Chapter 13 Keelan
Despite the stress of being a Guardsman and the gruesome details of some of our cases, I rarely struggled to fall asleep.
Sergeant Sted’s training likely had more to do with that than anything.
The burly man was insatiable in his desire to ground his pupils into the dirt—or strengthen them. Some days, I wasn’t sure which.
The afternoon had yielded fewer answers than my visit to the guild. I’d run everything by Lieutenant Grieve only to receive a not-so-enlightening, “Keep at it.”
My mind was spent.
I lay in bed, staring at the rough beams of my ceiling, wondering what Declan was up to. Was he studying? Had he found friends to hang out with? Was he moping under his tree again?
My feelings where Declan was concerned were complicated.
No, that’s not right. They were simple.
I loved my brother more than anyone.
The pair of us had survived so much together. Despite my role as the older sibling, Declan’s bright smile and high-pitched giggle helped me make it through those first few years after we’d lost our parents. He was the ray of sunlight shining through the darkest sky.
I doubted he knew that.
Even if I told him it was true, which I had many times, I doubted he would believe.
He was determined to paint himself as useless, unwanted, and unloved.
That infuriated me.
He was none of those things. The boy was brilliant, even if he didn’t apply himself. He was funny and sharp and caring, everything I needed in a brother, everything I loved about him.
He could become anything, do anything, if only he believed in himself.
Okay, that wasn’t true either.
Without a Gift, there were limits. He was only sixteen. There was still hope his magic might manifest. Sometimes, it came late.
No one believed it would happen, but hope was a funny thing. With only a sliver, we clung with all our might.
I still clung to it. I wasn’t sure Declan did.
He’d given up.
I tossed onto my side and stared at the wall.
The sheets itched.
I’d missed laundry day. Again.
Great.
As my eyes drifted shut, images of my three-year-old brother appeared in my mind’s eye.
Declan and I crouched in the overgrown, tousled mess of our backyard. The goat that kept the lawn eaten short had wandered off. It was probably a good thing, as the poor thing had grown skinny over the weeks with no one to pour the heavy bag of feed into her pan.
The overgrowth didn’t seem to bother Declan.
It didn’t bother me either.
Neither did being outside by ourselves. We had grown used to spending time on our own.
The lazy summer afternoon heat threatened to swallow up any miseries we might have had, ladybugs drifting through the air around us serving as a good distraction.
One landed on a carved wooden sheep our father had crafted when I was Declan’s age. I was only eight, but I knew I had to be careful when I scooped the little bug up on my still-pudgy fingers. The bug’s colors were bright in the summer sun.
“Dec, look at this!”
Declan was only a toddler still. His eyes went wide with wonder. “Prinnybug!”
“Ladybug,” I corrected.
Declan’s lower lip jutted out. “Prinnybug.”
“You gotta learn to talk better, Dec. Ladybug. See? She’s got spots on her. It’s like Mom’s dress, and she’s a lady.”
“Prinny,” he declared, folding his tiny arms across his chest and widening his stance.
My brows furrowed. Why was he digging in on something so . . .
“You mean pretty?”
Declan nodded and beamed, showing off a mouthful of kernel-sized teeth. “Prinnybug!”
“Okay,” I laughed. “She’s pretty, but she’s also a lady.”
I spent the next few minutes trying to get Declan to say the right thing. Unfortunately for the both of us, I didn’t have my mother’s patience when it came to teaching. I rose to my feet. “Time to send her home. That way she doesn’t get squished.”
Walking slowly so I didn’t disturb the tiny thing, I made my way to the nearby brush that butted up against a thick line of forest. Heavy branches of oak trees towered overhead, dropping a litany of acorns and dried leaves.
I threw my hand up, and the ladybug took off.
Declan waved into the sky. “Buh-bye, Prinnybug!”
The bug didn’t answer, of course.
They only did that in fairy tales, and this wasn’t a fairy tale.
“It’s time to go in, buddy,” I said, surprised I didn’t receive a pout or tantrum for my suggestion.
“’Kay.” Declan’s voice was as small as the ladybug. He held out his arms and wriggled his fingers, so I picked him up and turned, carrying him back toward the house.
“You’re getting heavy.”
Declan rested his head on my shoulder while his fingers dug and released across my back.
The house felt so big.
It didn’t used to be that way. When our parents went away, it felt as though the house grew. The rooms were larger and had more shadows. Even the dinner table swelled, with more empty chairs than filled ones.
We didn’t eat there anymore.
