by Narro, B. T.
Jessend gave him comfort as well, but it was a different kind of comfort. He felt himself open up around her the same way he’d begun to do so with Reela during their last moments together. Yet, there wasn’t a burning sensation coursing through his body that screamed for him to kiss Jessend.
When he closed his eyes, he could see Reela smiling, biting her lips in anticipation of his kiss. It was hard to think about anything else but her once he began.
Then his mind went to more passionate thoughts, sliding his hand down to her hip while their mouths pressed and closed around each other, peeling off her shirt as she grinned and undid his belt—
There was a knock at his door. “Are you awake?” It was Jessend’s voice.
“Come in,” he called from the bed as he sat up, only then noticing the weight of his underwear and sheets against the bulge in his pants. He muttered a curse and pulled an extra blanket over himself.
“I can’t sleep,” Jessend said, crawling onto the bed and slipping under the covers. “I hope this is alright.”
Cleve didn’t want to sound too eager, not when she could discover what he was trying to hide. But he was thankful she was there. There was a lot on his mind.
“I’m glad you came. I couldn’t sleep, either.”
Jessend moved next to Cleve and then turned away, taking his arm and pulling it onto her stomach. Cleve turned with her, making sure to keep his lower half away, given that his manhood still was being more stubborn than he would’ve liked.
“There’s too much to do tomorrow to talk all night,” Jessend said. “But if I don’t talk at all, I won’t ever get to sleep. Do you mind?” With the warmth of her body, Cleve already could feel his mind beginning to relax.
“Definitely not.”
She surprised him by moving her rear closer, taking away the last gap between them. Cleve pushed himself away the moment they touched, but Jessend gasped; clearly she’d felt him.
“Um.” She flipped to her back and turned her head. “Have your feelings for me changed?” Her question was cautious, giving Cleve the sense she was ready to flee.
He felt his body flush with hot embarrassment. “No. I mean…I consider you a good friend, but…” That wasn’t for you. He couldn’t bring himself to say it aloud. It was too embarrassing.
“So…what were you doing before I came in here?”
“Thinking about Reela, the girl back in Kyrro.”
Jessend propped herself up on her elbow to show a smirk. “Just thinking?”
Cleve looked away. “Yes.”
“Bastial stars, you must really like her.”
“What did you want to talk about?”
“Fine, we’ll change the subject. Though, I like seeing you embarrassed. It’s like watching a lion run away with its tail between its legs.” She gave him a quick peck on the cheek before resting her head against his shoulder. “Did Silvie understand she shouldn’t blame herself?”
“I’m not sure. She seemed pretty distraught when I told her about Lisanda and Jek.”
Jessend let out a breath that seemed strained, as if she was in pain. “Silvie is beautiful, don’t you think?”
“You already asked me that.”
“No.” Jessend sat up and turned with a sly grin. “I asked if you thought she was cute.”
Rek told me she has feelings for you, he almost said aloud. Cleve took his time before deciding to ask his next question, trying to figure out the most subtle way of phrasing it.
“Are you attracted to her?”
“Of course…” Jessend’s voice trailed off. “Wait, do you mean, do I like her in that way?” Her face twisted. She looked ready to slap Cleve. “Are you asking me if I like girls?”
“No.” Yes. Cleve turned on his side. “Never mind.”
Jessend wasn’t done, though. She pulled on his shoulder until he moved to his back and shifted his eyes toward her.
“Do girls date each other in Kyrro?” she asked. “Because they don’t here.”
“Girls are girls no matter where you go. There will be some who are attracted to each other, as there are men who like other men.”
Jessend’s eyes grew wide. “How can you say that so calmly?”
“Because it’s the truth.”
Jessend flopped onto her back, pushing her head onto Cleve’s shoulder. He could feel her hair tickling his neck until she brushed it behind her and then interlaced her fingers with his.
“The more I learn from you, the less I realize I actually know,” she said. Now she was the one changing the subject, he couldn’t help but realize. “What else is in that mind of yours?”
