Chapter 27 Declan
Istared as the cart rolled away and vanished around a turn.
“Declan? What is it?” Ayden asked.
I remained still, my gaze fixed on the last place where I could see the vehicle.
“That was well done.” I heard the Lieutenant’s gruff voice behind us.
“What is bothering you?” Ayden asked, not even acknowledging the Lieutenant’s praise.
“I can see it all over your face.”
I ran a hand through my hair and looked past Ayden into the woods. “I don’t know.”
The Lieutenant stepped between us then, facing me. “Did you see something?”
I shook my head. “No, sir. There was nothing in the cart. I checked several times, even tested for a false floor.”
“What’s the problem, then?”
I hesitated. “It just . . . didn’t feel right. Something felt strange.”
The Lieutenant’s eyes began to roll.
“Sir, I know it sounds insane, but I swear—”
“Cadet, out here, you learn to trust your gut. It can save your life; but, if there was nothing in the cart, there was nothing in the cart. It’s simple as that.”
“Yes, sir,” I said through gritted teeth.
The Lieutenant eyed me a moment longer, shook his head, then said, “You two, take a break. Be back in half an hour.”
“Yes, sir,” I said as the man strode away without waiting for a reply.
“Come on, I could use a drink,” Ayden said. He gestured for me to follow him.
As we passed the group of soldiers who stood back up by the crossing, we could hear them laughing as the Lieutenant joked about the “jumpy” cadets and their imagined dangers. My head lowered.
“Great. The men already look at me sideways for the damn collar, now they’ll wonder if I have something loose between my ears.” I could feel embarrassed heat crawling over my cheeks.
“We already know that is the case. You are bat-shit crazy, Declan Rea,” Ayden teased.
I barely glanced up.
“Come on, Declan. You know I jest.”
“Yeah.” I didn’t have the heart to laugh.
We reached the wagon’s flatbed. Nestled among the other crates of supplies was a massive metal pot filled with water. Ayden grabbed a ladle and filled two mugs, handing one to me.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, raising the mug to my lips.
Ayden looked about and, finding no one within earshot, asked, “What was it about that cart that bothered you?”
I stared at my boots. “It’s stupid. The Lieutenant is right.”
“Stop that.” Ayden reached up, gripped my shoulder, and turned me so we faced each other. “Talk to me, Declan. Tell me what you saw.”
My eyes squeezed shut as frustration flowed through me. I felt stupid and embarrassed—and sure something was amiss—though I couldn’t see through my own doubts how to resolve any of it.
“I didn’t see anything. It’s what I couldn’t see that bothered me.”
I felt silly, but the sincerity in Ayden’s eyes urged me on.
“I don’t know, Ayden. It felt like there was something there, just out of reach. As though . . . if I could just look closer or reach out, it would be there. At one point, I put my hand on the side to lean over, and I swear it vibrated.”
“Vibrated?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Like someone kicked the side. It was sudden and violent. I could feel it thrumming through the wood. I nearly jumped back, but I knew the guys were watching and didn’t want to look foolish.”
“Could you hear anything?”
I shook my head again. “No. Nothing but the forest.”
Ayden thought a moment. “The men were pretty strange, too. Did you see those masks?”
I nodded but was lost in thought and didn’t respond.
“I remember something about a group called the Children from my studies a few years ago, but I have never seen one . . . at least, not before today.”
“You think that’s who that was? The Children?”
Ayden nodded. “The man even said something like, ‘We are Children headed home.’ While you were searching the back, I was scouring my mind for anything I could remember from those lessons. All I could recall was that they wanted to bring Irina back.”
“Irina? Queen Irina? The one who died, what, a thousand years ago?”
Ayden nodded.
“Why would they want to do that?”
“Who knows? Why do fanatics do anything? Blind allegiance to their faith? Following their leader? There could be a thousand reasons, none making any sense to the rest of us.”
“Right.” I was still a moment, then glanced up. “You believe me?”
“Of course I do.” Ayden’s lips curled upward, and he placed a hand on my arm.
My eyes fell to his hand.
My heart danced.
Heat flooded through my chest and up my neck.
My mouth went dry.
“Yes, I believe you. If you say you felt something odd, then there was something odd. You have good instincts and are an honest man.”
Ayden stared into the forest, not catching all the signs of my discomfort.
“Although I am still unsure what you experienced. What you describe sounds like magic, but we would need a Mage to truly help us understand.”
“Magic,” I snorted, my voice dripping with derision. “No fear of that being involved, at least, not with me around.”
