Bastial Steel (39 page)

“I never thought how hard it would be to tell you.” Rek sat on his bed, giving a loud exhale. “I was so worried for
you
, I didn’t realize how difficult it was going to be for me just to say it.”

“Say it.” Cleve felt his fists clenching, suddenly having an idea what must be so hard to tell him. “Did Welson Kimard kill my parents?” His voice was becoming angry, louder as well. He could hear it, but he couldn’t stop. “Did the King of Kyrro order the deaths of my mother and father?”

When Rek was unable to look up from the floor, Cleve knew the answer.

But why?

Cleve waited as patiently as he could, but it was impossibly difficult when he had no clue as to when Rek would answer him.

Soon he was shouting. “Why, Rek? Tell me!”

Rek reached out toward Cleve’s arm. “I think it would be wise if I calmed you before continuing.”

Cleve stepped back, snapping his arm away. “I don’t want to be calm. Just tell me what you know and leave the rest up to me.”

Rek was nodding sullenly. “That’s a good plan to start with.” He took a breath and then stood, still unable to meet Cleve’s eyes. “When Welson summoned me, it was because of the worries he’d received from students and teachers at the Academy. Gossip spread throughout Kyrro City as well, that I was dangerously powerful. As I’ve told you, people are scared of what they don’t understand, and everyone has secrets and even more doubts.”

The Elf gave another sigh, so long and slow Cleve felt the urge to interrupt it by demanding that Rek continue. Though, he was able to contain himself and remain silent, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited.

Rek continued. “Welson had a few secrets he was so worried I would discover, they were bubbling at the surface of each thought. I could barely focus on anything else, they were so strong. It was as if I could feel them.”

Rek finally met Cleve’s eyes. “Remember, during my time in the castle, Welson was always frightened of me—of his
younger brother
.” Rek laughed bitterly. “But there was something different about this fear I was sensing. I hadn’t seen him in years. What had he done that he was so worried I would discover? My curiosity got the better of me, and I started fishing, working to get the information out of him. I was certain it had to do with me, or at least with the reason behind summoning me. There had to be something else behind my visit besides mere worries and complaints from his citizens. But I was wrong. There were
other
secrets he was trying to hide.”

Rek eyes were glistening. He closed them for a breath as he continued. “That was the first and last time I’ve ever prodded the truth out of someone based on my own selfish curiosity, and I shouldn’t have even done it that once. As much as I despise Welson for the unfairness in the way he’s treated me, I do care for him. I feel his pain, his guilt, and his worries, especially after that meeting.”

“What happened?” Cleve asked.

Rek unconsciously rubbed the scar on his cheek. “Welson blames himself for the war of Ovira. There was an incident at his doing that could be looked at as the reason peace could never be reached between Kyrro and Tenred. But remember, Welson came into his kingship with a shaky relationship already existing between Kyrro and Tenred due to some issues his father had with them.” Rek shook his head. “He takes far too much of the blame upon himself.”

Cleve still hadn’t decided how much blame he would attribute to Welson Kimard. First he needed to hear of his parents.

“With the only ironbark trees being in southern Kyrro, Tenred offered a tremendous amount of iron to trade for them,” Rek continued. “These trades went well until Welson Kimard’s father, Westin, traded boats to Tenred, and then two of the boats ended up sinking from what was theorized to be rotten wood, killing the crews aboard. Without proof, and with neither territory being unable to win a war against the other, Tenred had no choice but to forgive Kyrro. Only a few could say if it was really sincere or not, just as only a few knew of the incident between Kyrro and Tenred that happened years later…after Westin was killed and Welson took over as king.

“Welson’s father was never interested in the small islands around Ovira, but Welson was, especially when Tegry—the King of Tenred—was sending out ship after ship to explore them. There were a few minor problems that ensued first, some near crashes and arguments, but nothing major. That is, until one of Welson’s ships arrived at an undiscovered island with Tegry’s ship already there.

“Welson’s men had orders to kill only if they were attacked or if they believed a battle was likely to occur over the discovery of rich resources. And there was a battle on this island, with Welson’s men of Kyrro winning. Only…there was nothing on the island to show for it, and there was no proof that Tegry’s men had shown any aggression. Assassinations and poisoning attempts increased greatly after that incident.”

Rek cleared his throat. “From then on, Welson knew war was coming. He just didn’t know when.”

“What does that have to do with my parents?” Cleve couldn’t wait any longer. Although all of this information was new to him, there were other answers he needed.

Rek shook his head. His hair had gotten longer in the time he’d spent in Greenedge, with it now hanging to his shoulder blades.

“That was Welson’s first guilty incident that I discovered…that I practically pulled out of him while searching for something about myself. His next secret was about your parents.” Rek paused to look at Cleve, as if to judge if he was ready.

Then the Elf continued. “He was a young king, Cleve. He admitted to me in that room that he’d made mistakes and that his deepest regret was what happened with your parents, for he let his emotions take control when he made the decision to…ki—” The word got stuck.

Rek plopped back onto the bed. “I’m sorry, Cleve. This is going to be hard to hear. Perhaps this wasn’t the best time—with us on the way back to defend the kingdom of the man who I’m talking about.”

Just say it,
Cleve almost shouted. “I don’t need to care about him to defend the people in Kyrro.”

“I want you to promise me something,” Rek said, “because the need for revenge is what caused the initial separation between Tenred and Kyrro, even what caused the war that we’re now fighting. And revenge is the reason for the death of your parents. Promise me you won’t take it out on our king. You can wish it. You can dream about it. But you will not act upon it. Promise me, Cleve.”

Cleve tried to imagine being in the same room as his parents’ killer, wondering how it would feel. It wasn’t easy, especially when he’d never thought about it before.

