.
He tried sticking both arms in wherever they would go. But then it hung loosely from his shoulders like a torn towel. The damn thing had too many buttons, and they didn’t just go down the middle of the coat. There were long straps with buttons on them as well.
After ten minutes of failing and building frustration, he jerked open the door to find two guards stationed outside.
“How do I put this stupid thing on?” Cleve asked, incapable of fighting the irritation coming out in his voice.
The guards laughed. One took a step toward him, reaching out a hand. But he seemed to see someone over Cleve’s shoulder and stopped, stiffening his back.
A voice came from behind Cleve. “That stupid thing is only given to honored guests.” Danvell Takary had
a smile to show he wasn’t offended.
“My king.” The guards bowed their heads.
“Help him with that,” the monarch told them.
One took the longest strap and brought it diagonally across Cleve’s chest twice. He took the other strap around Cleve’s stomach and tucked it into the first one, snapping gold buttons to keep them together.
Cleve soon figured out the rest, doing the buttons himself.
“Join us for dinner, Cleve,” Danvell said. “There’s much we need to discuss. Tell me what’s happening in Kyrro. I’ve heard it from Jessend, but she’s been known to exaggerate. You don’t seem the type to do the same.”
“Kyrro is at war with the neighboring territory, Tenred,” Cleve began as he walked down the hall with Danvell. “Krepps have sided with Tenred to fight against us.”
“I knew that was true,” Danvell said. “I want to hear more about your attack on your own king’s castle.”
Oh, that.
Cleve studied the King of Goldram to get a sense of what he’d already assumed. Danvell’s tone was indifferent so far, showing no signs of derision. With a flat mouth and eyes gazing ahead steadily, his face revealed no emotions, either.
Cleve just decided to tell the truth as he remembered it.
As he described his missing bow, the meeting with the King of Kyrro, and his order to kill Rek, Cleve couldn’t pay attention to where he was being led. With guards close behind Danvell, they traveled through many hallways before reaching a stairway that led them to even more hallways.
It became clear to Cleve that he didn’t know if he was being led deeper into the palace or farther from its center. Even if he wanted to flee, he wouldn’t know which direction to go.
“So, this Elf is an enemy of Kyrro?” Danvell asked halfway through Cleve’s tale.
“No, that’s just a misunderstanding. He wants to fight with Kyrro against Tenred. That’s why we tried to speak with King Welson, to convince him of this.”
“But if he’s a psychic, then he could’ve twisted your mind into believing he was an ally.” Danvell stated it like a fact.
“There’s a lot about psyche you don’t know.”
The King stopped, showing Cleve a malignant glare. “I have many experts in all kinds of subjects. I am the King of Goldram. There is much I know that you do not, and it would be wise for you to remember that.”
At the thought of being thrown in prison, Cleve felt his eyes bulging. “I apologize.” I’d better watch my words more carefully. “What I meant was that there was a lot I thought I knew about psyche until I met Rek and Reela.”
“Reela?”
Reela…Cleve hadn’t meant to let out her name. He took a breath as he thought of how to describe her. “A psychic who’s related to Rek. They each taught me a lot, and I’m certain Rek fights for Kyrro.”
“I wouldn’t trust psychics, but if you choose to do so then that’s your decision. I won’t try to change your mind. Right now, Rek is with Micah Vail, my top adviser. The Elf has been told not to speak with me directly or to be in the same room as me. I’ll feel more comfortable about keeping him in the palace as long as these rules are followed.”
Yet your top adviser is a psychic as well, Cleve dared not say. At least not then when there was no reason to.
The King continued. “So I hope you can communicate for me if we need the Elf’s assistance.”
“I can,” Cleve said.
Two women walked by, each wearing an elegant gown embroidered with the blue soaring wings of the Takary sigil. It reminded Cleve of Jessend.
“What did Jessend tell you about me?” he asked.
“That you two are to be married,” Danvell said plainly, giving no hint he wished to say more.
“I’m confused by your indifference,” Cleve admitted, unsure what else to say to have the King elaborate.
“You’re not the first man, not even the second. I’ve been through it too many times by now. Jessend desperately wants to marry someone besides the man arranged for her on her seventeenth birthday next year. She seems happy with you, and I can tell you’ll protect her. You have the skill for me to make you into a noble warrior, so I’m not worried about your status at this point.”
The King clasped Cleve’s shoulder. “And I like you better than the rest she’s invited to my palace.” He took his hand off Cleve abruptly. “Though, you’ll have to learn better manners. I don’t know why both my daughters fall for men who know nothing of nobility. Sometimes I think it’s just to defy me.”
Cleve decided not to bring up wishing to leave at that point. Danvell’s affection seemed genuine. The last thing he wanted to do was ruin that. But he found it disconcerting that the King didn’t even seem to wonder what Cleve thought of Jessend.
