Bastial Sentinels (The Rhythm of Rivalry: Book 5) (5 page)

Jessend grumbled but gave no more argument.

Micah and Vala spoke between themselves for the better part of an hour. The guards removed their weapons and napped as they waited for orders. Jek sat with the twins, asking questions about Owin.

“Is he like Kasko in that he wants to cut people?”

“Probably,” Jessend muttered.

But Lisanda answered more to Jek’s satisfaction, listing the facts she knew. “He’s not much older than us, and he’s married to a woman from a wealthy family, Heather Milander. He’s shown no signs of Kasko’s insanity.” Lisanda looked at Jessend, who gave a disapproving glare in return. “But Kasko had everyone fooled for a while,” Lisanda added halfheartedly. “So I suppose that’s possible for Owin as well.”

“I don’t trust anyone in that family,” Jessend said petulantly.

“I’ll stay with you in your bed,” Lisanda offered.

“So you can be killed as well if Owin comes in?”

Lisanda blew out a breath of annoyance.

Jessend shook her head. “I’m sorry. I’m in a terrible mood. I would like your company tonight, but I’d also like someone outside the room who could protect us.”

“I’ll monitor your room throughout the night,” Jek said. “I’ll be up anyway because of my nightmares.”

“Thank you,” Jessend said. “And I’m sorry.”

Micah and the others got ready to ride.

“Looks like we’re leaving,” Jek said. He checked the sky. Night was coming quickly. “How far is it to the Lage mansion?”

“Not far,” Lisanda said.

“It’s too close to the palace,” Jessend answered.

They said their goodbyes to Goreng and Giant, then rode back down the dirt path until they were surrounded by the city once again. Light from the windows of taverns and houses illuminated the roads just enough to see silhouettes, making it too dark for the other weary travelers they passed to recognize Vala Takary or her daughters.

The Lage mansion looked to be four times the size of Sannil’s entire estate. Private swordsmen guarded its entrance. Micah knew one of them by name and greeted him. Soon their horses were being taken off to the stables, and they were led inside and left to wait in the luxurious entrance room, where Jek thought a disgusting amount of space was wasted on furniture that looked too fancy to serve a purpose.

A young man who Jek assumed to be Owin Lage descended the stairs. Everyone stood.

“I apologize for coming by without notice,” Micah began. “And so late as well.”

“Please, the Takarys are always welcome.” Owin looked specifically at Jessend. “I’m terribly sorry about Kasko. We could speak more about it later if you would like.”

“No, thank you,” Jessend replied coldly.

“I understand.” His voice hardened as he shifted his glance to Micah. “My father left for Chanren yesterday. I assume you’re here to speak with him?”

“That’s unfortunate,” Micah answered. “Yes, we were hoping to speak with him, but more importantly—and we hate to impose—we need food and beds for the night, if it isn’t too much to ask.”

Owin was perplexed at first, but worry struck his face next. “Did something happen, perhaps with Elves?”

“How did you know about Elves?” Micah asked.

Owin pressed his lips together, his eyes drifting away as he shook his head. “I believe there’s much we need to discuss. I’ll have the chefs prepare a meal and make sure a room is ready for each of you.” Owin called over a few servants and barked some orders.

“I don’t suppose you’ve heard from Raymess recently?” Vala asked.

“I haven’t.” Owin grew anxious. “What happened to him?”

No one wanted to answer, so Jek took it upon himself. “We’re…not exactly sure.”

“That’s dreadful.” Owin held his head as if in pain. If he was at all monstrous like Kasko, then he’d mastered the role of a caring noble. “I don’t believe we’ve met.” He extended his hand. “I’m Owin Lage. Are you Jek Trayden?”

Jek shook his hand, surprised the young man knew him. “I am. How did you know?”

“I could tell you were a mage from your wand, and the story of how you became the King’s Mage is popular among my company.”

The King is dead.
The thought struck Jek so suddenly he couldn’t think of anything to say, nor could he force a smile.

