by Narro, B. T.
Reela looked to be in pain. She had a hand over her heart, her eyes pinched. “I can feel it, Cleve. Your memories are so strong.”
“I was saddened to hear you were back in prison,” Rek said. “What happened?”
“I can’t be in the same room with him,” Cleve said. “Every time I am, I become enraged with what he did. I can’t help but speak about it…and then he lies!” Cleve refrained from pounding the bars. “He claims over and over that my father killed his.” The words left a foul taste in his mouth.
“What?” Reela asked. “What are you saying about the King’s father and yours? I haven’t heard any of this before.”
Rek shushed her. “We shouldn’t be speaking about this so loudly.”
“I shouldn’t trouble you with it,” Cleve said.
“You’re lying,” Reela said forgivingly, “probably to yourself as well.”
Cleve sighed. “I suppose you’re right. I always told myself that was the reason I wasn’t going to share this with you, but perhaps it’s really because of how difficult it is to talk about.”
Footsteps echoed. The jailer was returning too soon.
“Your visiting time is up.”
“We’ll be out shortly,” Reela said. “Could you give us just another minute? No one will know.”
“I can, but please hurry.”
“We will,” Rek said. “Thank you.”
The jailer left.
“Cleve,” Reela began, “we were sent by Terren to find out exactly why you’re back in prison. I assume it has something to do with your father from what you said earlier?”
“My parents were killed by men hired by Welson Kimard. He’s even admitted it, yet he wants me to ignore it ever happened. He claims it was justice because my father killed his. But he has to be lying. I know my father better than anyone. He would never do that.”
“I have some information about that, which is why I came with Reela,” Steffen said.
Cleve was hopeful. “You have proof he’s lying?”
“No, I…” Steffen looked at the ground. “It’s the opposite. He’s telling the truth, Cleve. Your father really did shoot the late King.”
Cleve grabbed the bars and whispered violently, “Shut up! I don’t know what you’re trying to do.” Then Cleve realized what it must be. “The King sent you down here, didn’t he? What’s he giving you to lie to me, money?”
Steffen moved away from the bars. “Please, Cleve. I don’t want to upset you, but I think you should know. I overheard a conversation—”
“You’re lying!”
Reela put her hand on Cleve’s arm. “He’s telling the truth, Cleve. I can tell. But I don’t know what he’s talking about. He wouldn’t tell me on the way here.”
“He’s telling the truth,” Rek said.
“What is this?” Cleve backed away from the bars. “All of you are being paid by the King! I can’t believe you would do this to me.”
Reela held out her hand to him. “No, Cleve. That’s not it. Please, take hold of my hand. We don’t have a lot of time. Let me help you.”
There was nothing she could say to make him want to touch her ever again. He backed away. “Get out of here. I don’t trust any of you anymore.”
Reela’s green eyes showed deep pain. It did nothing but anger him more because he knew she had to be acting. How could they care so little about him to lie on the King’s behalf?
None of them moved.
“Go!” Cleve shouted. “Get out!”
Silently, the three of them shared glances and then slowly started down the hall. Rek looked over his shoulder. “You’re making a mistake, Cleve. You should at least listen to what Steffen has to say.”
Rek’s words sounded rehearsed. Cleve imagined them planning this whole thing. They might use psyche next to truly convince him.
He kicked the bar in front of him. “Get out, and don’t come back. I don’t want to see any of you again!” He made sure his last words were loud enough for even the jailer to hear.
He stormed back and forth in his small cell, prepared to scream more if they tried coming back. But as time went on, and all he could hear were the questions and taunts of other prisoners, he came to believe they wouldn’t need any more convincing. They were gone for good.
At first he was relieved. How could they do that to him? Was he really worth so little? He wondered how much the King had paid.
But Reela had seemed so genuine. And Cleve and Rek had gone through so much together. Doubts started hammering away at his wall of anger. A meek voice spoke in his head.
What if it’s true?
He sat on the bed with his head in his hands. He thought of his father, remembering the hundreds of hours they’d spent training in the woods. He wanted to go to Raywhite Forest and forget everything that had just happened. He wanted to walk among the trees and reminisce. His mother used to come out with them, repeating the same joke about how Cleve was going to get himself in trouble with the bow. That was long before it was outlawed.
“He should be learning magic instead.” She would wave her wand in front of him enticingly. “It’s a lot of fun. You’d be really good at it.”
His father would scoff. “Cleve doesn’t want to waste a month just learning how to produce dim light, do you, Cleve?”
Cleve started to cry. They were gone, taken by Welson.
He tried to be angry, but he couldn’t in that moment. He was too distracted. It was so strange for Steffen, Reela, and Rek to all be conspiring against him.
Could it be true? Could my father have assassinated a king?
He shouldn’t have sent them away. His stomach twisted from the pain of what he’d said to them, as he recalled their faces…the pain in Reela’s eyes as he’d shouted at her with all of his rage.
He wanted to be back at the Academy with her. That’s where he belonged. Tenred might sign the treaty, but the Krepps were a much worse enemy. He should be fighting beside his comrades, not yelling at them and telling them never to see him again.