They arrived at an outside garden secluded within the palace walls. It was at least twice the size of the dining hall at the Academy that Cleve attended in Kyrro, which was big enough to fit all three thousand students inside. A blood red vine decorated the stone walls surrounding them. There was just enough sun left in the sky to reach the green grass that was neatly trimmed.
Jessend was seated at a metal table. Two trees that were closer to gold than they were to brown gave her shade. A swarm of servants buzzed around, quickly setting plates and silverware at the sight of the King. Two pulled out seats for him and Cleve.
“Lisanda isn’t feeling well,” the King told Cleve as he was seated. “After that incident, I don’t think I’ll be eating much, either.”
Cleve wasn’t sure how to greet Jessend, so he let his gaze rest on her face until she gave him a clue. She smiled and nodded, so he did the same, though he could feel his smile was not as genuine as hers.
While the food was delicious, the tiring questions that continued to interrupt his chewing soon made him wish to leave as soon as possible. Though he didn’t dare let that attitude come out, and the King didn’t seem to notice it, seemingly more and more pleased with Cleve’s answers as the meal went on.
Danvell claimed he liked that Cleve had continued to train with the bow even though it was outlawed in Kyrro. He thought Cleve was courageous, modest, and even told him he wished more warriors were like him.
Jessend was unusually silent, as if the presence of her father had brought out a shyness in her that Cleve didn’t know existed.
After the last course was completed and Cleve was finally free to leave the table, darkness had set in, so a mage was needed to light their path back inside the palace.
“I’ve never seen my father take a liking to a man so quickly,” Jessend said with a proud glimmer in her eyes. “But saving our lives probably has something to do with it.” She locked her arm around Cleve’s.
He kept worrying Jessend was going to bring up their betrothal, giving him a date it was to happen. If marriage in Goldram was anything like it was in Kyrro, then a contract was signed at the end of the ceremony—a legal document that bound the man and woman together until death. Adultery was the only way out of the contract, but the guilty party would be imprisoned for breaking the marriage oath.
Cleve wanted to know if it was the same in Goldram, but he wasn’t going to ask until Jessend brought it up. Maybe she’s not in a hurry to get married.
Cleve almost laughed aloud at the absurd idea. Jessend had a cat’s confidence with the impatience of a dog. The thought of her waiting for something she wanted was harder to imagine than a child wanting to finish his chores before opening a gift.
“I want to find out what happened with my sister and Jek before I tell her about you and me,” Jessend said, then quickly continued before Cleve could ask who Jek was. “He kidnapped Prince Harwin and also Lisanda just before she was to marry someone else. I don’t know what happened while they were together, but she believes she loves him now, and she doesn’t fall in love easily.”
Like you? Cleve almost asked.
Jessend placed her other hand on Cleve’s arm, leaning against him as her walk slowed. “I even t
rust the psychic Elf more than I do Jek. But my father was considering making him the King’s Mage because his ability with Sartious Energy is the best in Goldram. I left for Kyrro before finding out what happened. I don’t know if he’s even in the palace or not. If my sister still thinks she loves him, and she finds out you and I are to be married, she might get excited about the idea of a double wedding and rush into it with Jek. I wouldn’t want that.”
Cleve felt he wouldn’t have a better opportunity than he did right then. “Don’t you think you’re rushing into this with me?”
“But I know you.” Her tone was soft, as if she was about to laugh. “I don’t think she really knows Jek.”
Cleve had to say it, no matter what it would do to her. “I’m not who you think I am.” He unhooked his arm to take hold of her shoulders, staring down at her to make sure she understood. “You act as if I’m someone else.”
“I know you’re not him.” Her tone was irritated, her mouth a flat line. But she didn’t take her eyes away from his. “You’re Cleve Polken. You stormed your own king’s castle with the psychic Elf. You’re a skilled archer who would shoot at a princess. You’re dedicated to what you believe is right, no matter how hard it is. You choose your words carefully. You’re strong and very handsome, yet I can feel your innocence. I can tell you haven’t been with a woman.”
Stunned, he let go of her while his head snapped back. No words came, not one.
Jessend looked ready to laugh. “Nothing to say?”
Cleve badly wished he was a better liar. He could tell her that he’d been with countless women, that he had less innocence than a prostitute. Then he could convince her she actually didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. But he knew she would just laugh at his attempt to prove her wrong, probably find it cute for some strange reason. So he was silent.
“I know you’re still uneasy about this,” she said. “I am too, just not as much as you.”
“You don’t seem like it.”
“I’m better at hiding things than you are.” She tugged on the straps around his fancy coat. “Come on. We’re going to my room for the night. We’ll get to know each other better.”