3. Ayden

Chapter three

Ayden

D espite the unforgiving cave floor, I slept deeply. And in that space between rousing and the last moments of sleep, one final dream came into my mind.

Kingdom soldiers fanned out among the trees, arrows nocked, bows ready. Scouts stretched for miles in every direction, trudging slowly through the brush.

"Here!" a shout rang out.

The line collapsed as uniformed men encircled a prone form.

"Fire!" a man yelled.

Bowstrings twanged.

Arrows thwacked.

A man screamed, then his voice died on the wind. It sounded so familiar. I could almost . . .

Declan.

He threw off his blanket and staggered to his feet, then fell to his knees as arrows slammed into his shoulder, then his side, then his stomach.

He stared ahead, seeing but not, as blood poured from his wounds and leaked from his mouth.

Frantic, I searched for something, anything, I could do to help.

I wanted to run to him, to wrap my arms around him and block the blows that continued to fall.

But I wasn't there.

I was an unseen observer, consigned to the trees where time and space did not exist. I was helpless as my love withered and died.

I screamed, "No! Declan! Spirits, help me, please!"

I jolted awake, scrambling from beneath the blanket and off the bedroll, gasping for air, as tears fell in bitter streams down my face. I stumbled across the cavern to where the water flowed and doused my face in its icy breath.

"Lordling?" Declan's groggy voice followed me to the brook.

He was by my side before I could rise from my crouch. His arms wrapped around me, and his hand brushed my hair back like my mother so often had when I was a child.

"What is it, Ayden? What happened?"

An awkward laugh escaped. "I had a dream, a nightmare, that's all. It startled me awake. I'm fine. "

Declan sat on the stone and pulled me into him, kissing my cheek and burying my head in his warmth. "I've got you, little lordling. You're okay now."

I laughed, a muffled sound with my mouth smothered by his chest.

"What now?" he asked.

"Lordling? Really? You're never going to stop calling me that, are you?"

He smiled and smoothed my hair again. His touch granted more peace than any priest could muster. "You're my little lordling."

"Great. So that's a yes? I'm stuck with that nickname?"

I was torn between kissing the cute smugness from his face and marveling at the stunning man sitting there, comforting me, wanting me. Declan was so many things I would never be, and yet, he had spent much of his life doubting his own worth. I wanted to grab his shoulders and shake him, shake sense into his thick skull, shout to the world how amazing and brilliant and wonderful he was.

But in that moment, all I could do was smile a goofy, boyish grin at the way his eyes sparkled— for me .

"Yep. Until you tire of me."

I sat back and held his gaze. "I just won you over, and Spirits, that took a lifetime's worth of work. Already thinking about a time when I'm gone?"

He lifted one brow. "You were quite the arse when we first met. "

I shoved him back and made to rise, but darkness suddenly clouded his eyes, and his head lowered.

"Dec, what is it?" I crossed my legs facing him and lifted his chin.

He blew out a sigh, then he sat silently so long I feared he might not answer.

"It's this mission. I don't know how long I'll be gone . . . and we just . . . I just . . ."

I laughed.

His head cocked to the side.

"You're not going to lose me over some mission. I'll just go with you. You know they never send just one Ranger anywhere. Two are more likely to succeed, where one might be waylaid or killed. Was that not one of our first lessons?"

Declan nodded slowly, then spoke even more so. "It was, but . . . this is different."

"How so?" I crossed my arms.

He sighed again. "Ayden, I want to tell you . . . to tell you everything, but this isn't some trek through the forest to find a bandit hideout. The whole of Melucia could rest on . . ."

I waited for him to go on, to tell me what hung in the balance and how one man could stave off that disaster, but he only stared at hands that fidgeted in his lap.

"Talk to me, Dec. Let me help you. You know you can trust me. "

He looked up, and whatever haunted his eyes stilled my tongue.

"Ayden, this is beyond you and me. I don't know . . . There's no way I'll be enough to do . . . whatever it is they want me to. I'm not even sure where I'm going or how all this will work, but I swore . . . I swore to Atikus and the Arch Mage—"

"The Arch Mage?" My eyes nearly bugged out of my head. "As in the Arch Mage? The high man of magic himself? When have you talked to him? We've been on this damn mountain."

"Atikus . . . he and . . . shit, I don't know. This all happened so fast and . . . Ayden . . . the last thing I want is to leave you right when . . . when we're just starting to . . . fuck. I have to do this. I just have to."

I watched him struggle, his fingers a blur of movement and his eyes darting around, never settling on anything nearby—and not on me. When it was clear he wasn't going to say more, I spoke.

