Chapter 28 Jess
Morning came too early. I struggled to sleep, my mind wrestling with images of my father’s lifeless eyes, then my brother as he screamed from a distant balcony. When my mind drifted to images of my mother, a whirlwind of emotions threatened to rip me open.
How could one person feel angry and sad and hurt and guilty all at the same time?
Then there was Keelan.
The Guardsman’s strong fa?ade couldn’t block his own internal turmoil. It was as clear as the winter skies above. In a strange way, seeing him struggle was comforting. I didn’t feel quite so alone in my grief.
Keelan looked up from his pallet to find me tending the fire. I caught the surprise on his face and offered a tight smile and shrug. “Even a queen can be useful sometimes. Did you sleep well?” I asked, more peace offering than question.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up. “I think there’s a rock growing in my back now, but it was otherwise all right. You?”
I stared into the fire as I poked at the embers. “It will get better someday. How is that?”
“It’s a step in the right direction.”
A moan behind Keelan caught our attention as Atikus stirred to life.
“Why do I not smell bacon?” he grumbled.
“I knew I was forgetting something while we made our desperate escape from a mad queen and her army.” Keelan smirked up at me.
Atikus harrumphed and tossed a wadded sock into Keelan’s back. “Young man, the success of most journeys rests on the quality of the food. Never mock bacon.”
Keelan and I laughed.
The Mage cracked a grin.
I reached into my pack and tossed a hard roll at him, earning another round of chuckles when the Mage fumbled his bread.
It felt good to smile. I couldn’t remember how long my heart had been heavy.
After a quick breakfast of dried meat and fruit, we resumed our trek eastward with Keelan driving a steady pace, insisting we maintain our lead on any pursuers who might follow.
Aside from a few stray clouds that dropped flurries on our heads, the sky remained mostly clear.
Snow from the past couple of days remained on the ground but thankfully wasn’t growing.
The bright sky did little to ward off the cold that dug into every part of my body.
I trotted Dittler up next to Keelan. “Keelan, I should apologize for snapping last night. It was not fair, and certainly was not worthy of a queen.”
Keelan regarded me a moment.
When he spoke, his voice was that of a seasoned Guardsman, a leader forged through years of trial—and error.
“I’ve never known a queen, but I do know some pretty serious leaders back home. Some even call me one on occasion. You will need that passion if you hope to win people’s hearts. After everything you’ve been through, I’m glad you’re fighting back rather than turning inward.
Many lose themselves when faced with loss and grief, never to return to who they once were. Your openness shows strength, even if it might be a little misplaced at times.”
My mouth opened to respond, but nothing came out. I didn't know what to say.
Too often, people only saw me as the Crown Princess, little more than my title.
I was either a means to a higher station or looked down at for my youth and inexperience.
I wanted to be so much more than just a princess.
I was a strong young woman with even stronger thoughts and feelings—and fears.
My father warned me to expect no less from people, but it still hurt to think I was little more than the crown I wore to many. They didn’t see me.
Yet, Keelan continued to surprise me.
This wasn’t some reckless young man, blinded by his own strength and masculinity.
He was thoughtful and deliberate. He even accepted my anger and walked away rather than throwing it back in my face.
He treated me with respect—not exactly the respect I deserved as Queen—but the respect of an equal.
That was a lot more than I was used to from most of the fawning fools who strutted about the throne.
I was also surprised he spoke with such wisdom.
Was that the right word?
He actually sounded like my father after one of his Council meetings, when the King would spend hours walking me through the finer points of strategy, politics, and governance I witnessed in the Throne Room.
Atikus urged me to give him a chance, to get to know the man beneath the mask.
He hadn’t said anything about Keelan battling his own demons, but I thought the Guardsman’s eyes revealed something much deeper.
He was often quiet and stoic. Even now, as genuine as he sounded, his tone was as rigid as his back on his horse, as though he was briefing his commander rather than offering advice to a friend about grief and loss.
I stared at his back while we rode, reassessing my opinion of the foreign Constable with icy blue eyes.
Several days passed, blurring together in frigid succession. We traveled nearly forty leagues and had still not encountered another soul. The constant bounce and sway to traveling through untended fields made me long for the comfort of a carriage.
On the fourth night following our flight from Cradle, we again camped around a small fire. There were no trees, houses, or farms in sight.
