by Narro, B. T.
Nearly done with his food, Cleve slowed to make sure Gerace finished explaining the sport. He was already finding himself extremely interested, though he still barely understood it.
Competing at Redfield had always been his dream since he’d started training with a sword. So now that he was hearing about this somewhat similar sport, he could feel himself already searching for ways to play. Maybe once the war is over in Kyrro I could come back here, bring Reela with me.
“How does a team win?” Cleve asked.
“Whoever scores the most points before the match is over. Only an archer can score. They get two points for hitting the target and one point for hitting the chain above the target that rings a bell when either the chain or the target is struck with an arrow. Each team gets three rounds before offense and defense are switched. Each round is over when the archer either fires an arrow or gets knocked down.”
Gerace smiled and finally leaned back against her chair. “It’s really exciting. And the men are so skilled it’s scary, my father included. Hardly anyone can get by him without a second person helping them.”
Cleve then remembered something Jessend had told him about the sport. “There’s some relation between shotmarl and desmarls, right?”
“Yes. The sport originated from desmarls. The target is shaped like a desmarl eye, which is the best place to shoot a desmarl in order to kill it. And just like fighting the desmarls, the archers have to be aware of their surroundings, quick on their feet, and accurate even while moving. The swordsmen defending them are like those who protect archers from the massive tentacles the desmarls use to pick men up, crush them, and carry them to their mouths. In fact, the winning team of each season is sent to battle the desmarls.”
Gerace looked at the door before leaning in and lowering her voice. “That’s what happened to the first man Jessend was to marry. He was an amazing shotmarl archer, helping Goldram win the season. But he was killed when they went to battle the desmarls. They say he saved two other people in the process. Though, usually no one dies on the winning shotmarl team that is sent to fight. Someone must’ve made a mistake.”
Cleve let down his fork, finishing his last bite. “There must be honor in going to fight the desmarls.” Honor is often the reason, when logic is lost.
“Definitely.” Gerace started cleaning up for Cleve. “And good money in being a shotmarl player as well.”
And money is the other. “So why do you work here if your family has enough money?”
She stopped on the way out. “Because there’s honor in my job, too.”
His face must’ve revealed his judgment, for she looked ready to scream at him.
“You can’t see the honor in my job?” Gerace asked.
“I can,” Cleve lied.
She set the tray on a nearby table, in the process bumping a lamp that threatened to fall. She didn’t steady it, her hands too busy making fists. Luckily, it wobbled back into place.
“Has anyone ever told you you’re a bad liar?” Her arms folded.
“I’m sorry. I meant no disrespect. I just don’t see the same honor in serving people as there is in fighting desmarls.”
“My father explained it this way: Most people attribute honor to a job or a title, but really honor can only be found within us. It is not awarded to us, as people often believe. If you do something that makes Greenedge a better place, and you have integrity about it, then what you’re doing is honorable. That’s why I don’t appreciate when you can’t say my name right. If I were a princess or a queen, you would be inclined to practice my name until you got it right. But since I’m a servant, you haven’t taken the time.”
Cleve knew the young girl was right, and he felt ashamed for it. He stood and spread his palms. “I apologize. I don’t want to call you anything else but your name. Will you help me practice it?”
She looked at his hands as if they had spit on them. But when her eyes rose to his face, they must’ve seen how serious he was, for her look of disgust faded and she nodded with a smile.
“I thought you were joking for a moment.”
“I’m not usually one to joke.”
She stayed to help him practice until he had it right.
Chapter 11
The warmth from the day lasted well into the night, making the sheets and even Cleve’s shirt too hot for him. He’d met with Jessend briefly, just long enough for her to tell him she would be sharing his bed later.
But she hadn’t come yet, and Cleve was beginning to realize he would be asleep before she did.
He awoke with the room bathed in black. Jessend was moving around his bed, doing something with his window. He couldn’t even make out her silhouette, only could hear her footsteps.