“I’m sorry if I upset you,” Owin said, perplexed.

“It’s not that.” Jek took a breath as he looked at Vala and the other Takarys. He felt it wasn’t his place to bring up Danvell’s murder. If anyone was going to, it should be family.

They must’ve read his thoughts, because their expressions quickly mirrored Jek’s.

“The Elves killed my father in cold blood,” Jessend said.

Owin looked deeply pained, as if he’d been struck in the stomach. Just then, a young woman in an elegant gown descended the stairs. Everyone made an effort to hide their grief, even Jek, though he didn’t understand why. There was something about the woman’s innocent face, a smile carried warmly by her lips. It didn’t seem right to sadden her.

“This is my wife, Heather,” Owin said.

Jek held in a grumble as he realized what would be next. Any time he’d dealt with nobility, there were always too many people to meet and even more formalities to follow. He was in no mood for it, wishing there was something he could say before the poor woman got involved.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all.” Then her gaze found Jessend’s. “It’s terribly awful about Kasko. I’m sorry.”

Jessend sort of nodded, her eyes watching Owin, clearly waiting for him to break character. But Jek already was convinced the man was nothing like his brother.

“What brings you all here?” Heather asked politely.

“There’s some business that needs to be discussed,” Owin interjected bluntly. It was off script from the usual formalities and could’ve been perceived as disrespectful, though Jek was glad for the noble’s dismissive tone.

Heather surprised Jek by smiling and waving her hand. “No need to say more. I’ll leave you be.” She kissed Owin’s cheek and left.

“Micah and Vala, will you follow me to the dining hall so we may speak privately?” Owin asked. “Servants can bring the Princesses and the others to their rooms. Food will be delivered as soon as it’s ready.”

“Yes, thank you,” the Queen said.

Owin removed a small bell from his belt, unlatched the stopper, and jiggled it. A horde of female servants rushed over. “Take these men and women to their rooms, the nicest we have available.”

The servants nodded silently.

“This way,” one said politely, starting toward the stairs.

Jessend and Lisanda stopped before their mother. “Come by our room when you’re finished,” Jessend said.

“I will.” Vala kissed their foreheads.

On the second floor, Jessend asked the servers, “Do you have any rooms with two beds?”

“Yes, my lady. I’ll be happy to show you to one.”

Jek thought about how they would find his sheets bloody the next morning. He wondered if he should bring it up now. Jessend poked him in the shoulder before he could decide. It was an odd habit of hers to get his attention, but he didn’t particularly mind it.

“You can stay in our room,” she said. “But Lisanda’s sharing
my
bed.”

The servants left them in their large room and escorted the guards to theirs. With his feet aching, Jek sat at a table in the middle of the room. Lisanda plopped down in the seat beside him. Jessend found a bottle of wine in a cupboard and brought it to them, along with three glasses.

“Lisanda, you must teach me how to resist psyche,” Jessend said as she filled a glass for her sister.

“That’s too much wine,” Lisanda complained.

“It’ll help you forget,” Jessend nearly whispered, as if speaking to herself. She filled her own glass to the brim and did the same to Jek’s.

“I don’t think I can teach you,” Lisanda said. “I doubt I’ll even be able to do it again.”

“Why not?” Jessend sounded like a child whose hopes had just been crushed.

“Because something happened that I hadn’t felt before. I went somewhere else, even though I knew I was still there, about to be killed.”

Jek sipped his wine as Jessend gulped hers. Lisanda paused for a gulp of her own.

“It was like a dream.” She shook her head. “This is going to sound strange. But I imagined us in the afterlife, the two of us, Raymess, our mother…and we were with Father.” The twins locked sorrowful gazes. “And of course you, Jek. All of us who were about to die. I…” She stopped, too uncomfortable to say more.

“You what?” Jessend urged her to continue. “Please, we need to figure out how to fight against them.”

