by Narro, B. T.
“I’m sorry,” she told him. Turning to the innkeeper, she asked, “Do you know of any nobles we might speak to about finding the Takarys?”
“I’m afraid I don’t.”
Cleve found his voice. “Why are the docks abandoned?”
“Fatholl’s army has been taking towns all over Greenedge. His Elves march in, and sometimes they force everyone out. Other times they don’t ask anyone to leave. It’s still yet to be known what Fatholl has planned.”
“Archer shoot at me when we near docks,” Vithos said. “Why?”
“Was it a Human or an Elf who shot at you?”
“I no see.” He made a whistling sound and used his hand to imitate arrows landing near him. “They shoot lots, so I run.”
The innkeeper shrugged. “Could be scavengers looking for goods people have left behind. Many people are angry at Fatholl about what’s been happening, so of course they’d shoot at an Elf. But it also could’ve been someone allied with the Takarys who perceives you as an enemy. There’s no way to know. But it’s a good lesson, isn’t it? Wherever you go, you’d better be careful. You should try to hide those ears if you can.” With a grimace, he wagged his finger. “Any of you have a hat?”
“We don’t,” Reela said in disappointment.
“Well, I would sell you mine, but I’ve only got one. There still should be a tailor somewhere in the city. Though…could be they’re all in the north by now.”
“We’ll figure out something.” Reela stood and walked to a nearby window. She peeled back the curtain, revealing that night had come. She turned to meet Cleve’s eyes. Whether it was psyche or just the familiar twist of her mouth, he could tell what she was thinking. He nodded to show he agreed.
She turned and asked the innkeeper, “May we rent two rooms for a night?”
“Certainly.”
Chapter 7:
CLEVE
Cleve felt despair softening him, making him weak and hopeless. A difficult task he could endure. But what was he to do when there wasn’t a task for him to figure out in the first place? How could he help Jek and the Takarys if he didn’t know where they were? He sat slumped on the bed, desperately trying to figure out what to do.
Reela came in to their room wrapped in a towel, her hair wet and dark. Cleve’s heart jumped at the sight of her, clean and nearly naked. Her shins seemed to reflect the light of the lamps. Her curves shaped the towel in a way that made Cleve wish for nothing more than to remove it.
Reela stood in front of the mirror, brushing her hair. Cleve came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning down to smell her hair and kiss her neck. She set the brush down and turned to meet his lips.
But before they could settle into the kiss, she pulled away. “There’s a lot we need to figure out before the morning,” she said. “Unless you’ve already devised a plan?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea,” Cleve replied. “But there’s certainly no chance I can think of anything right now.” His gaze roamed her body.
When his eyes returned to her face, she had a look of regret. “I’m of the opposite mindset. Until we know what we’re doing, I can’t think of anything else. You should take a bath…maybe a cold one.”
His heart sank as she kissed his cheek and returned to brushing her hair. He trudged off to the bath.
As Cleve scrubbed the dirt from his body, his worries returned. Reela was right. They had to come up with a plan.
He started with what he knew. They needed to find out where the Takarys had gone and what they were doing. He also needed to know what Fatholl’s intentions were. An idea formulated as he dried himself.
Re-entering their room, he saw that Vithos had come in to speak with her. They looked to Cleve expectantly, both with the same almond-shaped eyes.
“I don’t think Vithos and I can figure out what to do,” Reela said sadly. “We don’t know anything about Goldram or even this city like you do. Have you come up with anything?”
“I have.” Their desperation was gone in an instant. They looked eager…until he added, “But I don’t think either of you are going to like it.”
Turning to each other, the siblings wore identical frowns.
“I have a feeling I know what you’re going to say,” Reela said sullenly. “It was the only idea Vithos and I could come up with, but both of us hate it.” She took in a slow breath. “We need to visit the palace, don’t we?”
Cleve nodded. “It’s the only way to find out what we need to know. We don’t have any allegiance toward either side, as far as Fatholl knows.”