Cleve let out a long breath, squeezing Jessend’s tiny hand. “You shouldn’t put me on a pedestal. My mind is filled with torment, confusion, pain. Only on the surface and buried deep down am I actually strong. Everything in between is where my real emotions lie, and it’s utter chaos.”
“That’s only because you’re still young. Time will fix that. Time will close the gap between your outer and inner strength.”
She sounded so confident, Cleve almost believed her.
“And how do you know that?”
Jessend shrugged, the lift of her shoulder rubbing against Cleve’s arm. “Because that’s what happened to my brother.”
“Raymess?” Cleve vaguely remembered the name being mentioned while Rek questioned the man who’d attempted to kill Prince Harwin.
“Yes. He’s been away, he and my mother. They went west to Chanren to recruit people for our army. It’s very far from here.”
They were silent for some time.
But then Jessend began talking about the first man she’d loved, and soon Cleve was discussing his parents.
Again, they talked until the sun peeked through the window. But no tears were shed. In fact, Cleve was smiling by the time their words ran out.
At the horse range the next day, Silvie presented two baskets filled with flowers, cheeses, and wines to both Takary sisters.
“I’m sorry about yesterday,” she led with. “I—”
“Bastial stars,” Lisanda interrupted. “How can you even afford this?” She hesitantly reached forward to accept her basket.
“Does our father really pay you that much?” Jessend teased, accepting her gift as well.
“No.” Silvie laughed nervously. “I owe some favors now, but it’s worth it.”
Jessend showed a harsh glare to Cleve, stopping his heart for a breath. “Didn’t you tell her it wasn’t her fault?”
“I tried,” Cleve began to argue.
“Please,” Silvie interrupted with a hand to Jessend’s shoulder. “I wanted to do this.”
Lisanda moved in for a hug. “Thank you, Silvie.”
Jessend was next, and they seemed to squeeze each other just a bit tighter, holding on a little longer as well. Jessend and Silvie’s hands slid down each other’s arms to meet for a blink, Jessend showing a flattered smile.
Rek came out later, and soon he was galloping in circles around Cleve.
Cleve’s competitive nature kicked in, and he tried to keep up with the Elf and his hideous horse. But Nulya was resistant to going so fast, bucking into the air and throwing Cleve off when he kicked her too hard.
Rek’s horse trotted over, and he hopped off. The Elf had a proud smile, clearly aware Cleve was competing with him.
Rek didn’t bring it up. Instead, he asked, “Have you heard back from Kasko?”
“Not yet.”
The Elf showed a frown. “I’m leaving for Meritar to visit the Elves in two days. If you want me to help you with your plan, it has to happen before then or when I get back. I’m trying to take this trip as quickly as possible so we can get back to Kyrro faster. The Elves may even have a ship for me and wish to join our fight.”
“I’ll send another letter.” Cleve lowered his head to meet Rek’s eyes. “Promise you won’t leave for Kyrro without me.”
“If they have a ship, I’ll find some way to get you on it. I
promise.”
For the next couple of hours, Rek assisted Cleve in his training with Nulya, using psyche to communicate with the horse for each of Cleve’s commands.
When they each needed a break, Cleve went to find Micah Vail to see what he could do about Kasko not replying.
Chapter 10
“Has there been a response from Kasko?” Cleve asked, closing the door behind him. Micah Vail was just finishing writing on some scroll, putting paperweights on its edges to let the ink dry.
“No. But he has definitely received it.”
“What can I do to hurry him up?”
Micah shrugged. “You can call him a coward.”
It took Cleve a moment to realize the King’s adviser was serious. “It’s that easy?”
Micah Vail laughed. “Are you implying that wouldn’t work on you either?”
Cleve realized it would and felt ashamed, making a conscious effort to remember not to be so easily manipulated in the future.
Cleve pointed to the pen. “May I draft the letter here?”
Micah gestured to it with his hand. “Please.”