"You still haven't given me a reason why I can't go with you. Do you not want—"

Declan's hands shot forward and grabbed me by my shoulders. "I want you with me, now and always. Can you not see that? But you can't go where I'm going. I'm not even allowed to tell you where it is. Hells, I don't even know myself. "

This made no sense. How could he go on a mission to a location he didn't know to accomplish a task he was unsure he even understood? Missions required clarity and definition. They needed an objective even the simplest mind could grasp.

This—blundering forward with a blindfold—this was insanity.

"I know this sounds nuts," he said, reading my mind. "But I have to try. I need you to trust me."

"Spirits, Dec, I do trust you, more than anyone, but this mission is reckless. It's like diving off a boat into the middle of the ocean to find the bottom. You're just going to drown."

I stood and began pacing by the brook. I was so exasperated by this obtuse mission—and by his refusal to tell me what was going on—that I wanted to throw something or shout.

"Maybe," he said so quietly I had to stop pacing to hear. "Maybe you could come with me, just to this next, um, waypoint."

I dropped to my knees and locked eyes with him.

"You have to swear to never tell anyone about this place or the, um, thing you see there," he told me.

I scrunched my brow. "Thing? Can you be more specific?"

"Not really, but not because I don't want to be. I just . . . I don't even know what to expect. It's a . . . magical thing."

"Magic." I let my head fall into my hands. "Always fucking magic."

His hand found my shoulder and squeezed.

"What do they expect you to do with magic?" I hadn't meant to sound harsh, but there it was. "You're Mute, Dec, just like me. We can't see magic, sense it, feel it, or use it. Magic may as well not exist, because to us, it doesn't. Please tell me they're not sending you on some mission to—"

"I can't tell you about the mission."

He'd opened the door to escorting him further but slammed it shut on anything more.

"Fine. Just great." Now I was the one sighing. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be—"

"A lordling?"

His mouth twisted somewhere between a smirk and triumphant grin.

"I fucking hate you, Declan Rea," I said, dropping down, grabbing him roughly, and planting a kiss on his lips.

He laughed through the kiss.

When we pulled apart, his smile was a brilliant full moon on a cloudless night.

"Hate you, too, little lordling."

"I'm guessing we're about an hour away," Declan said, peering down at the Mage's map.

"You still haven't told me where we're going, or what's waiting for us when we get there."

Wind whistled through the trees, as naked branches bowed to winter's rule. The forest canopy was little more than a bramble above our heads, revealing a cloudy gray sky pregnant with far worse than a stiff breeze.

Still, the air was crisp and clean, and I breathed deeply, enjoying a moment of rest.

Declan stared at the parchment a moment longer, then carefully folded it and stuffed it back into his cloak. Slowly, his head lifted. In that emerald gaze, I saw a man straining beneath some unseen burden. Sadness wafting off him churned my gut, and I longed to cradle him in my arms until it all passed.

But it would not pass.

"I made a vow," he said quietly. "If I tell you . . . if you know . . . I can't stand the idea of putting you in danger. That's what's killing me right now, Ayden."

I tried to smile. "We're sitting on a mountain in the center of two nations likely to be at war once spring comes. There are scouts everywhere, and none of that accounts for the forest's usual welcome for outsiders. Dec, we're already in danger. What's a little more?"

I'd meant it all as a jest, a way to lighten the mood or break whatever tension had welled between us, but Declan's face was granite, his eyes stone.

"This is different," he said, and his voice chilled the marrow in my bones. "This is Mage business, something neither of us has any right—or sound reason—to be involved with; but the Arch Mage tasked Atikus with a mission he couldn't fulfill, and he passed it on to me. My oath is to magic itself, to the Phoenix herself."

I blinked a few times, struggling to grasp the superstitious nonsense now flowing out of Declan's mouth. I knew he didn't believe in the legend of the Phoenix. Sure, we all recognized the power of Gifts, but to say they came from some long-dead bird? It was all religious rubbish, and we both knew it.

But Declan did not waver.

His jaw was set.

His eyes remained fixed.

"You're serious," I said, unsure how to respond.

He nodded slowly. "Melucia can't win a war, not with the Kingdom. You know as well as I do, their military outnumbers us at least ten to one."

"We have never needed a military. We are the world's bankers and shopkeepers. Without us, nations starve. Why would they attack? "

He shook his head. "I don't know. A lot of this doesn't make sense; but they have an army camped on the other side of these mountains, and battalions with trebuchets ready to cross. Who needs trebuchets for war games? Or for defensive maneuvers against a neighbor whose police force is stronger than their army?"

I tried to come up with an answer, to argue that all of this was a ruse or mummer's farce, but I couldn't. Sil, through her bird, had seen the camps and machines. War was coming.

Declan leaned forward and took my hands in his. I withered beneath his gaze.

"Ayden, swear to me that you will never tell a soul anything from this point forward. Not a word about where we are now or where we are going. Not a word about what you may see when we get there."