“Well, Micah said we needed to move our minds and feel something strongly. So I thought of a world in the stars, without war or desmarls, grass plains and cloudless skies. I’ve always thought of the afterlife like that. It brings me comfort. And when I saw all of you there with me, I could focus on the feelings I had for you.”

“Love,” Jessend said indifferently.

“Yes,” Lisanda scoffed and waved her hand. “It sounds ridiculous, I know.”

Jessend was chewing her lip. She spoke Jek’s exact thought aloud. “I don’t think I could do that, especially while I was in as much pain as I was.”

“Same with me,” Jek agreed.

“Like I said,” Lisanda added with a sad smile, “I don’t know if I could do it again.”

By the time their food came, Jek realized he’d drank too much. He ate a little, then stopped when he felt he was about to retch.

“I need to lie down,” he said, stumbling across the spinning room to a bed. He felt Lisanda removing his shoes, then his shirt. She kissed him on the cheek when she was done.

“Thank you,” he muttered.

“You’re welcome. I’d better lie down as well.”

As the sisters whispered and prepared for bed, Jek couldn’t get the spinning image of Sannil and Kalli out of his mind. Desmarls were trampling their small city, using massive tentacles to crush and devour five people at a time. He was stuck between reality and a dream. He tried to wake up but couldn’t. So he tried to save them instead, throwing himself into the nightmare. But that didn’t work, either. All he could do was watch as his family screamed in terror.

Then Fatholl appeared and roared like a beast. With his silver hair whipping behind him, the Elf threw out his hands, and the desmarls fled. The people of Facian cheered. Then Jek finally saw himself there in the dream, hollering with Sannil and Kalli. Fatholl walked toward them, the crowd applauding as they parted to clear a path for the seemingly heroic Elf.

“Now you’re in debt to me,” Fatholl told Jek.

“But we’re enemies. I can’t possibly be in debt to an enemy.”

A gust of warm air came and lifted Fatholl’s straight hair. It had become so long that it seemed to reach the clouds, darkening the sky. Suddenly it began to rain. Lightning struck and thunder boomed.

“You had your chance,” Fatholl said, his eyes fiery red. Descending from the sky was a cloud of the deepest and darkest black.

The crowd screamed and fled for their lives. Fatholl floated away, leaving just Jek and the cloud. It grew legs and arms, then an expressionless face crept out of the shadows of its shoulders.

Jek’s darkness stomped toward him with so much force that it shook the ground. He fell and tried to crawl away, but he was bouncing in the dirt, unable to do anything but flop around like a fish on land. He wanted to look away as the darkness loomed over him, but he couldn’t. He watched in horror as the darkness jabbed its claws into his chest and ripped all the way down to his stomach.

He sat up in bed, panting. As soon as he realized where he was, he tried to quiet himself so as not to wake Jessend and Lisanda. But it was too late. Both of them were upright, peering at him through squinted eyes.

“Sorry,” he said, sitting on the side of his bed as he waited for his heart to calm. He found a clean cloth Lisanda must’ve laid out for him and dabbed his wounds with it.

Sometimes she would get up with him to help take care of his oozing cuts, though he never expected it. This time, she stayed in bed, cuddled with her sister. He sleepily wandered into the hall, looking for a servant or a room that might have clean water.

I don’t have any bandages
, he realized. Everything he hadn’t been wearing had been left at the palace, including his lucky bandana. The pain of losing it stabbed his stomach.

He chose a direction and continued onward, pressing the cloth against the scratches down his chest. They weren’t too deep, luckily. It wouldn’t be long before he’d stop bleeding.

A woman came out of her room. Not seeing Jek, she turned to walk ahead of him.

“Excuse me,” he called politely, thinking she might be a servant. But when she turned, he saw it was Heather. “Oh, I apologize,” he said.

Her brow creased. “Are you hurt?” Then she gasped and pointed nervously. “Is that from your nightmares like they say?”

Jek nodded, uncomfortable that someone he’d just met seemed to know about his darkness.

“Jek Trayden, right? I recognized you beside Lisanda.”