Page 13 of An Archer's Redemption

And then it started.

I staggered back a step.

Understanding replaced terror, understanding of thetrueGift that rested in my hands, the Gift that would place me on the throne at last.

Chapter 5

Ayden

Walking down the Keeper’s mountainside Path was surreal. With each stride Declan took, the stones of the Path on which he stepped glowed with cerulean light, then faded to darkness as he moved forward. When we reached the outskirts of the village, children flowed out like the sea’s waves rushing toward the shore. Their cries and squeals were almost as loud as crashing waves, too.

The first boy to wrap his spindly arms around Declan begged him to make his tunic flare. Then the second added her voice. Then a third. We laughed and flared our way for hundreds of paces before reaching the town proper.

Adults soon followed, then Larinda, the Mother of the island. Her weathered face beamed as she gripped Declan’s face in her palms. He sank into her as one might curl beneath a favorite blanket.

The old woman surprised us both by turning toward me. “And you must be Ayden.” She winked at Declan, adding, “You’ve done a’right fer yerself, boy. This one’s tasty.”

I turned eight shades of red.

Larinda cackled.

Declan doubled over.

It appeared as though the entire world marked his passing, welcomed him into their arms, and lifted him on their shoulders.

The broad smile that parted his lips the moment the first fuzzy-headed boy tried to tackle him outside of town remained fixed on his face throughout the hours-long lunch Larinda insisted we attend. Villagers packed the local inn where a ridiculously tall, painfully thin man tended bar, served tables, and wove between rowdy diners faster than I thought possible.

We ate our fill of fish plucked fresh from the sea and vegetables grown by rugged hands.

There was no chatter of wars or battles. No one spoke of evil spirits or long-dead queens.

There was only laughter and an overwhelming sense of communal love.

At the center of it all was Declan.

As the last of the platters were cleared, and a final round of ale was poured, Larinda and Declan leaned toward one another and chatted. My heart warmed watching the pair. No cloak ever woven could have hidden the affection between them. And despite the seriousness painting each of their faces, I knew the reunion filled each of their souls.

For some reason unknown to me, it filled mine with questions.

Before the invasion, when Declan and I were still cadets trying to pass exams and not hate each other too much, I knew who I was. When I realized how hopelessly I’d fallen for him, I knew myself even better. When he professed his own feelings, and my heart threatened to burst free, I knew my path forward.

Now, after spending time with Declan and his mother, the Keeper of the Well of Magic, and seeing him interact with the inhabitants of this island, I was no longer sure I knew anything.

He did not simply have a Gift. He possessed many Gifts. Spirits, he was chosen by magic to guard our world from evil and darkness.

And I thought being a lord’s son came with pressure and expectations.

My silly insecurities were nothing next to what everyone demanded of him.

I loved and respected him so much—more than I’d ever experienced with anyone.

It was not the power he wielded or the knowledge he now possessed; it washis way.

He drew people to him.

They wanted to be near him, to know him, to love him.

Even without his talking owl, Declan became the center of every room he entered. Now, with a reputation and fame matched by only the Queen herself, he was a blazing sun in a sea of twinkling stars.

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