Bastial Steel (3 page)

“My betrothed shouldn’t be crawling out of carriages.” Jessend giggled. Her laugh was deep, lower than her voice even. It erupted from her stomach with a strong rhythm.

The rest of her retinue started passing through the gate, lowering for a bow or a curtsy as they went by the Princess.

“Twist me horn, look at this place!” Captain Mmzaza got down on both knees and kissed Jessend’s left foot. “Thank you, me pretty. Captain Mmzaza’s been to Goldram before, but never inside the Takary Palace.” He clumsily rose to his feet, nearly losing his balance.

Cleve wondered how the man had gotten so drunk when Cleve hadn’t seen any alcohol.
Or was he captaining the ship in that state?

“Is me bed big, and does it come with a woman?” Captain Mmzaza let out a cackle. “Just a joke. Captain Mmzaza can find his own woman.”

Jessend had a frozen smile. “Thank you for sailing my father’s ship. You’re welcome to walk about The Nest and stay in Goldram as long as you’d like, but I regret to tell you that I cannot offer you a room within the palace.” She waved a guard over, going to her toes to whisper something in his ear.

Captain Mmzaza’s head went so low, his chin nearly touched his chest.

A strong feeling of pity surprised Cleve. The old captain had been nothing short of irritating during every conversation they’d shared, but Mmzaza so desperately wanted to be in the palace that Cleve couldn’t help but feel remorseful.

“This guard will make sure you’re paid for your service,” Jessend said. “You can follow him into the palace and take a tour.”

Now, Cleve’s pity was for the guard who had to spend the day with Captain Mmzaza.

“Thank you, me pretty! Captain Mmzaza’s just happy he gets to see it.”

Cleve decided to really look at the palace, being likely he’d be there for some time. It was quite magnificent, putting the castle in Kyrro City to shame.

The palace wasn’t as tall as Welson Kimmard’s castle, but ten castles could fit within it if they were turned on their sides. It was mostly white, with gold decorations along the pillars and walls.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jessend said with a soft voice. “This is where I was going to tell you we’re to be married, if you were more patient when we were leaving Kyrro.”

“How big is it?” Cleve asked, unwilling to allow the topic of matrimony to continue.

“About a square mile. I’ll make sure you don’t get lost.” Cleve looked down at Jessend to find her smiling up at him.

“So this is the famous Takary Palace.” Rek came up with a hand to Cleve’s shoulder. “And what am I to do here?” His tone was polite. Cleve assumed he was just happy not to be gagged or confined to a room.

“I’m sure my father or his adviser will have some idea,” Jessend answered confidently. She pointed to the marble steps ahead. “That’s my father’s adviser right there. Micah Vail is his name.”

The man’s hair was black and straight, hanging down over his forehead and ears. There was an eerie contrast to the way he walked compared to his age. He seemed young, certainly no older than thirty. Yet, his carefully placed feet down each step showed a sense of purpose and duty as if he’d worked the same job for twenty years.

“He’s a close friend to our family,” Jessend said.

Micah Vail knelt down before Jessend when he was close. “I’m so happy to see you’ve returned safely, Princess.”

“Micah, you’re embarrassing me,” Jessend said, letting out a light laugh. “Get up and hug me like usual.”

He smiled and obeyed.

“And who are these two…” Micah’s face showed shock when his eyes met Rek’s.

Jessend laughed loudly. “I think that’s the first time I’ve seen you surprised, Micah. Yes, I brought an Elf.”

But Micah’s eyes hadn’t even glanced at Rek’s ears yet. In fact, only after Jessend mentioned Rek’s race did they sway to the side for a look. His head snapped back even farther then.

He was surprised about something else the first time,
Cleve realized, now examining Rek to see if he could figure out what it was. That’s when Cleve noticed the Elf’s expression. His head was low, bent subtly to the side to look deep within Micah with psyche.

“Jessend?” Rek spoke in a curious tone. “Didn’t you tell me you’ve never met a psychic before?”

