Bastial Steel (8 page)

He found comfort in the feeling of Jessend’s arms holding on to him, knowing she felt the same way he did. The Princess wrapped her legs around him as well.

His weeping calmed, his tears stopping with it. But he still could feel her hot tears rolling onto his shoulder as she nestled her head into him. She didn’t seem to be recovering in the same way he was.

“Don’t hate yourself,” he told her. “I feel the same hatred, so it must be normal.”

Her sniffles came to a stop.

“We have all night,” Cleve said. “You tell me everything you can remember about him, and I’ll tell you everything I can remember about my parents, no matter how painful. We’ll get it all out.”

Finally feeling comfortable with their death, Cleve wanted to remember everything he could about them. He’d never felt this way before—wanting nothing more than to speak about his mother and father.

She kissed him on the cheek. It was hard and tender at the same time, like that from a mother or sister who’d been gone for too long and had just come home.

“I can think of nothing in the world that would be better than that right now,” she said.

Cleve lost track of the hours.

It wasn’t until the sun was up that they finally fell asleep cuddled close together.

His last thought was of her hands. He’d spent a lot of time touching them that night, and he couldn’t help but still think of them as childlike. They were so small in his grasp, unnervingly fragile. They gave him strength when he thought of his own body compared to hers. How could someone like him be so easily broken?

But he was. Within himself, he felt the same fragility as he did about her hands. He knew it was the barrier he would need to rebuild. And he looked forward to it—after he rested.

Chapter 5

Cleve awoke from a soft knocking at the door.

A murmur came through. “Lady Jessend?”

Jessend grumbled and turned away from Cleve and the direction of the door.

The knocking continued. “Lady Jessend?” The voice was louder this time.

Cleve shook her shoulder. “Someone’s at the door.”

“See what they want,” Jessend replied with a demanding tone.

Not a morning person,
Cleve thought, pulling the sheets off him.

He noticed Jessend petulantly grabbing the sheet that slipped off her shoulder and throwing it over her head as he went for the door.

A pale servant girl had her eyes at Cleve’s chest when he opened it. Startled, she looked up to find his face and her cheeks became flushed.

“Oh, I…” With wide eyes, she turned her head down in an obvious manner to look away.

Cleve was surprised by how young she was, probably thirteen, he guessed.

“I didn’t know there would be a…” She scratched her neck. “A guest.”

“Is there something you need from Jessend?” Cleve asked.

Jessend shouted before the poor girl could answer. “What do you want Gerace?”

“Your father asked me to dress you and bring you to him. Kasko Lage has announced he’ll be visiting soon.”

“Tell my father I’m sick.” Jessend faked a cough.

“He said you would say that. And he told me to tell you…” Gerace swallowed hard. “May I come in, my lady?”

“What did he tell you to tell me?” Jessend sat up, her wild hair a mess across her face and shoulders.

“I’d rather not repeat it.”

Cleve thought he should put some pants on and left the doorway to do so.

Jessend jumped from the bed. “One moment.” She threw the door shut and gave Cleve her eye. “Please don’t leave me alone with him.”

“With who?”

“Kasko. I want you to be there when I have to meet him. I need you to see what he’s like.”

“Why?” Cleve already was thinking of excuses.

“So you know what you’re protecting me from. He’s the man I’m to marry if I don’t find someone else who can earn my father’s approval.”

Cleve was hoping he could go back to sleep. It was only a few hours ago that they’d been holding each other and speaking of painful memories. His mind felt raw, like an open wound. But he owed it to Jessend.

He nodded.

She let out a breath, showing him red eyes over a troubled smile. “I’ll send someone to get you from your room.”

He got a little more sleep in his own bed before knocking woke him again.

He was surprised to find that Gerace was the one Jessend had sent. “I’m to take you to the throne room,” she said, easily looking him in the eye this time. “Jessend wants you to hurry.”

“What do I wear?” Cleve thought to ask.

Gerace invited herself in, reaching through his wardrobe and throwing a shirt and a pair of pants onto his bed. “And please use the mirror. Your hair is unkempt.”

Cleve started removing his shirt, and the redness he’d first seen in Gerace’s cheeks came back with a rush. She practically ran out the door.

“Come out when you’re finished,” she said into the hallway, closing the door behind her.

Luckily, there were no confusing straps to the buttoned shirt chosen for him, and soon he was following Gerace through the palace and into the throne room.

Jessend looked to be hiding behind her father, peering out around his shoulder. In front of them was a man Cleve assumed to be Kasko Lage.

This is who Jessend is afraid of?

He wasn’t much older than Cleve and quite short for a man. For some reason Cleve thought of Reela and how she was probably taller than Kasko, most likely even outweighing him. It could have been his nearly blond hair that made Cleve think of her. He wasn’t sure.

Kasko had a cheerful smile, open-mouthed with bright teeth. Jessend waved Cleve over and wrapped both arms around his right arm as she stood beside him.

“See,” Jessend said. “He’s big, so you’d better stay away.”

“Jessend!” Danvell Takary shouted. “You’re going to spend all day in the kitchen if you don’t start behaving.”

Kasko laughed merrily. “It’s fine, my king. Jessend and I like to joke.” He turned his attention toward Cleve. “So you’re my competition?” He kept his smile and held out a hand for Cleve to step forward and shake. Cleve didn’t see the harm and slipped from Jessend’s grasp to move toward Kasko.

Kasko grabbed Cleve’s elbow with his free hand and leaned in to whisper, “Such a strong man, but your skin cuts just as easily as anyone else’s.”

Cleve shoved Kasko hard. The small man stumbled backward dramatically, his face filled with shock.

Two guards pointed their swords at Cleve, edging forward.