“Except you care about the Takarys,” Reela said. “Which means Vithos and I care about them as well. Fatholl or the other psychic Elves might be able to sense this when they question us. And what do you hope to accomplish by speaking to them? Do you expect them to tell us where the Takarys are without wondering why we want to know? We won’t be able to lie to them.”
“We wouldn’t need to lie. We want to find Jek Trayden so we can give him the evesal seeds. We want to rid the continent of desmarls just like Fatholl does—doing so would mean the Takarys wouldn’t need to take Kyrro. We have no desire to kill Fatholl or fight against him. All of those things are true.”
“You right,” Vithos said. “But Fatholl still no help us without us help him. He will want something.”
“I’m willing to find out what that is if both of you are.”
Reela had a sour look. “I suppose it’s either this or we find some way back to Ovira. But we didn’t come this far just to run away after finding out how difficult and dangerous it would be. Some part of me already knew what we were getting into. If we must speak to Fatholl, then that’s what we’ll do. But I wonder how we’ll even get inside the palace.”
“I have a feeling they’re going to want to speak to us, especially after they see Vithos.”
The Elf pinched one of his ears and playfully wiggled it. “True.” He stood and let out his breath, clearly showing how tired he was. “So it’s settled, right?”
Cleve waited for Reela, Vithos turning to her as well. She looked back and forth between them before nodding. “I think I’m going to keep my ears pinned back, though, at least until we know more.”
Vithos said goodnight and retired to his room. With a plan in place, Cleve suddenly was overcome with his desire for Reela. He happily removed his shirt and lay down beside her. As he put his arm over her stomach, she turned and pressed her back against his chest.
He waited for some sort of sign of her thoughts.
When she said nothing, he lightly kissed her neck. She took a quick breath. Taking it as a cue, he held her tighter against him and ran his fingers lightly down her body.
“You’re not worried about tomorrow?” she asked as her hand came up to fist in his hair.
“My worries and fears are buried beneath my thoughts of you. I know exactly where they are, so they’ll never be lost.”
“You always talk about feelings as if you’re a mound of dirt and all possible fears and desires are constantly within you, some on the surface, some very deep.”
“You don’t feel that way?” Cleve asked.
She chuckled. “No, and I don’t think most people do. But I like that about you. You’re different.”
“So how do you think of feelings?” Cleve pressed his fingers against her shoulder, kneading. Then he ran his hand across her collarbones, barely resisting going lower.
She moaned. “That feels wonderful. And that’s how I think of feelings, not as something constantly there but something that can be triggered. Your touch makes me feel a certain way. It doesn’t dig up a feeling that’s already there.”
Cleve couldn’t disagree more. “But if a stranger touched you in this way, it wouldn’t evoke the same feelings. So there must be a connection between us that’s already within you, waiting to be awakened. You’re part of me, and I’m part of you. Sometimes my feelings lie dormant, other times they burn red hot.” He moved his hand lo
wer, caressing the top of her bosom.
She rolled over and gave him a searing kiss. With a coy grin, she asked, “And right now, is it lying dormant or burning hot?”
“It’s practically scorching my body from the inside out.”
When she kissed him again, he felt as if his chest would collapse if he didn’t have her. And when she sat up and pulled her nightgown over her head, Cleve almost came undone. The moment her creamy skin was exposed, his hand and mouth covered her breasts, and she gasped in pleasure.
She cupped his cheeks and brought his lips to hers again as she climbed onto his lap. When Cleve scooted down to stretch out on the mattress, Reela slid on top of him and aligned her most sensitive parts with his. Slowly, methodically, she began to move.
Soon, as her pleasure built, she ached to feel his skin on hers. She frantically yanked down his pants and underwear, then kissed her way up his stomach…then his chest…then his neck. He filled his hands with her well-rounded rear and squeezed.