“Declan—”
“Fucking Gift. Even out here, in the middle of nowhere, the damn collars find a way to shove themselves in my face. I hate magic, hate it with everything I have.”
“I get it,” he said quietly. “Even with my father’s name, the Gifted nobles see me differently. It feels like . . . like they’re watching a cripple struggle by. I guess I’ve learned to live with it, but still . . .”
“Exactly.” I nodded, looking up to find pain in Ayden’s eyes, a pain I hadn’t noticed until that moment, a pain I knew too well. “I wish the stupid Phoenix would just fly away or die or whatever . . . just never come back.”
A heartbeat passed, then Ayden’s head shook as a smirk teased his lips.
“What’s so funny? Don’t tell me you’re laughing at me, too?”
“I am not laughing at you. Neither of us has a Gift. Why would I laugh?”
“You’ve got that shit-eating grin on your face, the one you always have right before you make some snide joke.”
Ayden’s smile grew, finally reaching his eyes. “You know my expressions?”
I rolled my eyes. “You aren’t exactly subtle, little lordling. So, out with it. What witty bit of wisdom do you have about the Phoenix for the poor little Mute?”
“Poor little Mutes? I like that.” Ayden chuckled, flicking his own barren collar. “And the Phoenix couldn’t truly die. She would simply be reborn from her ashes in a new form. You know that’s how Phoenixes work, right?”
I crossed my arms like an angry three-year-old. “That’s not funny, and it doesn’t help.”
“I thought it was funny, especially with you plotting her death.”
“I wasn’t plotting. I was wishing. There’s a difference.”
“Oh?” Ayden’s brows raised.
“If I plotted, she might have a reason to eat me . . . or whatever she does when she’s pissed.”
Ayden laughed. “Eat you? The Phoenix. That’s great.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
“I doubt she would do that either, no matter how handsome you are.”
An uncomfortable silence stretched between us, as the possible implications of that comment sank in.
“Anyway,” Ayden returned to the topic at hand. “We would need a Mage to help us truly understand what you experienced, assuming magic was involved.”
I chuckled. “If we were in Saltstone, I know a few hundred men in blue who’d love to help.”
Ayden stared, waiting, but I didn’t say more.
His hand had remained on my arm throughout, forgotten . . . almost. I could feel the reassuring heat of his palm.
“So,” Ayden said, his voice low, unsure. “You started to say something before.”
“What?” I woke from my daydream of Mages back home.“Before that cart rolled up, you were going to say something. It sounded important.”
“Oh.” My cheeks flushed. When Ayden’s hand fell away, my arm suddenly felt empty, like something was missing. “It was . . . um . . . nothing. I was just thinking, you know, about graduation, our postings . . . and stuff.”
Ayden eyed me.
I dug both hands into my mop of hair and tugged. I wanted to be honest with Ayden now, to tell him everything I thought and felt, but my nerves were raw and my courage was well and truly gone.
“We should get back,” I said. “Thanks for, you know, believing me and all.”
I didn’t wait for Ayden.
I nearly ran to the crossing.
Two hours after the sun fell behind the mountains and the autumn chill consumed the air, Ayden and I were allowed to return to Grove’s Pass.
“Spirits, that was a long day,” Ayden said, rubbing his neck as the cart rolled to a stop in the center of town.
“I don’t think I can feel my feet anymore,” I agreed. “And I think I could eat a whole cow. I’ve never been so hungry.”
Ayden laughed. “Should I warn the mess hall? They might never recover. I have seen you eat.”
I brandished a petulant finger, earning another laugh.
“I think the mess is safe. It’s too late for them. By the time we get to the HQ, they’ll be put away.”
“The tavern, then? My treat?” Ayden asked.
My brow lifted. “Dipping into the royal purse? How could one refuse?”
Ayden punched my shoulder. “We have no royals in Melucia, but if you wish to address me as Your Grace, you may do so.”
I snorted. “I’ve seen you fight. There’s nothing graceful about you.”
“Hey!”
I winked and darted across the road toward the tavern.
Raucous laughter and music greeted us the moment the doors opened.
First Years mingled in small groups near the bar, while Second Years packed around tables at the center of the sprawling common room.
Some laughed and ate, while others gambled with dice or cards.
Green-cloaked Rangers huddled in twos and threes, mostly in darkened corners where the younger men and women were less likely to disturb them.
“Ayden!” one Second Year called the moment he’d entered. “Bring that fat purse over here. We need a sucker to donate to our very worthy charity.”
The men around the one who’d yelled laughed and raised tankards in salute, shouting for Ayden—and his purse—to join them.
“Somebody’s popular,” I mused.