His hands trembled in mine, and that alone stilled all protest.

"On my honor as a Ranger, and by the Phoenix, I swear."

A smile crept onto Declan's face. "I'll take the honor thing, but we both know you think the Phoenix tastes like chicken."

I spat out a laugh and squeezed his hands. "Chicken? More like snake or lizard. Slimy bastard, she is. "

"Wow. You made the holiest symbol on the whole continent taste bad and blasphemous in one statement. Nice work."

I gave him a mocking bow.

"Let's get to the good part now, please."

His lips pursed. "Fine. We're going to another cave."

I waited.

He stared.

The wind howled.

"That's it? After all that promising and shit, that's all I get?"

"Yep, lordling, that's it." He grinned, then nodded. "Can we eat our lunch in peace now?"

"I still hate you. You know that, right?"

"Hate you more," he said, ripping off a piece of dried meat and popping it into his mouth.I dug through my pack and settled on a dinner of dried beef and apples. As a Ranger, I was used to sparse rations but couldn't stop images of roasted meats dripping with fat and an ocean of peppery buttered vegetables from invading my mind.

"Never thought I would miss the Academy's dining hall," I mused, chewing the meat for the hundredth time without making it the least bit softer.

Declan finished his meat, dusted off his cloak, and leaned against a tree, closing his eyes. Surrounded by trees halfway up a mountain, he looked more peaceful than at any time since we had met. I watched the rise and fall of his chest as I ate.

Is he really mine? How could I ever be so lucky?

A sudden movement to Declan's right pricked my senses. Slowly, I reached to where my bow rested against the log and readied to nock, then peered into the rustling foliage. What emerged a heartbeat later made a smile crease my face.

Declan's eyes opened, but he remained frozen.

A fuzzy baby owl, no larger than my balled fist, tottered up to Declan's foot, hopped a couple of times, and froze. The feathers around the little bird's legs were a pale gold and puffed out to resemble a mummer's pantaloons, while its head was hooded in charcoal plumes with a splash of white that rose to form snowy brows.

Its head swiveled, leaving its body facing Declan. I couldn't help grinning at the black eyes with golden rings that never wavered in their piercing glare.

When I crouched and scooted forward, the owl turned back to Declan and began hopping up and down and peeping urgently.

"Hi there, little guy."

Declan sat up and faced the bird with his legs crossed. The peeping and hopping accelerated, so he reached down to where the last of his dried meat lay wrapped in a cloth and tore off a piece, slowly reaching it out.

The owl froze .

It swiveled its head to the right, then to the left, then back to the right.

It turned and looked at me, then spun to stare at Declan and the proffered meat.

In a blink, the owl darted forward, snatched the meat, and raced to perch on Declan's pack sitting a few paces away.

"Quick little guy, aren't ya?"

Declan glanced up at me, and my amused gaze mirrored his.

The owl stopped ripping long enough to peep a piece of its little mind in Declan's direction before resuming its meal.

Declan looked stunned.

"That felt like the bird was speaking to you—or yelling. It didn't sound happy about something. Although, it could've been thanking you for the meat. My owl is a little rusty."

Declan rolled his eyes, smiled, and looked back at the owl. "Uh, what was that all about? You don't like the meat?"

The owl focused on its dinner, ignoring Declan.

"So that's not it. Hmm. You're not a little guy , are you?"

The owl dropped the meat and hopped a few times.

Blink, blink.

"We've hardly been on this trip for a solid day and I'm losing my mind. Did the owl just answer me? "

My eyes were as wide as his. "I think so. Sweet Spirits."

Declan cocked his head as the owl had done a moment earlier. "All right. Sorry about that . . . uh . . . miss."

We watched the creature devour her last bite, then hop off the pack, edge closer, then scurry back a step. She did this several times, each new attempt closing the gap between them by a few inches. Finally, when I thought she might run away into the safety of the forest, the golden blur darted from the pack and hopped onto Declan's legs.

He froze.

The owl pecked and scratched, then settled into the crease between his outstretched legs and began cleaning her feathers. A moment later, preening complete, she nuzzled deeper into the crevice between his shins and closed her eyes, emitting a long whirring sound that reminded me of a cat's satisfied purr.

"Is it asleep?" I asked.

"She," he corrected. "And yeah, I think so. Her eyes are closed, and her breathing looks slower. Can you hear that little purr sound?"

I crept closer and sat a pace away.

"You know, we just sorted out that we, well, like each other and all. Do you think it's too soon to get a pet?"

Declan's face contorted and turned bright red.

"Don't make me laugh," he hissed. "I don't want to wake her. "

"I'm sorry to tell you, but we don't have time to let Her Highness nap. We have a mysterious cave to find, remember?"