As she sealed her lips over his, he filled her with one quick thrust. Reela groaned and bucked her hips. Soon, she was biting her lip to keep from crying out.
“Is that good?” Cleve asked, even though he already knew the answer.
“Yes,” she said, breathing heavily now.
As she rose and fell above him, Cleve thought she was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen, absolute perfection. For some time, he just watched her move and relished the sensations surging through him.
He fondled her breast and felt himself losing control. Reela said nothing but his name, and he could tell she was getting close, too. Cleve’s whole body was as taut as the string of his bow, and he ached for release. He rolled her beneath him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. They both fell over the edge.
He collapsed on top of her afterward, and they struggled to bring their breathing back to normal. When he finally could lift his head, Cleve kissed her closed eyes, her nose, her lips.
It wasn’t long before Reela was sound asleep, cradled in Cleve’s embrace. He listened to the rhythmic sound of her slumber, which usually soothed him. But tonight he could only worry about what the morning would bring.
Chapter 8:
CLEVE
Reela slept later than Cleve and Vithos. They had the horses outside and ready to leave by the time she began her breakfast. She forced herself to eat quickly, later telling Cleve that she hadn’t been hungry. The fear of meeting Fatholl apparently was too heavy on her thoughts.
Riding through the city, they drew the gazes of everyone they passed. After noticing Vithos’ ears, each watcher would turn away. The Nest didn’t become more crowded the closer they came to the center like it had when Cleve was last here. In fact, when the palace came into sight, it seemed as if all the buildings nearby were abandoned.
Elves guarded the exterior of the grand centerpiece to the city, the old home of the Takary family. The Elves were the only ones who seemed uninterested when they glanced over and found Vithos.
“They must think you’re one of them,” Cleve said.
“Yes,” Vithos said, “we go with thought long as we can. But remember even I and Reela cannot success lie to very powerful psychic.”
A gate surrounded the massive palace. When the trio got close, Elves nodded to Vithos, said something in Elvish, and opened it to let them in.
Easy so far, Cleve thought.
At the base of the stairs to the palace entrance, two Elves came to take their mounts. At the top, another Elf opened the massive palace doors. Vithos led them in, and the doors were shut with a boom behind Cleve.
“What now?” Vithos whispered.
“Let’s look around,” Cleve said, nervous and eager, like he was about to explore a cave where treasure was rumored to be buried. “But you stay in the front, Vithos. We want them thinking you’re in charge.”
“Alright, I go.”
He brought them through the entrance hall, where the Takary crest of blue soaring wings still covered the center of the marble floor. At least the Elves left it, Cleve thought. Perhaps they aren’t angry with the Takarys. He still knew nothing of Fatholl, but he figured that would change by the end of the day.
On the second floor, Cleve was surprised to find palace workers buzzing about, just like when he was here last. Even more surprising, they were all Human, and he thought he recognized one or two of them, though he couldn’t be sure. They kept their eyes downcast as his party passed.
“We’d better make sure to remember the way out,” Reela whispered as they came through an empty hall. Cleve had always hated how large the palace was. It was too easy to get lost.
“Is that you, Cleve Polken?” a familiar voice asked.
He turned to find Gerace, his former server. Jessend’s as well, he reminded himself.
“It’s nice to see you, Gerace.”
Her mouth opened in a bright smile. “You remembered how to say my name. I thought you would come back. Are you with Fatholl now?”
Was she worried or pleased? He couldn’t tell anything from her indifferent tone.
He looked around before answering. No one seemed to be close enough to hear. “Could we speak somewhere private?”
Her smile flattened. “Why?” The teenager looked ready to flee at the slightest startle.
“You can help answer some questions.”
“I can answer your questions here. But there isn’t much that I know. The guards might be better at answering any questions you may have.” Her eyes shifted to Vithos.
Cleve decided to risk it. “Do you know where the Takarys are?”
She shook her head with a stiff neck, like she was trying to send a message for Cleve to quit asking.
