Chapter 20 Declan
Ithought once we came back down the mountain with a yellow ribbon in hand our timed test and perpetual questioning would end, but in the months following our Trial, the instructors who held our fates in their hands became the cruelest of task masters.
It felt more like our first few months, when senior Rangers worked to break cadets and send the unworthy home, than any course designed to add finishing touches to successful soon-to-be, newly cloaked Rangers.
Once outside the loving embrace of the Academy, Rangers tended to specialize. One might focus on forestry skills, while another might thrive on guard duty of one sort or another.
But for cadets, each day brought new and different challenges.
We were assigned, seemingly at random, to mentors who led us into the mountains on patrols, never fully understanding what we sought until we arrived at our designated patrol zone.
We were sent into the countryside to help deal with wildlife outbreaks.
On more than one occasion, we were forced to stand guard at the border as traders passed beneath the watchful gaze of our tutors.
There was no guessing what each new day might bring—or how exhausted we would be as we stumbled back into the barracks long after the sun slept.
Through some quirk of fate, or some joke played on me by the Spirits, I rarely enjoyed an assignment without Ayden appearing by my side. I didn’t loathe him as I had before the Trial, but something about him still crawled beneath my skin.
I couldn’t decide if it was his sun-kissed hair that blazed and billowed in the wind, or his perpetual smile that brightened any room he entered. It certainly couldn’t have been the witty banter that flowed from his plump lips, drawing a laugh from anyone nearby.
Spirits, he drove me mad.
And for some reason, I could not stop thinking about him.
Whatever had happened on the mountain with that majestic buck had opened windows in my soul I had never known existed.
Ayden had been there with me. He stood by my side.
His support never faltered. In fact, in my moments of deepest doubt, it was Ayden who lifted me up, who encouraged me to press forward, to win the day.
It was Ayden who offered me his courage when my own faltered.
It was Ayden who’d marveled as the deer bowed his head.
Even that near mystical moment hadn’t dimmed his gaze as it cast my way.
Now, I saw him in every cloak that passed—at least, I looked at each cloak in the hope it might be him.
His eyes were everywhere, glowing brightly, smiling at the edges at some unspoken quip only he understood.
The set of his jaw confounded me, and I woke several times with my hand extended, as my sleeping mind longed to feel his stubble against my skin.
Worse, he haunted my dreams.
In my slumbering rest, he cradled my head against his chest, brushed the hair from my cheek, kissed my forehead until I slept.
I could hear his heartbeat.
I could feel his breath.
I longed to taste his lips.
I had never wanted a man, never seen one in any way beyond that of a brother or friend. And yet, this noble, this arrogant, bright-eyed, beautiful, brilliant, handsome, talented, irritating man . . .
I was consumed by Ayden Byrne.
And I hated myself for it.
I already knew what living outside our society felt like.
Magic’s abandonment had ensured I would forever be an outcast.
If I surrendered my heart, if I gave it to .
. . would I worsen my plight, consign myself to a lifetime of jeers and jibes?
Would there be anywhere in the world where I might flee and know peace?
Would I lose my Cloak, my Ranger Green . . . before it had ever warmed my shoulders?
These feelings were foreign and frightening . . . and they called to me each time I saw him smile.
They made me want and dream and hope. . . .
“You’re quiet today,” Shira said, bumping me with her shoulder as she raised her tankard, her third since we’d entered the tavern.
Shira had stood by my side since the day we first darkened the Academy’s doors.
Daughter of a long line of silk Merchants, she’d struggled with archery and other combat skills.
I helped her through. In turn, she ensured I passed every course in history and lore, two subjects about which I had little interest and even less aptitude.
Beyond studies, Shira was funny, bright, and possessed a tongue sharper than any dagger on any belt in the Guard.
“Sorry, guess I’ve been in my own head lately.”
She eyed me over the top of her mug. A group of cadets sang loudly in the corner. Their words were so garbled, I doubted even they knew what they sang.
“This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain flame-headed noble, would it?” A grin crept toward the edges of her eyes.
I furrowed my brow and pretended to not understand. “Who?”