I carried Declan into our room and put him down, then went into the kitchen to cobble together a dinner made of the few things I’d been able to keep growing.
We ate on the floor.
I tried to ignore the way that the house grew darker. When the sun set, I got up and lit candles so I could help Declan get changed and tucked into bed.
I crawled into my own bed.
I was tired but couldn’t get comfortable.
I decided to leave the candle lit, just for one night.
Just until I felt better.
I rolled over, back toward the light. The dancing flame soothed my mind, and I finally fell asleep.
Sometime later, a strange, acrid odor woke me.
I rolled over, my nose wrinkling as I tried to identify the smell.
My eyes snapped wide, and I lurched up in bed.
I knew that smell.
Smoke!
I woke with sweat soaking my sheets.
When had I thought of the fire last? It had been years, a decade perhaps.
Remembering when we lost the last of our childhood, the last remnant of parents I could no longer recall, stirred unhealed pain within my chest. I’d thought that pain long gone. I’d hoped it was locked away, never to be free.
How foolish I was to hope for such a thing.
I rolled over and kicked the blanket off my overheated body.
Why couldn’t I remember our parents? I’d been old enough when we’d lost them to know their faces. I only knew their eye color because Atikus had told me what it was.
What child loses all memory of his parents?
I shrugged off the thought and closed my eyes, desperate to get at least a little rest before another day began. Sleep was slow to come, but still it came.
As did more dreams.
The carriage ride to the Mages’ Guild was long. The pair of Guardsmen who’d taken us from our shell of a home were kind enough. Still, watching the only home I’d ever known vanish behind us through the carriage’s tiny window, it felt like the world was shifting before my eyes.
When the carriage came to a halt and the door opened, a tall man in a blue cloak smiled and said, “Come with me, little ones.”
Gripping the man’s arm for support, I stepped out into a courtyard surrounded by stone buildings whose gleaming white marble swirled and swam with blues and blacks. Etchings of the Phoenix of Magic glittered with golden lines and jeweled eyes from every door.
We were in the Mages’ Guild.
The place was more elaborate than anything I had ever seen and, somehow, also more empty. Everything was big. No, it was huge. The sound of our steps turned into thunder against the cold stones of the walkways.
We were led into a room with walls covered in ancient books.
An elderly snow-topped Mage stood before a desk with his hands clasped behind his back.
The man’s deep creases across his face reminded me of maps I’d once seen.
His deep-blue robes stretched all the way to the floor and were lined with two rows of glittering gold trim.
“Kee?” Declan asked, nudging so close I had to wrap my arm around him.
“Time to be brave, all right?” I told him.
Declan’s lower lip jutted out and quivered, but he went silent.
“What are we doing here? And who are you?” I asked, glancing around the room.
At one end, there were five oversized chairs covered in rich patterns of maroon-and-gold cloth resting on ornate legs carved with interwoven vines and leaves.
On the other end, at odds with the grandeur all around, sat a rickety wooden chair covered in worn, faded yellow cushions.
The chair was partially hidden behind a simple table the Mage used as a desk.
“Boys,” said the snow-topped man. “My name is Atikus Dani. I want you to feel welcome here, but before we take a tour, we need to chat. Is that all right?”
I was stunned the man was asking my permission to talk. Didn’t adults have the right to say whatever they wanted?
“Okay.” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you know where our parents are?”
The smile Atikus aimed at me held more sadness than I knew possible in such a gesture. My heart clenched as I waited for him to speak.
Atikus cleared his throat and took a knee, almost putting us at eye level. His voice trembled when he spoke. “Boys, they are gone. I am so sorry, but there was nothing we could do.”
“What do you mean? How? Where did they go?” Panic seized my throat.
“Your father was a good man, your mother even better. There was nothing that could be done. They . . . have been lost to us,” Atikus said.
“You were lost to us, as well. We were so caught up in trying to find your parents, we forgot to look into where you went. We thought with the neighbors, surely . . . but . . . that was not the case.”
Tears welled in my eyes.
I balled my hands into fists, wrestling the storm of emotions as understanding gripped my mind. My parents were dead, but that wasn’t why I cried. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen them and, as I closed his eyes, couldn’t even summon the image of my mother in my mind.
No, I didn’t cry for the loss of unknown parents.
Deep in my heart, I knew what the Mage’s pronouncement meant.
Declan and I were alone.
That, more than anything else, scared me.
At my side, Declan flopped down onto the floor. He pulled at his lip with two pudgy fingers and looked up at the Mage. “Mumma?”