When just the thought of his parents had caused such misery, he couldn’t bring himself to consider the one who’d killed them alive and breathing in the same room as him.

But now he could; he had the strength to do so without the deep pain of loss crippling him for hours after. It was Welson’s face he saw, wide and thin-nosed. But to his surprise, the King of Kyrro wasn’t snickering or smiling balefully. He was filled with sorrow, regret, suffering from the same despair that Cleve often had felt when thoughts of his parents resurfaced from wherever he’d buried them.

He could let the monarch live…so long as he repented. “If I discover that the man responsible for my parents’ death already suffers from remorse, then I can make this promise.” Cleve was careful to say no more.

“That’s fine. I don’t know who actually committed the murders, only the one who set them up. And I know the King does regret it. Even when I saw him again, with you beside me, after all his practice resisting psyche, his worries and guilt were still there. Welson Kimard ordered the death of your father, and he’ll never forgive himself for it.”

Cleve already had assumed this, but there was something Rek said that surprised him. “You only mentioned my father just now. What of my mother?”

“He didn’t order the death of your mother. That was an accident.”

Cleve was shocked to find himself more curious than angry. “What happened?”

“When Welson Kimard became king, he was only fifteen years old, and his father had just been murdered. He couldn’t focus on anything but finding the man who shot the arrow that struck his father in the heart. He told me that your father did it, Cleve. Dex Polken was the one to kill Welson’s father.”

“That can’t be!” Cleve knew his father was no murderer, certainly not someone to commit treason.

Rek held out his palms. “I can’t say whether or not it’s the truth, just that Welson was not lying when he said he was certain.”

Overwhelmed by confusion, Cleve felt as if the room was doing more than just swaying from the waves below them. It was spinning.

He decided it might be a good idea to sit.

Rubbing his eyes, he tried to focus on what he was feeling, but nausea had taken over, the same question repeating over and over:
What could’ve happened for Welson to believe that Dex had killed his father?

Cleve couldn’t even consider the concept that his father really had assassinated a king. The father he knew never would’ve done such a thing. Chills nearly stopped his heart as he remembered his conversation with the King of Kyrro the first time he met him—when his bow was leaning against the throne as he was questioned.

The King had told him that his father had shot at a man.
He really does believe Dex killed his father, and he wanted to see what I knew of it.

“If Welson believes my father killed his father, then why would he have my parents honored with a burial in Kyrro City instead of in their hometown of Trentyre?” Cleve asked.

Rek shrugged slowly, as if apologizing for not knowing. “Maybe he wanted to see their bodies for himself? Or maybe he already felt remorseful and wished to pay them respect? Who knows?”

“How did my mother end up being killed?”

“I didn’t ask,” Rek said. “We were too busy yelling at each other. Remember, this was just before he exiled me. All I know about your mother is that she was with your father when he was killed, and I know that Welson didn’t expect her to be there. Welson had sent your father out of Kyrro on some sort of task, and assassins were waiting for him to be out of the territory before they struck so that it could look like Tenred might’ve been responsible. Your mother and father either went together, or she followed him on her own and he didn’t know it. Whatever it was, they were both shot down.”

Cleve stood back up, feeling himself again. “Who is the man who did it?”

“I didn’t ask that, either. I didn’t know you and I would ever meet, Cleve. The only reason this came out was because I thought Welson’s secrets were about me. But they weren’t. The guilt of his decision has aged him twice what the years alone have done. He doesn’t think he’s fit to be king. He’d never admit it aloud, but he hates the task that was given to him. I think the part of the job he despises the most is that every decision he makes is part of history.”

Rek’s finger traced his scar, and soon he began to scratch. “When Welson was younger, he was always fond of the history of kings and their mark on the world. But being suddenly thrown into that role before he was ready…and with the death of his father being the catalyst…”

Rek took his time, breathing slowly and then letting the air out in a sigh. “Anyone would’ve made mistakes under that pressure. I’m just sorry it had to be at the expense of you and your parents.”

Cleve was suddenly aware of his exhaustion. His anger was gone for now, replaced by a weighty sadness that made his eyelids heavy. He let himself down on his back, putting his forearm over his eyes to help comfort him.

His other hand went to his stomach in the same way Jessend had placed her hand there. “Is that all you know?” Cleve asked, still unsure of what he thought.

“It is,” Rek answered, blowing out the lamp.

In the darkness, Cleve felt alone. He was caught between two worlds. On the outside, he was between Ovira and Greenedge, on the inside, between resentment and sorrow.

“I would ask what you’re feeling right now,” Rek said. “But the better question is to wonder what you’ll be feeling five days from now when we reach Kyrro.”

“If I had the answer to that, I would tell you.”

“Because we need the King as much as he needs us. He isn’t a bad ruler.”

“I know that,” Cleve said.

“I realize my prodding is frustrating you, but I want you to remember the lack of anger you have at this moment for Welson Kimard. Because when you see him again, you won’t feel the same. He’s smart enough to know I will have told you the truth, so he’ll be watching you closely, making it easy for something to spark an argument. It might be a gesture or a look, maybe even something one of you says, but there will be something.”

Rek paused to take a breath. “There is anger within you, Cleve—anger for him specifically. I can’t sense it with psyche, it’s too deep, but I know it must be there. And that kind of anger doesn’t fade on its own. It’ll come out when you see him again…and you will see him again.”

By the time the Elf had finished, Cleve knew he was right. There was anger deep down, and it was solely for the King of Kyrro.

“It’s best if we avoid him as long as possible,” Rek added. “We need time to prove ourselves so that he won’t throw us in prison again. We might have to take up arms against Tenred or the Krepps on our own. If we’re found in the Academy or one of the cities in Kyrro, we might be detained.”