He grumbled to let her know he was awake and gingerly sat up. Her sounds at the window stopped.
To Cleve’s surprise, a male voice spoke out, “Don’t move.”
It’s not Jessend…how do I know that voice?
“Who are you?” Cleve squinted, desperately trying to determine if it was friend or foe.
The man moved about the room, making a rustle as he went. Soon he’d lit a lamp and showed Cleve a sinister smile.
Foe. “What are you doing here?” Cleve started to move toward Kasko.
“I said don’t move.” His grin faded.
Kasko had an unusually small crossbow aimed at Cleve’s chest, though Cleve knew not to doubt it still could propel an arrow through his heart.
Kasko navigated to the foot of Cleve’s bed. He seemed even shorter than he had the first time they’d met, skinnier as well, like he could’ve slipped in through the cracks in the wall. But Cleve knew better. Kasko had come in through the door. There was a dagger in his other hand, his forearm used to support the weight of his steady crossbow.
“How did you get into the palace with weapons?” Cleve gestured at them.
“I’m welcome to come and go as I please. If I’m carrying a bag, there’s no reason for them to search it.” Keeping his eyes on Cleve, he let down the crossbow for a blink, knelt, and grabbed a glass vial using two fingers from the hand holding his knife. He tossed it to Cleve. “Drink that.”
Cleve held it up to his eyes. It was red, and for a moment Cleve thought Kasko had bled into it. The thought sickened him, twisting his stomach.
“What’s in here?”
“Your life. You drink that, you live. You don’t, you die.” Kasko jabbed the knife in Cleve’s direction, no longer even feigning amusement at the situation. “I don’t know what you have planned trying to get me here for some stupid competition, but it’s not going to work. Jessend is mine. I need her. My father may be neutral still, but my future is with Waywen. I’m taking Jessend there after we marry, and they’re going to give me my own army when they and Presoren win this war. I’ll practically be a king, and you’ll be nothing.”
Now Cleve found genuine joy on the young man’s face. He seemed deliriously happy, even, with an open-mouthed grin.
“What’s Jessend going to do in Waywen?” Cleve asked.
Kasko visibly shuddered, writhing with pleasure. “So beautiful. I can’t wait to see her bleed.”
Cleve had heard enough. He looked around as he tried to come up with a plan.
“Keep your eyes on me, scum.” Kasko’s teeth were pressed together tightly, all joy gone. “Or take an arrow in the heart.”
There was a knock at the door. “Cleve? Sorry I’m so late. Are you still up?” Jessend tried the doorknob, but Kasko must’ve locked it. “Why is this locked?” The knocking was louder. “Is something wrong, Cleve?”
“Bastial hell, why is Jessend here?” Kasko hissed. “She needs to shut up! Stay there.” Kasko sidestepped toward the door, tucking the knife into his belt and keeping his crossbow aimed at Cleve.
The small man kept himself out of view of the Princess as he opened the door in front of him.
Jessend stepped in curiously. “Cleve?”
Kasko grabbed her arm, practically
tossed her toward the bed, and shut the door after her, locking it hard. He had the crossbow aimed at her now.
“Either of you move or speak louder than a whisper, and I shoot.” Now he was furious, practically shouting in a raspy breath. “Dammit, you whore. You little whore! Whore! Whore!” His head shook with each uttering of the word. In the low light, Cleve even saw spit fly out.
Jessend showed Cleve a fearful glance.
“You’ve been lying with this man?” Kasko asked, starting to growl. It grew louder, like a dog about to bark. “You damn whore, Jessend. You’re supposed to be mine! I should kill you both.”
Jessend was quiet, showing Cleve another fearful glance.
He didn’t know what to say either.
“What do you want with us?” Jessend finally muttered.
“I’m trying to figure that out, you bitch. Shut up and let me think.” His hands shook as he growled again. He grabbed the knife from his belt and waved it at Jessend. “Get over here.”