“I don’t know where you get the idea you can act like that,” the King of Goldram scolded Cleve. “But if you touch Kasko again, you can look forward to spending the rest of your time imprisoned.”

Kasko shook his head at Cleve in disbelief. “I just told him that he should be ready for competition. I won’t let Jessend go so easily.”

“No,” Cleve corrected. “He threatened to cut me.”

Kasko gasped. “And he’s a liar as well!”

Jessend stomped her foot. “He’s—” She stopped her shout when her father folded his arms and glared.

The King turned to Cleve next. “Apologize to Kasko Lage and promise you won’t touch him again.”

“I’m sorry,” Cleve muttered. “I promise I won’t touch you.” A mixture of embarrassment and frustration made him boil with rage.

Kasko smiled nervously, playing the scared little boy all too well. “You’re forgiven. I understand some men can’t help but feel threatened by competition.”

Cleve bit down hard to keep himself from balling his fists.

Kasko cocked his head toward Danvell. “May I take Jessend out of the palace?” he asked sweetly. “I’d like some time alone with her.”

“Of course,” Danvell replied, his tone as if Kasko didn’t even need to ask. “Jessend…” He took her shoulder and glanced at her with one eye, tilting his head to the side.

Apparently there was some sort of understanding between them, for Jessend meekly nodded before letting her gaze sink to the floor.

She shuffled to Kasko and latched her arm around his without a glance.

When they left, the King spoke before Cleve could go. “Jessend can be very manipulative. She likes to overdramatize, and men can be drawn to her, taking her side whether or not they believe it’s right. Did she tell you to do that to Kasko?”

“No. Kasko said my skin cuts just as easily as anyone else’s.” When Cleve heard himself say the words, they didn’t come off as threatening as they had from Kasko’s mouth. The way the small man had squeezed his elbow and whispered it was menacing. Cleve had felt the man’s evil like a cold wind reaching the bones beneath his skin.

“It sounds like he was just referring to a friendly duel. He did mention competition. You need to calm yourself. I greatly appreciate what you’ve done for this family already, but if you become aggressive with Kasko again, I’ll need to punish you. His father is a brilliant man who’s revolutionizing safe surgery. He’s invented numerous techniques, sterilizations, and he’s even working on a way to transfer blood safely from one Human body into another. He’s richer than I am, with a staff of medical experts that would be a major advantage in any war.”

Danvell glanced toward the doorway, lowering his voice. “Jessend may not love Kasko, but their marriage could save thousands of people in Goldram if the Lage family was on our side.” The King fell into silence, making Cleve wonder what he should say.

“I can see how Kasko’s family is important.”
But there’s something wrong with that man.

“Yes, but Kasko has done nothing for this family yet, unlike you.” Danvell showed Cleve a proud smile. “It’s rare for me to like a man that Jessend has brought to the palace, but you’re different than most men.” He stopped to look at a timepiece from his pocket. “I would like to speak with you more about this whole situation, but I don’t have the time at the moment.” The King turned to leave.

Cleve decided to take his chances with a possibly dangerous question. “May I see Rek?”

“Who?”

“The psychic Elf who came with me. I’m not sure where he’s staying.”

“I’m keeping him far from me. I’ll have a guard bring you to him.”

Rek’s room was adorned with many vases of flowers along with pictures of Elves on the walls.

Cleve was confused by them. “Do you know these Elves?”

Rek laughed. “Not one of them. I don’t know why they thought to litter the walls with paintings of Elves I’ve never met. I guess they believed it would comfort me.” He shook his head. “It seems they know as little about Elves as I do.”

“What happened with the King’s adviser—the psychic one?”

“Micah Vail.” Rek was nodding now. “He’s a very cautious man, and he has good reason to be.”

“So you’re not going to tell anyone he’s a psychic?”

“I have no reason to. He’s helping me.” Rek lowered his voice. “Probably because I’m cooperating.”

Cleve was about to ask if Rek could be sure Micah’s intentions were genuine, but then he remembered who he was talking to.

“What’s he doing for you?” Cleve asked instead.

“I’m going to visit the Elves once I learn how to ride a horse.”

Cleve felt his eyes go wide. “Are you coming back?”

Rek squeezed Cleve’s shoulder, and he felt his worry lessen. “Of course. But I have to take this opportunity. I’m sure you understand.”

Cleve did, nodding to show it.

“Micah Vail says it’s better for me to leave soon,” Rek continued. “He’s worried that the longer I’m here and the more I prove myself useful, the harder it’s going to be to convince the King to let me go…although, I’m pretty sure both of them realize there’s not much they can do to contain me. Micah has learned to trust me, but he says the King probably never will, probably won’t ever want to be in the same room as me.”

Rek let out a bitter laugh. “I didn’t think I would meet someone who was more scared of psychics than you.”

“I tried to tell him there’s nothing to worry about, but he doesn’t want to listen to me.”

“It’s fine. It might even be better if he’s afraid of me.” Rek adjusted a nearby painting of a female Elf with blonde hair. “I like this one the best. Her eyes don’t stare at me with the same judgment I feel from the other paintings.”

Cleve didn’t feel nearly as safe knowing Rek was leaving the palace, but he wasn’t lying earlier—he did understand the need.

“What do you hope to happen when you visit the Elves?” he asked.

Rek turned to Cleve, tilting his head. “I want to learn everything I can about what happened between the Krepps and the Elves. I’m hoping I can convince them to come back and fight with us, but I know nothing of Elven culture. I’m nervous about what they’ll think of me…given I can’t even speak their language.”

“Do you know if many of them are psychics?”

“I don’t know that, and neither does anyone in Goldram, apparently.”

A guard knocked. “Cleve Polken? We have a letter for you.”