The beginning of the letter came easily to Cleve, though soon he ran out of things to say. After gazing at it for a few breaths, Micah busying himself at one of the other tables, Cleve decided what he’d written was enough:
Dear Kasko Lage,
You’re a coward.
– Cleve Polken.
He cleared his throat to get Micah’s attention, handing it to him.
Micah looked at it and smiled. “A man of few words.”
“I’ve been told that before.”
To busy his mind, Cleve went back to the horse range, glad to find Rek still there.
The Elf helped him train with Nulya. Already, the horse was learning Cleve’s commands at a rapid rate.
Silvie wasn’t too fond of Rek; Cleve noticed for the first time that day.
“I have no idea what all this psyche is doing to Nulya,” she commented, one hand on her hip with the other petting the horse.
“It’s only helping her learn what Cleve wants her to do,” Rek replied, his tone stern, showing he was ready to argue. “It’s not harming her at all.”
“But how can you know?” Silvie tried to hold a smile, but the tension between them was thick enough to tell it couldn’t be genuine. “There are no horses in Ovira.”
“I can tell,” Rek said, his voice now peremptory.
Silvie gave a loud breath to show her frustration. Nulya whinnied the moment she finished stroking the horse’s mane.
Cleve spent the rest of the day at the training grounds, dueling with the guards—his new favorite way of passing the time.
Enough of them joined in that no rivalries had a chance to spark. They each waited for their turn to challenge the victor, which was usually Cleve, until four or five straight victories would tire him out.
Every time he won, Cleve had to refrain from commenting how the warriors in Kyrro were far stronger. He knew it would only lead to trouble, especially when impressed whistles soon turned to mutterings of frustration.
By the time the sun was setting, Cleve left to check with Micah Vail one last time before bed, hoping he might have received a response from Kasko.
The adviser wasn’t in his room, but there was a note on the door. Cleve saw his name on it.
Stepping closer for a read, he wondered how Micah knew he would come by.
“Cleve, I won’t be in for the night, but there still hasn’t been a reply from Kasko. We can try another letter tomorrow morning. Come by early.”
Cleve pondered where Micah would be staying if it wasn’t in his room, but he decided there was no point to his curiosity. The man was clearly not easy to figure out.
Jessend, on the other hand, made no effort hiding where she wanted to be at all times. When she wasn’t taking dancing, singing, or other lessons, she spent even more of her time on the horse range than Cleve.
He was no expert in flirting, but that’s what the interactions between her and Silvie looked like to him. He would’ve felt jealous if he’d had feelings for Jessend in the same way he did for Reela, but it was actually the opposite. More than anything, he just wanted the Princess to find comfort.
With the light of the sun nearly gone, Cleve knew now was his last chance to use his bow if he wanted to get some practice in before tomorrow.
While Cleve was shooting arrows at his target, Rek found him, asking, “Any luck with Kasko?”
Cleve shook his head, worried it meant he’d run out of time.
“I wish I could wait longer.” Rek spoke with genuine regret. “But just getting there is going to take over a week. I want to do this soon so I can be back when we’re ready to leave.”
Cleve let out a defeated breath. “I understand,” he said, shifting his focus back to his target as he readied an arrow.
Rek nodded apologetically. He turned toward the two guards watching Cleve by the door to the palace. “Did you know that they despise you?”
Cleve looked to find two he’d humiliated recently. “I figured.”
When night made it impossible to continue training, Cleve left to retire in his room. Gerace was waiting by his door with a tray of food.
“Where have you been?”
By her menacing eyes and the way her weight was shifted to one side, she seemed to have been waiting a long time.
“I’m sorry, Ge…” Cleve stopped himself before attempting her name, figuring it would just anger her even more when he got it wrong.
“Gerace,” she said it for him.
“Gerace,” he tried.
Her head sank dramatically. “Just call me Gerry. It’s what my father calls me.”
Cleve opened his door for her and his food tray, following her inside.