Cleve grabbed her arm. “She stays right here until you tell us what’s happening.”
Kasko shouted into his arm to muffle it. He raised the knife to his elbow and cut himself, a thin slit. Then he pointed the bloody knife at Cleve. “Take the potion now.”
Cleve noticed Jessend examining it.
She gasped. “Don’t drink that, Cleve.”
“What is it?”
“Mekio poison.”
Kasko whistled softly. “You’re smart, pretty girl. Too bad you’re such a whore, and your father’s on the wrong side of war.”
“This is illegal.” She pointed to it. “Very illegal. Where did you even get the mekio plants?”
He showed her a bored look, demonstrating he thought the question was even stupid to ask. “You’re going to drink some after Cleve, and you have no one to blame but your whore self for that.” He gritted his teeth and swung the knife in their direction. “Bastial hell, I can’t believe you would do this to me!”
Cleve figured he’d have no better time than then. He grabbed the small bed table and jumped in front of Jessend. “Stay behind me,” he told her.
Kasko shifted the crossbow into position to shoot, and Cleve moved the small table with it. Kasko raised his weapon, so Cleve did the same with the table.
“You really think you can move that in front of my arrow? Put down the table and take the potion, fool.” Kasko was moving to the side now, trying to get a better angle. Cleve crept toward him, using his other hand to make sure Jessend stayed behind him.
Kasko looked like he wanted to grin but couldn’t quite get his lips to twist right. His face showed nervousness, at least far more of it than Cleve felt, the table steady in his hands. He raised and lowered it with each shift of the crossbow.
“I’m going to give you until the count of three to let go of the table and take the potion,” Kasko muttered angrily.
Each man continued to slowly circle the room, Jessend staying close behind Cleve.
“One…” Kasko said.
“Guards!” Jessend shouted. “Guards! Guards! Guards!”
“Bitch!” Kasko shouted back. There was a twang and a loud thrum as the arrow was fired into Cleve’s table.
He rushed at Kasko, but the little man was quick, jumping to the side and slashing at Cleve with the knife. It nicked his arm, making him drop the table by accident.
Kasko dropped the crossbow and furiously rushed at him, clearly skilled with the knife as he swung it with careful but quick motions. Cleve found himself stumbling over tables, chairs—he couldn’t take his eyes off Kasko’s attempts to drive the blade into his body.
Jessend tried to smash a chair over Kasko’s head, only he saw it coming and jumped backward. The moment she saw she’d failed, she fled toward Cleve, positioning herself behind him again.
Guards started pounding on the door. Then Cleve heard the distinct sound of kicking at it. As quick as a rat running into a hole, Kasko scampered to the ground-floor window and dove out headfirst.
Cleve knew that just outside the window was a dirt walkway that was still within the palace walls, but there were dozens of escape routes Kasko could take.
Knowing he would be unable to fit in the tight opening that the small man had jumped through, Cleve furiously tried to open the window more. But it was stuck. Then he remembered Kasko had been doing something to it earlier.
“It’s glued shut!” Cleve shouted to the guards who’d now broken in.
“It was Kasko!” Jessend shouted to them. “He went out the window.”
“Kasko Lage?” They both stopped with a curious glance at the Princess, thinking she’d misspoken.
“Yes!” Jessend screamed in desperation.
“Are you sure it wasn’t someone who looked like him?” The guards waited, one of them still eyeing Cleve as if he could be their enemy.
“Yes, you idiots. Hurry!”
They ran to Cleve and pushed him aside, grunting as one tried to open the window. He gave up after a breath and started using his sword to strike the glass. There were explosions of noise as the steel began to crack through. Anyone nearby who’d been sleeping surely would be up soon, if they weren’t already.
When enough of the glass had shattered, the guard started to climb through, calling behind him, “Go the other way. Tell them not to let anyone through the exits!”
“Not to let Kasko through the exits!” Jessend shouted to correct them. But both guards already were gone by the time she’d finished.
