Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5) (26 page)

“Will we truly be safe eating and sleeping among your men?”

“Yes, of—” but Raymess stopped himself and took two breaths to think. “We’ll make one of the sleeping chambers just for the women.”

“And if any men try to enter?”

“You’re free to do whatever you want to them.”

“What about separate dining quarters?” Klaiya asked in an assuming tone, ready to argue if her request was denied.

Raymess sighed at her. “We only have one hall for eating, and it’s adjacent to the kitchen. You must dine among the men.”

“And if they touch us?”

“They won’t.” Raymess would hear no more. He showed her his back.

Chapter 23:

CLEVE

The air within the bunker felt dense, even more so in the dining hall. Aggression floated about. Cleve practically could smell it, although he couldn’t tell whether it came from the men’s need to fight each other for the women’s favor, or to fight Cleve and the others because they belonged to a different army.

But Cleve didn’t belong to any army. Nothing he could say would convince these men of that. They stared as he walked to a table and sat with Reela on his side and Vithos on the other.

“Is there anything you can gather from psyche?” Cleve asked.

“Let me focus on a few of them and see.” Reela took in the room, glancing around too quickly to be using anything but her eyes. Then she narrowed her glance to one man at a time, watching cautiously out of the corners of her eyes.

“It’s difficult to tell,” she said. “There are too many emotions at once. Vithos, can you sense anything?”

“Only hunger. Too much of everything else.”

Klaiya came to the other end of their table with her brother. “This is Aarlan,” she said, introducing him. “
Kleni
, this is Cleve, Reela, and Vithos.”

They nodded across the table.

“
Kleni
?” Reela inquired.

“It means brother,” Aarlan answered. He seemed to have the same mastery over common tongue as Klaiya.

“I’ve been teaching Reela and Vithos some Elvish,” Klaiya told her brother.

“You’re the half Elf!” he exclaimed, staring at Reela’s ears. “
Falea mortran wea lu
.”

“Something, death?” Reela asked, looking to Vithos. He shrugged.

“It’s an expression,” Aarlan said. “Literally, it means, ‘It’s death we haven’t met.’ Elves use death in many expressions. We’re not as frightened of it as Humans are.”

“Although not all Humans scare so easily.” Klaiya pulled on Aarlan’s arm, then pointed at Peter approaching their table. “
Kry es plan lef svio gree zor alo me remnacha
,” she whispered.

“Hear any words you recognize?” Cleve asked Reela.

She shook her head and touched his leg beneath the table. “I told you that you should’ve been learning with me. You claimed you wouldn't need it.”

“I still don’t need it. I’m just curious, especially about
remnacha
.” Klaiya had spoken the last word with soft conviction, as if it might be inappropriate for the wrong ears.

“I think she said something about Peter wanting to give his hand,” Reela said.

“Not exactly,” Vithos said with a sly grin. “But I don’t know correct word in common tongue.”

“Good evening.” Peter gestured at the empty slab of bench beside Klaiya. “May I sit here?”

“No,” she said without a smile.

For a breath, Peter only stared. It seemed as if he’d expected her to say yes, though Cleve had no idea why. Was he really that blind that he didn’t realize his efforts were pointless?

“Very well, then.” He turned on his heel and strode off.

“What does
remnacha
mean?” Cleve asked them. Klaiya and Aarlan both stifled their laughter. Then Cleve noticed some murmurs and looks from Elves at the table next to them.

“It’s a vulgar word for…” Confusion seemed to stop Aarlan. “I don’t even know the word in common tongue. It’s what women have between their legs.”

Cleve noticed Reela hiding a smile with her hand.

Now Cleve really regretted not trying to learn Elvish earlier. “So what could you have said about Peter that ended with that word?”

“I told my brother that he’s the man who would give his hand for my…
remnacha
.”

“Give his hand…is that figurative for something?” Reela asked.

“No. Cut off and offer his hand.” Aarlan held out his wrist and made a chopping motion with his other hand.

Servers began bringing trays of food around to each table. Cleve saw they’d smartly used the bananas the Elves had brought because they wouldn’t last much longer. Buttered potatoes with burnt skin appeared to be the main sustenance. Cleve knew butter and potatoes were part of the delivery, though he couldn’t tell if the ones being served were brought by his group. The same applied to the last item on his plate, dried and salted pork, thinly cut in strips.

People began cheering. Some even stood and applauded. This came as a shock to Cleve, as the portion wasn’t enough to fill his empty belly. He hoped the next meal would be bigger. He’d never known the feeling of hunger for more than a day. Even in prison, although never totally satiated, he’d always felt as though he’d had enough to keep his stomach from growling.

It made him wonder whether all prisoners were fed in the same way or whether he’d gotten special treatment from Welson. It tightened his chest to think about the King of Kyrro being murdered. With him dead, Cleve couldn’t hold onto his anger any longer, making him curious about whether he’d still have the same burning need for justice if the man were alive.

Thoughts of Welson brought him back to the people he’d left behind in his homeland. He wondered about Terren. Was his uncle part of the group traveling underground into Sumar? And what of Effie, Steffen, and Alex? He hoped they wouldn’t come across anything dangerous.

Cleve looked around for Jek. He’d given the mage the cure, but the seeds would go to waste if Jek tried growing them in the bunker.

Cleve couldn’t find him.

As he finished the last bit of food on his plate, a man came to their table to stand by its end. He had his eyes on Reela.

“Is he your beau?” He pointed at Cleve without shifting his gaze, which then fell to Reela’s breasts.

“He is,” she answered calmly.

The man twisted his neck to face Klaiya. “And are you really the leader of these men, women, and Elves?”

“Yes…” It appeared she expected another question to come.

“I see.”

