Page 157 of An Archer's Redemption

Staring out at the waning sun casting rays of brilliance across the island, I missed her more than I could express.

Spirits, how I missed her.

“Tell me more about your Rangers,” I said, desperate to change the subject to something—anything—that didn’t make my heart ache.

“My Rangers?” He chuckled. “They named me a Captain, but I am not the Captain.”

“It’s only a matter of time. You lordlings always end up in charge. If it isn’t some ridiculous birthright thing, it’s all those coins you keep hidden beneath your bed.”

He snorted and punched my arm. “I keep my coin buried in the ground, thank you very much.”

I shook my head. “Sound plan. Now, back to the Rangers. You’ve been hard at work. I had to kidnap you and drag you to a faraway island just to get a little alone time.”

“Is that jealousy in your voice? My, my, Mister High Holy of Magic.”

Now it was my turn to punch his arm, but he snatched my fist before it could connect and raised it to his lips. I thought my heart might melt and dribble down the cliff.

Ayden released my hand and sobered. “We are recruiting as quickly as possible. Before we left the mainland, our count had just reached four hundred.”

I whistled. “That many? In, what, eight months? Even with all the damage to the capital?”

He nodded. “We are vetting applicants carefully, ruling out those who have families who need them to help rebuild. Without those guardrails, we would be well over a thousand. Our goal is to ultimately build a force of five thousand green cloaks.”

I blinked. Five thousand Rangers. Melucia had never fielded so large a corps.

“I know.” He chuckled at the surprise in my eyes. “It is . . . overwhelming.”

“Ayden, it’s amazing. You’re amazing.”

The most beautiful crimson flared across his cheeks as his head ducked, though he couldn’t hide the smile that curled his lips.

“How’s Grove’s Pass?”

His smile fled.

“The first Mages arrived a few weeks ago. The guild only has so many to spare. They lost . . . we all lost so much.”

We sat in silence for a long moment, savoring the mountain air and waning sunlight, each lost in memories of days—and people—before the war.

“Dec, we are going to rebuild everything. The corps and headquarters—hell, all of Grove’s Pass—will be stronger and better than before. One of the Mages is planning the whole thing out. You should see his models. They’re marvels in themselves.”

“I can’t wait to see them.”

“But . . .” He hesitated. “We are doing more than simply rebuilding. We want to remember. No, we want everyone to remember.”

“What do you mean?”

“The first thing the Mages built was a monument to those we lost. It is . . . I hardly know how to describe it. It looks like glass, but it’s not. The Mages . . . Dec . . .”

I cocked my head. Ayden was never at a loss for words.

“It’s a sculpture as clear as ice but made of stone. It is a giant flame that towers far above the height of the old headquarters. And . . .” He squeezed his eyes shut, as if picturing the flame in his mind. “It never stops moving. Dec, it looks as if real flames churn within the glassy surface.”

“That sounds . . . beautiful.”

“And terrifying, if I am honest.” He looked back at me. “The name of every Ranger lost flares in gold, a perpetual roll call of those who died. The Mages really outdid themselves.”

“Sounds like it.”

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