Cleve was moving back toward the window in order to climb out when Jessend grabbed his arm, shouting, “What are you doing?”
“Going after him.”
“You don’t have any shoes. There’s broken glass everywhere. You might not even be able to fit through that window. And you’re not even wearing a shirt or pants!” She gestured at him, her face still fearful he might not be listening. “You’ll probably get lost looking for Kasko, with your half-naked body ending up in some poor woman’s room!” She pulled him away from the window.
Cleve sighed and began to feel his racing heart slowing back to normal. Jessend pushed herself against his chest, wrapping her arms around him.
She began to cry, so he held her tight.
“I won’t let him hurt you,” he told her. Cleve could feel her hot tears down his naked chest and stomach.
“I hate him so much.”
“Me, too. But there’s no more hiding for him. After this, everyone’s going to know the truth about him.”
Jessend let out a shaky breath and then a sniffle. “Will you walk me back to my room? I want to see Lisanda, make sure he didn’t go that way.”
“Of course. Just let me put some clothes on.”
Jessend shook her head with a sniffle, letting out half a weep and a laugh. “No, don’t.” She showed him a smile as she wiped her eyes. “I like you like this, and I want to see what the guards think when you walk down the halls wearing nothing but your underwear.” She laughed and then pressed up against him, kissing his chest.
Reflexively, he kissed the top of her head.
She looked up, putting her arms around his neck. Gazing into her dark brown eyes in the dim light did something to him. His body was still acting on its own, as if it still was ready for battle—perhaps even craving it.
No thoughts crossed his mind. So when he bent down and pressed his lips against hers, the first thing he felt was shock. They each pulled away, a loud smack of their lips parting. She looked to be just as surprised as he was.
Unsure why, his hands reached behind her thighs to hoist her up. She jumped with him, wrapping her legs around his waist. They kissed again, this time their lips moving frantically.
Cleve carried her toward the bed as their lips pressed and squeezed. There were still no thoughts, only pleasure. It felt like a cold drink of water after a long, dry day. The gulps would happen on their own without choice, just like how Cleve’s mouth was moving then.
Cleve found the bed with his k
nees, moving himself and Jessend to its head where he slowly let her down and him with her.
She grabbed his hair, letting out a windy exhale when his hand found her breast. With her legs still around him, she pulled him lower, and soon he was pressing himself against her.
A girl cleared her throat from the doorway, and Cleve felt his body rip apart from Jessend’s.
Bastial hell, what just happened?
“I heard there was an intruder in Cleve’s room.” Lisanda had her eyes on the window, purposefully avoiding Cleve and Jessend on the bed. “I just wanted to make sure everything was alright. Do you want me to shut the door?”
Jessend rolled off the bed and jumped to her sister. “No, silly.” She whispered something and then dragged Lisanda out of the room.
Cleve waited, unsure what to think or do, even unsure if she would come back. He wanted to get up and put some clothes on, but he had to wait. Jessend had left the door open and there was nothing he could do to hide what was bulging in his underwear.
Jessend returned as he was throwing his shirt over his head. She shut the door behind her. “I don’t know what happened there. Do you?”
Cleve shook his head, putting his pants on next.
“Maybe I was just so relieved by the truth of Kasko coming out.” It was rare to see Jessend shy or embarrassed, but she seemed to be both at that moment as she looked at the rug between them. She kept her eyes low, her voice near a whisper. “Does this mean you like me?” She paused for a breath. “You know…I could feel you pushing against me.”
“I don’t know what it means, but Reela—” Cleve stopped himself, realizing he didn’t know what he was even going to say. Her name had come out on its own.
“Reela?” Jessend tilted her head.
“I think I need time to think about this more.” No thoughts were coming then. There was just emotion, and so much of it Cleve couldn’t figure out which feeling was the strongest. He had shame for his lust, yet continued attraction toward Jessend. He felt honor for stopping Kasko, but disgust for losing control of himself with Jessend after.