“I thought you said you had a good memory,” Jessend teased him. “Yes, I told you I thought they were a myth until I went to Kyrro.”

Rek gestured toward Micah. “But this man—” Rek was interrupted by his own scream, dropping to a knee.

Jessend hurried over to him. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Rek had an angry glare at Micah. “It was nothing,” he muttered.

“Jessend.” Micah turned toward her, holding his smile the entire time. “Would you mind if I took this Elf with me into the palace? I would like to speak to him.”

Jessend seemed too confused to answer.

Cleve knew what had happened, though. Yet, what he still couldn’t figure out was why Micah Vail was hiding that he was a psychic.
This place might be dangerous for Rek.

“I was hoping you would speak with Rek, anyway,” Jessend admitted. “He’s very powerful and can be of use to us.”

“Thank you, Lady Jessend.” Micah nodded and motioned for Rek to follow him.

The Elf shrugged at Cleve and hurried after the king’s adviser.

“That was strange,” Jessend said. “Are you ready to see your new home?”

A woman’s excited scream caught Cleve’s attention. “Jessend!”

It must’ve been her sister. They looked too much alike for it not to be. She was running to meet them at the gate.

“I’m so glad you’re back. Who’s this huge man?” Stopping a few steps from Cleve, the other woman intertwined her wrists and leaned forward toward him.

“This is Cleve.” Jessend slapped him in the stomach and kept her hand there for a rub, making him feel like a pig being marketed on the street.

“He looks like—”

“I know,” Jessend interrupted. “Cleve, this is my twin sister, Lisanda.”

He extended his hand for her to shake. She took it awkwardly, looking to Jessend with a pressed grin, her hand dead weight in his.

“He doesn’t know much about nobility, does he?” Lisanda teased.

“You should’ve seen him crawling out of my side of the carriage.”

They each giggled.

“Speaking of inappropriate behavior,” Jessend said, “what happened with Jek? Did stubborn Father make him the King’s Mage after all?”

Lisanda’s mouth became a flat line with no trace of her recent smile. “A lot has happened. I’ll tell you later.” Her tone was grave. “Come inside. I’m sure Father wants to see you. He’s been eager to hear how many men you’ve brought from Kyrro.” Lisanda glanced around. “But is this the only one who came to fight for us?”

Jessend sighed. “Kyrro is at war, and a Takary no longer controls it. I was only able to bring two, but wait until you see how good Cleve is with a weapon in his hand and the power of the psychic Elf. He’s with Micah right now. Father might be pleased if he’s not too frightened.”

Lisanda gasped. “A true psychic?”

“Yes. There are many of them in Ovira. But this one is the strongest of them all.” Jessend wore a proud smile.

“And you said he’s an Elf?” Lisanda seemed to be holding back a squeal.

“Yes. Let’s go, beautiful.” Jessend took her sister’s hand, wrapping her other arm around Cleve’s and pulling them both toward the palace. “There’s too much to do to be standing here any longer.”

After a few steps, Jessend pulled on Cleve’s shoulder, forcing his head lower.

Expecting a whisper, he was shocked when she pressed her lips against his cheek for a kiss.

Didn’t Jessend tell me her father might be able to send help back to Kyrro?
“If I was brought here to fight, what about the mention of your father’s army being sent overseas to fight for Kyrro?”

Jessend was hopping up the stairs to the palace door two at a time, stopping abruptly the moment Cleve finished his question.

“I don’t know too much about my father’s army,” she said. “He keeps that from me. But I meant that after we win this war, they might be able to help Kyrro.”

Frustration twisted within him.
She talks about war like a child would, as if it were some sort of game with a clear beginning and ending.

Cleve thought to ask about this war but realized that question would be better for her father, or really anyone else besides her.

They finished climbing the stairs in silence. Once Jessend had her arm hooked within Cleve’s, the guards politely avoided eye contact with him.