She set her mug down, crossed her arms, and glared. “Declan Rea, don’t you dare try toying with me. You may have everyone else fooled into thinking you’re married to the Rangers Corps, but I know who makes your heart beat faster.”
Dammit, how could I forget about her Gift?
Shira’s twin ponytails, wide smile, and innocent eyes made it hard to take her seriously at times. It was easy to forget she was one of the most formidable cadets to enter the Academy in decades.
“You know I can literally hear your heartbeat, right?”
“He just pisses me off, that’s all.”
“You’re a terrible liar.” She snorted and grabbed her ale. “Besides, your heart started doing that thing the moment I mentioned Ayden.”
“Shh,” I said, motioning with one palm and leaning forward. “Fine, you caught me, though I’m not sure what you caught me doing. I haven’t figured any of it out yet.”
Her nose scrunched like she’d smelled something awful. “What’s there to figure out? I mean, besides which of you gets to be the man and—”
“Shira!”
She chuckled. “Right. Nobody with hair like yours could ever be the man.”
I turned and folded my arms on the bar, then fell over to bury my face in them.
I could feel the army of bottles glaring down from their shelves behind the barman, the stares of the others seated at rickety tables packed so tightly shoulders bumped as knives sawed through tough meat.
My face was burrowed into my arms, but I was sure the brilliant redness glowing from my ears signaled my utter horror to everyone within sight.
Shira’s laughter rose above the raucous singing in the corner.
Then her hand landed on the center of my back and began rubbing circles. “There, there, little one.”
I lifted my head enough for her to hear my voice. “I don’t know what to do, Shira. He drives me mad, makes my blood boil, pisses me off . . . and I can’t stop thinking about him.”
“Did anything happen on your Trial?”
“No. Absolutely not.” I sat up and faced her, snatching my stein off the bar and downing the last of it in one gulp.
She motioned for the bartender to bring another round, then asked, “Did you want something to happen?”
“No. I mean, I don’t think so. I still hated him then. Not that I don’t hate him now, although, I don’t, not really. I just don’t . . . shit. I don’t know what to think or how to feel. I sure don’t know what to say or how to act. I try to avoid him,
but the damn seniors keep putting us in the same classes and pairing us on missions.”
“Really?”
I nodded. “We’ve already been paired for crossing watch. That’s another three days straight I have to work next to him.”
“Have to? Or get to?” Her smirk said more than her questions.
“Both, maybe. I don’t know.” The new beers arrived, and I drank half of mine without taking a breath.
“Easy, Ranger,” Shira said, one hand on my arm forcing my stein away from my lips. “It’s not worth getting so snockered that you can’t pull duty tomorrow.”
“I guess.”
“Have you talked to him? Does he know how you feel? Do you even know how he feels?”
I shrugged. “I haven’t said anything, but I’m pretty sure he likes me. He’s always smiling and finding some excuse to pat my back and grip my forearm. On the Trial, he got really close once, and I thought . . .”
“Don’t stop. You thought what?”
“I thought he was going to . . . you know . . .”
“What? Declan, what?”
“Kiss me.”
“That’s anticlimactic.”
“What the fuck?” I blanched. “A man almost kissed me and you call that anticlimactic.”
She shrugged. “Anything short of ‘he juggled my nuts’ was going to be disappointing.”
“Shira!”
“Come on, Declan. You’re a big boy—at least, I assume you are. You’re tall and—”
“Shira—”
She smirked. “Let’s assume you’re of juggle-able size. You were alone in the woods on a mountain with no one but squirrels and deer to watch. If you were ever going to figure things out, that was the time. You could’ve at least let him get a little lip action.”
“You’re assuming I have myself figured out enough to sort through how I feel about him.”
“Oh, really?” For the first time since we’d started dancing on ridiculously thin ice, she looked surprised. “You mean . . . you didn’t know? Seriously?”
I opened my mouth, then closed it. Then opened it again, but nothing came out.
“I see,” Shira said. “Declan, wow. No wonder you have had a lot on your mind.”
My head drooped, and my fingers began fidgeting. I couldn’t meet her gaze. I couldn’t take any more judgement, least of all from her. I needed her with me, in my corner, no matter what. The thought she might not want me near her because . . .