Cleve watched as the man hurried back to his table filled by seven others, each with wide eyes eagerly awaiting answers.

“We probably should get used to that,” Klaiya told Reela.

“I wonder how we’re going to bathe,” Reela said.

Cleve put his hand on her leg. “I don’t think there are any baths.”

“You’re probably right. It might be better that way. Just look around the room.” She put her hand on his and squeezed. “Now that the frogs have finished their meals, their eyes show a different hunger.”

She was right. Cleve followed the gazes of many men, always finding the object of their fascination to be women at various tables.

“They want sex,” Vithos blurted.

Reela huffed. “I was trying to be subtle.”

“It won’t be long before we’re given the same green armor,” Klaiya said. “We’ll be frogs as well…at least until the battle.”

“What are the chances Waywen and Presoren won’t attack?” Reela asked.

“That they won’t attack tomorrow? Good. But the chances that they won’t attack in a week?” Klaiya made a circle with her thumb and finger. “I can’t seem to remember numbers very well.”

“Zero,” the rest of the table answered for her.

Klaiya broke into a murmur, using her fingers to count. “Zero, one, two, three, four…now I remember.”

Micah came to the end of their table. “Cleve, I’m glad to see you here.”

He stood and they shook hands.

“I'm so sorry to hear about Rek,” Micah said.

“Yes, he would’ve liked to have been here as well,” Cleve said. “This is his twin brother, Vithos, and their sister, Reela.”

“Thank you for coming. When we have the chance, you must tell me about Ovira.”

“We’d be happy to,” Reela said.

“Klaiya, will you come with me?” Micah said, surprising her. “Raymess and I would like to speak with you.”

“Do you mind if my brother comes?” She gestured at Aarlan.

“That’s fine.”

They left with Micah. Vithos stood and stretched his arms. “I’m going talk with the Elves at that table.”

“You’re going
to
talk,” Reela corrected.

“I’m going to talk with them.” Slowly, he continued. “Would…you…like…to…come?”

“That was perfect, but no thanks,” Reela answered. “Cleve and I are fine here alone.”

Vithos must’ve told a joke when he sat with the other Elves, for they burst into laughter, earning glares from the men nearby. During their long trip from the palace, Vithos had been soaking in the Elves’ history. Probably because of his imperfections with common tongue, his constant questions reminded Cleve of a child asking his parents about his heritage. Surprisingly, the Elves wouldn’t tell them anything until Cleve and Reela shared their stories first. They spent most of the time talking about Vithos, as nearly all of the questions ended up being about him. Every Elf they met wanted to know why Vithos didn’t know common tongue or Elvish fluently.

It turned out more Elves than just Fatholl had ancestors who left Meritar in Greenedge to form Merejic in Ovira, where they could live with psyche and without fear of desmarls. Additionally, Fatholl wasn’t the only one awestruck to find out Vithos’ and Reela’s father was the King of Merejic.

The more they talked about it, the more Cleve felt like it should mean something. Vithos and Rek were princes of the Elves before Doe and Haemon attacked with the Krepps. But he supposed their titles meant nothing after that. And Reela wasn’t even born a princess. The Elves were gone by the time she came into the world.

Cleve felt as though there should be something special coming to Reela and Vithos because of their royal bloodline. Yet he knew better. It meant nothing now.

The Elves in Merejic had fled. Fatholl’s pregnant mother sailed back over the Starving Ocean with the parents of many of the Elves here in the bunker. They were unable to return to Meritar, as they’d broken two rules: They’d left to live elsewhere, and they’d taken up the study of psyche. So they made their own homes, somewhere Fatholl and others wouldn’t reveal. Cleve figured there still must be Elves there, or at least something worth guarding. Otherwise there would be no point in secrecy.

The returning Elves started over once again, but this time with a goal. Either they would return to Merejic in Ovira and take back their homes, or they would exterminate the desmarls in Greenedge, ensuring the safety of their future children. Cleve was surprised they’d chosen desmarls over Krepps.

It made him proud, for Kyrro had beaten the Krepps. But Kyrro had more than ten times the army as these Elves…until the last few years. Fatholl correctly assumed they would have the ability to recruit more in Greenedge than in Ovira. The Elves trained, learned common tongue, organized, plotted, and set out not to conquer the world, but to save it. This was the speech that dispelled the last of Cleve’s doubts during his first meeting with Fatholl.

After finding out that Cleve knew the Takarys, Fatholl urged him to go with the Elves who were transporting food to Lake Mercy.

“They won’t want to accept our help,” Fatholl had said. “But with you there, they’ll see we’re not enemies.”

But when Fatholl explained the rest of his plan, Cleve refused. It was far too dangerous.

So Fatholl smartly worked to convince Reela and Vithos instead, probably figuring Reela could change Cleve’s mind if he couldn’t. The moment she showed him a begging look with her radiant green eyes, he already knew he would be going.

“You came here to make sure no armies left for Ovira,” she’d said. “This is our chance to do not only that, but to help everyone here.”

When she wanted to be, she was unfairly beautiful. She’d learned how to give Cleve a look that caused his breath to catch in his throat. Even now, with dirt on her face, in her hair, and on her clothes, she could set his heart on fire. Just the thought of it as he looked at her made something stir in his chest.

She looked at him questioningly, then took his hand. “I know it’s been a while.” Her throaty whisper made it clear exactly what she was referring to. “And I know you want to kiss me right now. I want to kiss you, too. But I think we shouldn’t while we’re here. It’ll cause too many problems. I’ve never really feared men before, but I’ve also never been somewhere like this. I can sense it among the other women. We don’t feel safe.”

We don’t have to stay
, Cleve almost blurted without thinking. “What do you think these men might do?”