“Father’s meeting with the King of Zav,” Lisanda told her twin.

“Oh, I would like to meet him as well—the man’s likely to be our enemy in war,” Jessend added.

“I don’t,” Lisanda said. “But if you’re going, then I’ll join you.”

“Cleve, promise you’ll behave?” Jessend smiled to show she was teasing him. Her tone was as if they were old friends.

Cleve didn’t understand the joke. “Yes,” he muttered.

“You should’ve seen how I met Cleve,” Jessend said. “He stormed into his own king’s castle with thousands of rats, and then he shot at me with his bow, breaking mine in two. It was an amazing shot.”

Lisanda peered around Jessend to show Cleve a skeptical look. “My sister likes to make things more dramatic than they really are. How did you two really meet?”

“It’s true!” Jessend squawked.

They’d crossed the long entrance hall by then, its marble floor decorated with blue outstretched wings in the center. A group of servants met Lisanda by the base of a set of curved stairs.

“Anything we can get for you, my lady?” The servants each lowered their heads.

“Thank you, but not at this time.”

Cleve hadn’t had a good meal in too long, but he didn’t feel right bringing it up. The sisters seemed to be in a hurry to get to this meeting, Jessend hiking up the stairs two at a time again.

“I’ll tell you the whole story later,” she told Lisanda. “When did the meeting begin?”

“Just now.”

The floor of the entire palace seemed to be tiled in marble. With its tall walls and curved ceiling painted white, the place was a little too colorless. Though, it did bring out the garish designs on the clothing of the few people walking about who weren’t guards or servants.

Jessend had brought many different garments to Kyrro, wearing something different each day on the ship. But it seemed that she’d saved the most elegant dress for this day.

It was dark blue with a light pink ribbon around her waist. A gold chain was about her neck, hanging low against her skin. The sleeves of her dress were slightly transparent, giving sight to her slender arms.

It was probably the least practical dress Cleve had ever seen. He assumed getting it caught on the corner of a table could rip it. However, he didn’t imagine that happening to Jessend. The way she moved was too practiced. She seemed aware of every motion of her body, even more so than many warriors Cleve had met.

There were two guards outside the door of the meeting room. Jessend tilted her head at the one on the left. “Are you new?”

“Yes, my lady.” The guard shifted nervously.

“I wish to learn your name and how you came into this position,” Jessend said, her tone now commanding. “But it must be some other time. We’re in a hurry.” She motioned toward the door.

The new guard she was addressing put out his hand to stop her. “My lady, I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go inside.”

The other guard smacked him hard in the chest, his chain mail ringing like a dull chime. “It’s fine,” the veteran guard corrected him. “And not your place to say otherwise.”

The new guard furrowed his brow. “I really would advise against it.”

The one who’d smacked him sighed. “Please excuse his ignorance, my lady. You can go on in.” He opened the door behind him, stepping inside to introduce the Princesses Jessend and Lisanda Takary.

Cleve entered behind them, immediately embarrassed about his drab and frayed clothing. Bright colors invaded his senses like a hurricane passing through a sea of paint.

There were two men on one side of the table. One of them had to be the King of Zav based on his crown. Beside him was a little boy, probably seven or eight years old by the look of him. Cleve didn’t know who the other man was, the King of Zav’s servant or adviser most likely.

On the other side of the table was Jessend’s father, the King of Goldram. Cleve knew from the blue wings embroidered on his shirt and the crown on his head.

“I apologize for this interruption,” the King of Goldram said.

“No troubles,” the ruler of Zav answered in a tone that Cleve thought was too friendly for them to be enemies. “Are these your daughters, Danvell?”

“They are. Jessend here has just come back from a trip over the Starving Ocean.” Danvell stepped toward his daughter with a relieved smile. “I’m happy to see you’re home safely.” They shared an embrace. The King’s accent was just like Jessend and Lisanda’s, rhythmic, as if the words were elegantly dancing their way through the air.