“Declan, I can see your head spinning. It’s going to pop off if you keep that up.”
I tried not to smile, but Shira was impossible.
“When did you first think you might, you know . . .” She glanced around to make sure no one was within earshot, then leaned toward me and whispered, “like man arse.”
“Shira!” I nearly spit my ale.
“That’s what it is, right? I know you like the other bits, but it’s mostly about the arse, isn’t it?”
“I have no idea. Did you miss the part where this is all new to me?”
“You mean . . . you haven’t . . .”
My head shook slowly.
Her eyes widened again.
“Oh, Declan, my little baby bird with his fuzzy feathers and broken wing.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not that bad.”
“How old are you?”
“Almost twenty.”
“And you’ve never stuck your sword into a sheath?” She pantomimed exactly that.
“Can you keep your acting to yourself?” I hissed, glancing about for onlookers. Thankfully, no one was paying the least attention to us. “No, I haven’t.”
“Not even with women?”
I shook my head again.
Her mouth made an O, and her eyes found another level of widening.
I gulped ale, finishing the second tankard in only a handful of minutes.
She eyed me, then sat back, propping one elbow on the bar.
“Wow. A raw recruit, forgive the pun.”
I raised a less-than-appropriate finger.
“That certainly explains why nothing happened on the mountain,” she mused.
I shrugged. “Are you forgetting the part where I actively loathed Ayden at the time?”
Shira ran fingers across her chin, as if to contemplate the depth of that question.
“About that. Why, exactly, did you hate this man? From what I’ve seen, he’s one of the few good ones here. I get to hate him because he plays for your team. You don’t have an excuse, unless there’s more you’re not telling me. Did he shoot you in practice? Abuse a member of your unit?
Play with your unit? Never mind, I already know that hasn’t happened.”
I tried desperately not to laugh knowing that would only encourage her.
“You’re a terrible friend. Why do I stay with you?”
“Because you’re scared of everyone else who wants to be with you.”
“Fuck off.”
“You first.” She raised her mug, then took a long pull. “Now, answer the question. Why did you hate him?”
“I honestly don’t know.” I stared into my ale, hoping it would give me answers.
“I saw him that first day, like a shiny new copper—or gold, in his case—and it just felt like some rich kid privilege had let him skip First Year and become an instant Ranger, like we were getting stuck with some dandy who’d never be able to have our backs.”
Her brows rose. “You really thought about it, didn’t you?”
I let out a sigh. “Not really. I did think he looked stuck up, and he did laugh at my cadets, but that was about it. I guess I assumed the rest.”
She sipped her beer, a change from the charging guzzle from a moment earlier.
“Do you think you might’ve actually liked him but were fighting it?”
“No, of course—” Her cocked brow silenced me. I stared into my mug again, then looked up. “Maybe. Shira, what am I supposed to do? You know how the other Rangers look at men who . . . at men who aren’t like them. I’m already second class because of my plain collar. If I let this—”
“Declan,” she said, her voice suddenly soft. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, my gaze rose to meet hers.
“You are one of the best men I have ever known, and you’re a damn fine Ranger . . . or will be soon. The Captain won’t drum you out because you fall for another Ranger. He’s not like that. You might catch some shit from the guys, but who cares? If it isn’t this, it’ll be something else.
That’s just how Rangers are.”
She leaned forward and gripped my forearm.
Her eyes searched mine, and a lump formed in my throat.
“I love you so much it hurts, and if you ever repeat that, I will kill you.”
I chuckled. She glared.
“Life is too short to let arseholes choose your fate. It’s definitely too short to let them choose who you love. If you like Ayden, tell him. Let the chips fall. You both deserve the truth, either way.”
Shira sat back, and I lost myself in thought again.
“Besides.” She seized my attention again. “You getting laid will do more for the morale of the rest of us than anything. You’re a whiney prick when your balls are blue.”
My mouth opened, but before anything could fall out, she hopped up, grabbed her beer, winked, and strode across the tavern, leaving me alone with my ale and my thoughts . . . and a stupid, boyish grin.