“What does he do?” Cleve asked.
Gerace seemed to brighten by the question, a smile breaking across her mouth. “He’s a shotmarl player, offensive swordsman. He plays for Goldram.”
Cleve tried to remember what Jessend had told him about shotmarl when they were still in Kyrro. Nothing came to mind. “What is it?”
“It’s a sport.” Gerace’s annoyance came back as she set down his tray hard. “Kyrro is missing out if there’s no shotmarl there. What do you do in your stadiums, then?”
Cleve thought of Redfield. “We have our own competitions.” He sat down and began eating. “Sit.” He pointed at the empty seat with his knife. “Tell me about shotmarl.”
She looked at the chair with one eye, as if trying to glimpse it without Cleve noticing.
“Please,” Cleve added. It was much better than her waiting silently outside.
“I shouldn’t.”
Cleve felt physical action was better than words at this point. As Gerace started toward the door, he came up behind her, lifted her by her armpits, and maneuvered her over to the chair like a misbehaved child. She was silent as he did it, and once she was seated she seemed to be hiding a smile as best she could.
“It’s that easy to pick me up?”
“Of course. You’re tiny.”
She folded her arms. “I’m taller than Jessend.”
Cleve shrugged as he cut his meat. “She’s tiny also.”
“Do…” She brushed her dark hair over her ear. “Do men like women much shorter than them, usually?”
Cleve realized two things then: He’d been forgetting Gerace was much younger than him, and she didn’t realize that he and Jessend weren’t romantically involved.
“Every man is different,” he answered, unwilling to get into his specific tastes in women, which he barely knew himself.
“What about you, then?”
Is she flirting with me? Cleve studied her face for the answer. She seemed shocked by his gaze, leaning back with startled eyes.
“I only ask because you and Jessend are together,” she said with an urgent tone. “And you said she’s very small. I figured…” She cleared her throat. “Well, I thought...” S
he shook her head. “Forgive me. It wasn’t my place to ask.”
Explaining his complicated relationship with Jessend was the last thing he wanted and definitely not the reason he’d invited the servant girl to his table.
“It’s fine,” he said. “Tell me about shotmarl.”
She leaned back and finally looked relaxed for the first time since she’d entered.
“Each eastern territory has a team, well, except for the Elves. They keep to themselves. So there’s four teams: Goldram, Zav, Presoren, and Waywen. Each team plays once a week, and we rotate who we play against and where we play them. When my father plays here in Goldram, I get a day off to go see him. Many people from the city watch. The tickets are expensive but worth it. The Goldram Stadium is marvelous.”
She leaned forward to cup her hands on the table, forming a circle. “It seats twenty thousand people, and it’s almost always full every game.” She lowered her head to show Cleve a sly look, like she was about to reveal a secret. “Most people think the most important role is the archer. But the swordsmen defending him are even more crucial to winning, and that’s what my father does.”
“He defends the archer from what?”
Gerace pushed three fingers onto the table. “There are three swordsmen trying to stop the archer from scoring. These swordsmen are defense.” She moved two fingers in front of them with her other hand. “And offense only gets two swordsmen to stop the three swordsmen on defense from reaching the archer.” She put down the thumb of her right hand behind her two fingers. “The archer has to shoot a target fifty yards behind the three swordsmen trying to stop him from doing just that.”
Cleve swallowed his food to make a comment. “This whole thing sounds unnecessarily dangerous. How are people not injuring and killing each other every match?”
She let out a single innocent laugh. “Everyone wears leather armor. The swords are wooden, and the arrowhead is made from the blood of a rubber tree.” She pushed out a palm. “Don’t be mistaken. There are injuries, sometimes serious, because in order to stop someone on the other team, you have to either physically prevent them from getting by you or knock them off their feet. A blow from a wooden sword has to be quite strong to do that, especially since most shotmarl players are big like you. Once someone touches the ground, even with his knee, he’s out for the round. There are referees to watch for that.”