Ayden shook his head. “My coins are popular. Me, not so much.”
He’d meant the comment in jest, I was sure, but there was something behind his words that pricked at my senses, something deeper.
“You want to join them?” I asked.
“No, I’m hungry, too. Maybe after we eat.”
I nodded. “All right.”
The only unoccupied table was wedged in no-man’s land between the First and Second Years. Ayden begged off gambling and led us on a circuitous route to our table. A young girl flew by, leaving two tankards of ale in her wake and calling back, “My brother will bring your dinner in a moment.”
I raised my ale. “To a hard day’s work.”
Ayden returned the toast, “To the Cloak.”
Men around us overheard and mirrored Ayden’s words. “To the Cloak,” echoed off the walls. Even the full Rangers hiding in the corners lifted mugs at the centuries-old salute.
Those around us quickly returned to their games and drinking, leaving Ayden and me hungrily waiting for our promised meal. Thankfully, we didn’t have to wait long. A rotund boy with sandy hair and pockmarked cheeks shoved through the crowd.
“Roasted chicken, potatoes, and green . . . something,” the boy said, as he laid plates before us. “There’s stew if you want some, but I don’t know what’s in it. Smells a little funny, if you ask me.”
Ayden’s nose wrinkled. “I will stick with the chicken, thank you.”
I raised my fork. “Bring it on. I’m starving.”
The boy nodded, then melted back into the crowd.
“After what he just said? You’re really—”
I pooched out my belly, rubbing in circles. “Man hungry. Man need food.”
Ayden shook his head and stabbed at the unidentified greens.
When we finished eating, Ayden was pulled into a game of dice. I stood behind him, my empty pockets unnoticed by the gamblers.
The rules were simple. Three dice were rolled.
Any combination without a three turning up was a win for the roller.
Any three displayed meant victory for those gambling against him.
If more than one three showed up, the damages doubled or tripled.
The entire game was a tip-of-the-hat to the Triad who ruled in Saltstone, and had been played for centuries by Guardsmen and Rangers alike.
A half dozen rolls in, Ayden had yet to stand a turn without hitting at least one three, doubling twice.
“You really suck at this,” I said, laughing behind him.
“That’s our little lord!” one man called as Ayden doubled again.
“Purse! Purse! Purse!” rang across the bar.
Ayden stepped back and raised both palms. “I am out.”
A chorus of boos and awws followed his retreat.
Ayden threw his hands wide. “A Ranger must know when to withdraw.”
Grime-covered cloth napkins pelted him from every direction.
“We’d better get out of here before your subjects rebel, Your Grace,” I teased, my breath thick with ale.
Ayden allowed himself to be ushered through the pack of cadets and out to the road. A cool, brisk wind whipped our tunics, as a misting rain pelted our skin.
“When did this mess start?” I called over the wind, my stagger increasing to a trot. “Come on. Let’s get back to the barracks before this opens up.”
We ran across town, weaving behind buildings and down moonlit alleyways, nearly making it halfway before Ayden stumbled, his footing still unsure from his five tankards of ale. I grabbed for him, but he fell onto the dirt-packed cobbles and lay unmoving.
My heart thudded at the sight.
“Ayden.” I leaned down and gripped his shoulders, turning him over. Mud smeared his forehead, but I couldn’t find any cuts or blood. “Are you all right? Look at me. Ayden!”
Ayden’s eyes opened and found mine.
The world froze.
My breath caught.
Ayden’s hand rose, and his fingers trailed the stubble of my jaw, so gentle, yet firm.
I shivered.
I couldn’t move.
I could barely think.
Without a thought, I leaned down, so close I could taste Ayden’s breath, now rich with the ale and cherry from cobbler. Sweet upon sweet. I longed to taste everything, to feel him, to know—
“Declan,” Ayden whispered, his voice hoarse and raw.
His hand sank deep into my curls, gripping my hair, claiming me.
My whole body tensed.
My heart raced.
Our lips were so close.
Lightning flashed in the distance, framing Ayden’s face.
Copper curls fell limp about his shoulders, an aura of gold and flame.
His eyes sliced through the gloom, pearls of endless blue that pierced my soul.
Spirits, he’s beautiful.
I gulped back fear, swallowed years of terror and longing, bit back every doubt I’d ever known.
Thunder clapped.
Ayden’s fingers dug into my scalp.
I leaned closer, our lips and tongues now only a breath apart.
And the storm raged in earnest, dousing the alley and us with it.
I pulled back, gripped Ayden’s shoulders, and lifted.
“Come on. Let’s get to the barracks before we drown.”