“This place is like an endless ocean made of grass and dirt. It just goes on and on,” Keelan groused as he stirred the kettle of bubbling, thin soup dangling over the fire.
I nodded. “My father wanted more people to settle this land, to farm it. He thought the leagues between Cradle and Bo could feed the whole Kingdom if someone would just work the fields.”
Atikus elbowed past Keelan, bowl and ladle in hand. “I am less concerned with feeding the Kingdom than I am its most illustrious guest. Let me test that soup out, make sure it is fit for our Queen.”
Keelan snorted and stepped back.
Suddenly, he staggered and gripped his head with both hands.
“Keelan?” Atikus forgot his soup and stood.
Keelan wheeled around, seeming to search for something. He wobbled as his eyes grew distant and dark.
“Did one of you call me just now?” he asked, sounding like he just drank a barrel full of ale.
I shot Atikus a curious look. “No.”
He tumbled to the ground and bent his knees into his stomach, his hands squeezing his temples. Then he went limp.
Atikus hustled to Keelan’s side, checked his pulse and his breathing, then carefully lifted his eyelids with bony fingers.
“What is wrong with him?” I asked.
“I am not sure. It sounded like someone was communicating Telepathically in his mind.”
“Is it not common courtesy to announce one’s self when using Telepathy? High Chancellor Thorn would communicate mentally with my father. I remember them talking about the courtesies involved a few times.
Nothing made Father angrier than to have his private thoughts interrupted without so much as a knock at the door, as he called it.”
“That is the custom. I do not think whoever was chatting in his head cared much about courtesy.”
Atikus nodded. “What worries me more is how it affected him. I have never seen Telepathy cause a physical effect. It might be disorienting at first, but I have never known it to cause pain or render someone unconscious.”
“Do you think someone was trying to hurt him?”
“I do not know. It is possible, but it is more likely that someone is trying to find us.”
He rose from his knees with a grimace. “As far as I can tell, he is sleeping peacefully now. Hopefully, we will learn more when he wakes. We should keep an eye on him as we finish our dinner. Our mystery communicator rudely interrupted my soup, and it has probably gone cold.”
Before I could think of a crack about the Mage’s grumbling belly, the man had the fire blazing and the soup bubbling once again.
Atikus tested a spoonful before adding a few herbs and salt from his pack.
Once satisfied, he ladled a bowl for both of us and settled back onto the ground near Keelan, happily slurping, with only a tiny amount dribbling into his beard.
I eyed him over my bowl. “Why is Keelan so important to you? I can see it when you look at him and hear it when you banter. He is more like a son than someone assigned to your team.”
“What I would not give for some fresh, hot bread.” Atikus crammed one more spoonful into his mouth before turning his attention toward me.
“You have a keen eye. Keelan and his younger brother, Declan, were given into my care when they were small boys.”
A faraway look entered his eyes. “Life was simple then. I was the Chief Historian for the Mages’ Guild. I studied and taught every day, sometimes in the Academy with the future Mages. My boys roamed the halls and terrorized the staff, especially Declan. He was something else.
Those two gave that musty old place—and a few of us musty old men—new life. Those were good days.”
I gave him a moment to think. “What do you mean they were given to your care? What happened to their parents?”
The spoon paused as it reached his mouth, then he set it down and looked up thoughtfully. “The boys lost their parents. They were very dear to many of us. Their sacrifice . . .” He trailed off, his eyes lost to the distant darkness.
“Their sacrifice?”
“Yes. Sacrifice. They literally changed the path of the world, the path of every person living then and now.”
He rubbed his forehead and sighed deeply.
“Great deeds demand even greater sacrifices. They never saw the fruits of their work. They never watched their boys grow into strong young men. They gave more than anyone will ever know; and, while the world changed for the better, we lost much in their sacrifice, too.”
We finished the meal in silence.
As we rinsed our bowls, I whispered, “What was Keelan like?”
Atikus looked up, one bushy brow raised.
“As a boy. What was he like?”
This brought a warm smile to the Mage’s weathered face.
“A miniature version of what you see today—although, he was never that miniature.”
The distant look returned to his eyes, but his smile remained.
“From the day he walked into my office that first time, he was a serious, thoughtful child, consumed with protecting his brother. He was also kind and generous, offering to help with anything the Mages might need. He was a good boy.”