I’m going to die in this prison cell, alone.
Chapter 23:
CLEVE
Cleve spent the rest of the day coming to believe he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life. He tried to think of some way to reach Reela and the others, some way of apologizing. But no one had been to his cell except for the jailer, and it didn’t look like that would change.
He knew eventually Terren would come to see him, though how long would it take? His uncle must be busy at the Academy. It could be a day…or twenty. The Krepps even could attack before Terren visited.
Then if the battle is lost, I won’t see any of them again.
His thoughts became more vivid as he tried to sleep. What would happen if the Krepps took over the castle? Would they go through the dungeon and shoot each prisoner through the bars?
What if they didn’t think to look in the dungeon until we’d all died from starvation? The thought sent his heart racing. Then I wouldn’t even know what had happened. The jailer would stop bringing my food and water…and that would be it for me.
Cleve would have to assume everyone he cared about had been killed if that were the case.
Killed while I was stuck in this cell instead of fighting with them.
Soon after Cleve had finished his lunch the next day, he heard multiple footsteps. He had a visitor!
Steffen cautiously approached his bars, and Cleve could’ve wept with joy if he’d allowed himself to.
“I…” Steffen paused.
“I’m so glad you’re back,” Cleve interrupted, trying to relieve the nervousness he saw on Steffen’s face. “I’m sorry for yelling.” He looked down the hall. “Did Reela come with you?”
Steffen shook his head. “She said she couldn’t go through that again. She was really hurt, Cleve.”
It pained Cleve to hear it aloud, though he knew it was true.
“I was really worried about coming,” Steffen continued. “But I did it for
your sake. I believe you want to hear what I know.”
“I do.” Cleve felt as if his heart was being torn apart at the thought of what he’d said to Steffen, Rek, and especially to Reela. “You’re very brave to come back here.”
Steffen grinned, taking a step closer to the bars. “I’m glad now that I did.” He leaned in close and lowered his voice. “Don’t tell anyone where you got this information. I know I shouldn’t have overheard it.” He waited for Cleve to nod. “When I was in the Slugari colony with…my friend who passed away.” He took a moment for a breath. “I overheard Javy Rayvender speaking with Jack Rose when they thought they were alone. They referred to a secret group of high-ranking officials. I don’t know what to call it exactly, but it was a council of sorts, one King Westin didn’t know about. It was composed of Javy, Jack, Marie…you know Marie Fyremore, right? Or…you knew of her?” He spoke sadly. “She was Effie’s instructor and the head of mages.”
“Yes, I was sorry to hear about her death.”
“Well, she was part of this group. Even Councilman Kerr was with them. I don’t know who else.”
“That’s fine, Steffen,” Cleve said to get him back to the point. “What did you hear exactly?”
“I don’t know what the purpose of this group was, but Javy and Jack were talking about something the group was responsible for. They were talking about how they killed the late King because he was going mad.”
Someone shouted, “That’s enough!”
Cleve looked through the bars to see Councilman Kerr coming into his hall from around a corner. Steffen had fallen over from the startle. He was clutching his chest as he scampered back to his feet.
“I didn’t know anyone was there,” Steffen said stupidly.
“Yes, I can’t say I’m proud of hiding, but when I overheard a hushed voice on my way to Cleve’s cell, I stopped to listen.” Kerr folded his arms and spoke in a booming voice. “I can’t believe the atrocious lies coming out of your mouth!”
Steffen seemed ready to flee, looking for a way out that wasn’t through Councilman Kerr.
The old man pointed at him. “If I ever hear you spreading rumors like that again, you’ll be arrested. Now leave.”
Steffen didn’t move, looking at Cleve with desperation in his eyes. He wanted to speak but was too frightened. Cleve knew the chemist wanted to say he’d been honest, that Kerr was lying.
Cleve nodded to show he understood. Steffen might’ve got it or might not have. His mouth twitched. Then he fled, running past Kerr without a look back.
The King’s highest-ranking staff member waited in silence, glancing in each direction. He seemed to be listening for something, perhaps other prisoners. But it was silent.
He stared intently at Cleve. In a near whisper, he said, “Your friend needs to learn how to speak quieter when divulging information that could get him killed. I can see by your face you already knew he was telling the truth.”
“I did.”
“You must realize how crucial it is that what I’m about to tell you doesn’t reach Welson Kimard.”
“I do.”
“I was planning to speak to you about this anyway. My guilt has become too much to bear. I feel it’s my fault that so much has happened to you.” He took a slow breath, closing his eyes and putting his knuckles against his forehead. “I knew this would need to come out at some point. But Welson works so hard and worries even more. He would look at this as a betrayal, then he would get rid of me and others who are helping him greatly with this war. He needs us. You must swear to me that you won’t speak of this.”
“I swear it.”
“I knew your father very well. I believe I can trust you for this reason.”
“You can. Please, tell me what you know.” Or what you did. Cleve kept the accusation to himself.
