Page 106 of An Archer's Redemption

“Keelan!”

He dropped his pack just inside the chamber. When the doors closed behind him, he barely blinked.

I took a few steps forward, my brow creased with concern. “Keelan, what is it? What is wrong?”

“Jess, I—” His voice broke.

I raced to him, and despite his road-worn state, wrapped my arms around him and held him. I felt the warmth of his breath on my neck, then the pressure of his hands against my back. His powerful arms encircled me—and his chest heaved.

“Oh, Keelan. What happened?” I couldn’t imagine what could reduce such a strong, steady man to tears.

I lost track of how long we held each other.

He finally spoke in a hushed voice. “I can’t feel my Gift anymore. Jess, I tried over and over. I can’t feel the nagging sensation when something isn’t right. I can’t tell when someone is lying. I can’t protect you—or Atikus or Declan—oranybodyanymore.”

I pulled back and gripped his face with my hands. “Keelan, look at me.”

I waited until he gathered himself enough to hold my eyes. “Everyone’sGifts are gone. Everyone’s. Even the Mages’. It is not just yours. Something has happened to magic that we have yet to understand, but we are working on it.”

He tried to look away, but I held his face.

“Wearegoing to fix this somehow. We will make it right, but your Gift is not what makes you special. It is not how you protect people. Your Gift is just a tool. Yes, it is powerful, and yes, it is part of you, but it does not define who you are, and it certainlydoes nottake away your ability to help those you care about.”

He nodded, but I wasn’t convinced he believed me. The small boy looming over me looked more frightened than I had ever seen him, and I had no idea how to reassure him with more thanhollow words. My heart ached as I stared into the anguish of his eyes.

Hours later, when I entered the family dining room, Keelan was already standing politely behind his chair. He’d shed his dusty uniform, bathed, shaved, and donned a sharp, tightly fitting charcoal-gray coat piped with golden thread. His eyes were so brilliant against the darkness of his coat I nearly missed a step, wobbling on one foot before righting myself. Keelan was there in a flash, offering a hand to steady me, never looking amused at my predicament.

That simple act made my heart flutter even more.

Dinner was served exactly one half hour from the time I asked my maids to alert the kitchens. Being Queen carried unfathomable weight and responsibility, but the food and service were to die for. The staff brought platters of roasted turkey and vegetables lathered in garlic and butter.

The fresh, steaming bread appeared to be Keelan’s favorite.

He hadn’t eaten that day and was clearly starving.

He dove into the turkey with ravenous abandon and savored rich sauces that drenched the vegetables. Midway through, a frightening thought struck—would the stink of the herbs and garlic prevent a repeat performance of our kiss in the gardens?

Conversation was awkward at first, until I caught one of the older serving women grinning, her eyes glittering. The Queen emerged and sent that woman to the kitchen for more . . .whatever. The maid curtsied and giggled as she scurried out of the room to bring her moonstruck Queen a giant platter ofsomething.

At that point, we were able to pull ourselves together enough to start a proper conversation.

Keelan asked how things were going with Council appointments, knowing that particular duty still nagged at me daily.

I asked about his journey, avoiding the gruesome parts. He obliged with small talk of the people and village of Oliver.

I asked how Dittler was treating him, grinning as I remembered how the stallion nipped at the giant man every time he came near.

His fork froze halfway to his mouth. “Jess, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot. You haven’t seen Dittler in over a week. I’m sure he would love a visit. Care for a walk by the stables, then through the gardens?”

I beamed. “I cannot believe I had not thought to visit him either. I would love that.”

I set my fork down, having licked it clean of the blueberry dessert we’d just devoured, as he rose and extended a hand. “May a humble Constable take the Queen for an evening stroll?”

I giggled like some love-maddened girl and stood.

Taking his hand, I lifted my chin and said in her most imperious voice, “We are pleased with your offer. Lead on, good sir.”

A few moments later, we stood outside the stables. I still wore my garnet gown and pearl necklace. The plan was to pay Dittler a quick visit, then stroll through the gardens. I would come back in the morning in my riding leathers and give my stallion a bit of proper exercise.

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