Two Elves with swords on their hips and chainmail covering their chests came around the turn. Gerace froze as she stared at them, looking as guilty as a child who’d just thrown a ball through a glass window.
The Elves stopped to glare at her inquisitively. “What’s wrong?” one asked.
“Nothing,” she lied.
Their beady eyes shifted to Vithos. “Who are these Humans?” one asked him.
Vithos spoke with slow consideration. “They…must…see…Fatholl.” He did well to hide his accent. But then they each asked a question at the same time.
“For what reason?”
“Is he expecting them?”
Reela blurted, “We wish to rid the continent of desmarls, and we were hoping to meet Fatholl. It would be an honor.”
Gerace promptly left with a curious look back at Cleve.
Why is she still in the palace when the Takarys were forced out? Doesn’t she care about them? Then he realized she probably was wondering the same about him.
“What’s wrong with you?” an Elf asked Vithos. “You know Fatholl is too busy to personally meet with new recruits.”
“I am sorry,” Vithos said slowly.
The Elves shared a concerned glance. One said something in Elvish, and the other replied. They turned to Vithos with a different look than before, harder, colder. One asked him something in Elvish. When Vithos didn’t answer, the Elf repeated the same question, this time louder as he drew his dagger.
“Please.” Reela held out her hands and stepped forward. “He doesn’t know Elvish. The three of us are from Kyrro.”
Their eyes went wide as Elvish flowed from their mouths. They spoke to each other hastily, both seeming to ask questions without receiving answers. Another pair of Elves came down the hall. Soon all four were clamoring in Elvish and gesturing at Cleve’s party.
One of the newly arrived Elves stopped everyone with a hand gesture and appeared to ask Vithos a question.
“I no speak Elvish,” he replied.
“What kind of Elf doesn’t speak Elvish?”
“I speak Kreppen and some common tongue.”
That confused the four of them even more. They began to argue. Eventually, Cleve whispered to Reela, “Can you tell anything from psyche?”
&n
bsp; “I’ve been trying to detect aggression, and it hasn’t come yet. They don’t have any plans to hurt us, but they certainly are confused.”
Another Elf came down the hall and joined the others. The sound of their language was soft and rhythmic. It made Cleve think of an exquisite signature, illegible yet beautiful.
It wasn’t long before there were ten Elves in the hall, now arguing and gesturing at them. Cleve waited patiently, watching Reela’s face for what she was picking up from psyche. She didn’t seem nervous, so Cleve tried not to be either.
Eventually, the Elves seemed to come to an agreement. “Follow us,” one said.
“To where?” Reela risked asking.
“To see Fatholl.”
Then the nervousness came to Reela’s eyes that Cleve had been watching for. In turn, he felt it churning in his stomach.
He whispered to Reela, “It might be best if you speak for us. You don’t have the same allegiance toward the Takarys that I do, which Fatholl might sense.”
“Right,” she whispered back. “I’ll just try to get an idea how to find the Takarys. Then we can leave.” She made it sound easy.
The Elves brought them outside a double wooden door and knocked. A voice from inside called out in Elvish, and one of the Elves accompanying Cleve’s group replied with a long statement. Cleve recognized the word “Kyrro,” but that was it.
There was a pause.
“Kyrro?” the voice from within asked.
The Elf beside Cleve spoke another long statement.
Again they waited. Finally, the voice answered, this time in common tongue. “Bring them in here.”
The Elves opened the doors, revealing a lavish meeting hall. Two extended couches with golden threaded cushions and decorative armrests laid a path to a commanding golden throne. Upon it sat an Elf with silver hair, his face both youthful and wise. As he rose, his Elves got up from the couches.
It had to be Fatholl.
“Who are you?” he asked the three of them, his boots clicking against the marble floor as he approached. The guards shifted to encircle Cleve, Reela, and Vithos in case they gave a wrong answer. “You’ve told these men that you’re from Kyrro, correct?”