“When Welson’s father became king, I decided it was in Kyrro’s best interest to have a separate council that whoever was on the throne wouldn’t know about. The intent was to prevent what happened with the ruler before Westin, Rinn Takary. None of the Takarys have ruled well here in Kyrro, but Rinn was one of the worst. It was tyranny under his command. Rinn exercised arbitrary demonstrations of power. He had no concept of fair and just ruling. Sometimes he’d behead a man for a disdainful look. Other times he’d let murderers out of prison if a family member offered a bribe. He tried to attack Tenred, negating the treaty that his father, Jinn Takary, had been forced into. But Rinn badly lost and signed the pact once again. Rinn’s poor leadership was the reason I got involved in politics. Many of us wanted a new leader, and Welson’s father was charismatic and rich—which turns out to be the only prerequisites needed.” He laughed.
“You were with Westin Kimard before he became king?”
“Yes. I was his most trusted ally and friend, which made what happened to him that much more difficult for me.” Kerr clasped his hands together tightly. “This secret council was just precautionary. We had no intentions of taking any action against our own king. We just wanted the pieces to be in place in case we needed to. We only gathered once a year unless a meeting was called sooner. Westin had four good years before things began to change. He started making questionable decisions, so we began to meet more frequently to discuss our concerns. The King was fearful his power would be taken from him, as that was how each king had lost the throne before him. An army would gather, first in secret until the group was strong enough to come out into the open and recruit others. Westin constantly believed an army was gathering that he didn’t know about.”
“Was there one?” Cleve asked.
“No. And we told this to him over and over. The people were happy with him…until paranoia took over and it became clear to everyone he valued the Kimard family name over the rest of Kyrro. Times were quite different back then. Psychics were just starting to become known as a fourth class besides warriors, chemists, and mages. During Westin’s fourth year as king, he began the construction of the Academy. In retrospect, I believe the choice was the beginning sign of his paranoia. He wanted his own elite army. But no one saw it as a selfish decision at the time, for he was providing a place for everyone to train who had some skill with Bastial Energy. He even planned to offer many of these people jobs after their three years were up. It was quite ingenious.”
“He was the king who kept Rek in the castle, wasn’t he?”
“Yes, Rek came into Kyrro on a wolf’s back during Westin’s third year ruling. His initial intentions with Rek were good. He was going to let his staff take care of the young Elf in hopes they could learn more about his kind. We knew they were on the northern end of the continent but had no official contact with them. Travelers would tell stories, and there were a few books about them, but that was it. When Rek’s father used psyche that was incomparable to what our psychics could do, Westin figured Rek could be just as powerful. He looked at the little Elf as the key to figuring out psyche.” Kerr’s thin eyes opened wide. “In some ways, he was right. Psychics worked with Rek every day. By the time he was fourteen, he was already the strongest psychic known to us. Did Rek tell you this already?”
“He shared some of his experiences within the castle, but we’ve always been too busy with other concerns to discuss it in detail.”
“After what Westin did to Rek’s father—having guards beat him and banish him from the city—concerns began to develop. But remember, that was only his third year ruling. His paranoia started very slowly, only showing itself in moments of desperation at first. Westin ruled for seven years in total. By the sixth year, we were in agreement that he wasn’t fit to lead any longer. But what we couldn’t agree upon was what to do about it. It was only when Westin’s intentions with his son became clear that the discussion of assassination really began. Westin had started to teach Welson terrible ruling strategies—fear, violence, insatiable greed of power.” Kerr’s face twisted more with each word. “We knew we had to stop him before it was too late.”
“Was my father on this c
ouncil?” Cleve asked, not taking the time to figure out what he felt yet.
“He wasn’t one of the founding members, but we did recruit him during Westin’s last year. We…wanted someone skilled with long-range shooting.”
Cleve suddenly felt nauseous. He held his hand up for Kerr to stop as he keeled over, worried he was going to retch. He felt Kerr’s hand on his back as the councilman reached through the bars. Cleve fought back the bile, stood, and took a deep breath.
“When the council began, there were only five of us: me, my wife, Marie Fyremore, Jack Rose, and Nick Tarcos,” Kerr continued.
“I didn’t know you were married.”
“Riata and I wed the same year that Westin came to power and the secret council was formed. But she died just one year later from illness.”
“I’m sorry.”
He nodded, his eyes reflecting his grief.
“Riata was my grandmother’s name,” Cleve said. “She died before I was born.”
Kerr showed Cleve a reserved grin. “That’s the same woman I’m talking about.”
“What?” Cleve blurted. “Does that mean…we’re…?” He pointed back and forth between himself and the councilman. “Wait a moment, she was married to Clint Polken. I don’t think we’re talking about the same woman.”
Kerr laughed. “We are. She married me after Clint passed away. Do you know how your grandfather died?”
Cleve remembered then. He could feel everything coming together. “In the battle that brought Westin to power. So you three knew each other?”
“I got to know him and Riata very well. I didn’t care much for him, though. He was abusive to her physically. He kept his hands off your father, but not Riata. She and I…found comfort in each other’s company.”
“Bastial hell, I knew none of this. So that’s how you got to know my father?”
“Yes, and in the same way Dex didn’t talk about this, he never would’ve told you about the council or what he did. I’m sure he was just waiting for you to be older. You were so young when he died. Ten, right?”
“Yes.”