Declan's smile faded. "Shit. For a moment, I let myself just enjoy sitting here. Not the smartest thing in the world with half the Kingdom's scouts roaming the mountains, is it?"

"Half? The King has every scout in the country scouring these forests. We need to move."

"Fine. You're right." Declan stared down at the owl and blew out a sigh. He reached his hand toward the owl, but just as he was about to touch a feather, her bright eyes flew open, and she leaped back, stumbling on his leg and falling to the ground.

She righted herself, shook off her feathers, and glared.

"Good morning, Miss Owl."

The bird hopped twice and blinked.

"Okay. Okay. I'm getting up." He braced himself to rise, but before he could stand, the owl hopped back onto his leg, scurried up his torso, and perched on his shoulder.

He looked to me, only moving his widened eyes.

I shrugged. "Looks like you have a passenger."

"We can't take her with us. This is insane."

"No more insane than two Mutes seeking a mystical cave so you can go find magical help for a war that has yet to be declared."

Declan rolled his eyes again, then turned his head slightly and spoke softly.

"Miss Owl, it's been a pleasure, but we need to get moving."

As he kneeled to lift his pack, the owl hopped off his shoulder and into the hood of his cloak. He craned his head and laughed as she pecked his earlobe.

"Ow! Stop that," he told her. "Where I'm going, you can't follow, little one."

She peeped a long series of chirps.

"Did you piss her off?" I asked.

Declan closed his eyes and smiled wryly.

"I suppose you can ride back there a while. It'll be nice to have someone to keep me company in these lonely woods. You're a much more interesting conversationalist than our other companion."

She peeped twice and nuzzled his neck before settling into the deepest part of his hood.

I chuckled as I handed him his quiver, bow, and pack. It took both of us to figure out how Declan could carry everything without disturbing our new guest, but we were soon on our way.

As we hiked, brisk wind, colder than before, whipped through the trees. The sun brushed back her blanket and shone brightly for a brief time, painting the forest in hues of the last of autumn .

We made good progress down one mountain and up the next, though the trek took longer than Declan had predicted. Atikus's map might have been artfully drawn, but its scale left something to be desired. The owl emerged a few times to perch on Declan's shoulder, but seemed to grow cold and fled back into the warmth of Declan's hood.

As the sun began her descent behind the mountains, the sounds of someone approaching halted our progress. We found a hiding place among some fallen logs, and I nocked my bow. The owl stirred, poking her fuzzy head out of the hood, but remained quiet.

Tense moments passed before three men in blue Kingdom tunics stomped through leaves and over limbs with confident indifference. They were spaced roughly fifty paces apart and scanned as they trekked. Each carried a loaded crossbow that moved to either side with their gaze.

As the search line passed our hiding place, one of the men stopped and held up a fist. His head swiveled as he inhaled deeply. The others paused and watched their partner's actions. A moment later, he shook his head and signaled for the team to continue.

We remained still and hidden no less than a half an hour after the scouts vanished.

Declan turned to me and whispered, "What was with the sniffing?"

"Some Gift, I'd wager. He might be able to smell magic. Most Rangers have a Gift, so that would track."

"Two Mutes on a mission," he whispered ruefully. "We can never tell Atikus about this. He will claim he knew all along."

I grunted and patted his shoulder.

The owl peeped softly from the hood.

"I've got a bad feeling about all this."

As darkness fell, we came upon a huge rock formation that reminded me of a giant hand giving a thumbs-up to the world. It looked natural enough, and the boulders were far too large and heavy for men to move, but I couldn't shake the feeling they were arranged in that formation somehow.

Declan stopped and rechecked the map.

"This is the last major landmark Atikus drew."

He scanned the area, and I followed his eyes to a trail leading from the base of the rocks up the mountain.

"That's my trail."

"Your trail?" I crossed my arms. "I thought—"

"If you don't go any further, I will have kept my promise. The cave is . . . it's part of all this. It's the beginning, really."

"You don't want—"

Declan stepped forward and stilled my words with his lips. His hands found the sides of my face, and my knees buckled as he poured himself into the moment, holding nothing back .

"I want you with me, Ayden Byrne, always." His words were echoes on a distant wind. "But I have to do this alone."

I brushed his hair back and pressed my forehead to his, wincing at the thought of our parting.

"I miss you already," I said without thinking.

His hands gripped me tighter. "Spirits, me, too."

I squeezed my eyes shut, holding tears back.

"I'll make my way farther south to avoid the scouts, then double back once I'm out of the mountains. It will take longer, but—"

"You have to stay alive," he said in words that speared my soul. "To report what we've seen, you have to stay alive."

I nodded, feeling his head move with mine. "Yeah, for that, too."

We kissed again, and I felt a part of me pull away as our lips separated. Not trusting my voice, I brushed his hair one last time, then turned south and walked away.