17. Ayden

Chapter 17

Ayden

D eclan gripped my shoulder as we vanished from the cavern and appeared a moment later in the clearing I’d camped in the night before. My bedroll still lay spread at the edge near low foliage. My pack was still leaned against a tree next to my bow. Nothing had been disturbed.

“I can’t believe I left my bow,” I muttered.

Declan’s lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “I can be distracting when I want something.”

“You are insufferable. Why do I love you so?” I shook my head and groaned.

“Because I possess the lips of the gods.” He winked and teased his tongue across my lips.

“No one has believed in gods in centuries.”

“That means my lips are legendary.”

A gust of wind blew through the barren forest, rustling dried leaves and what shrubs remained.

“I need to go. My men are out there, hopefully still alive, and there’s only a couple of hours of light left in this day.”

He kissed me again. “I love you, Ayden Byrne. Stay safe.”

“You stay safe, Ranger. I know you have all this magic now, but you are not immortal.”

He nodded and rested his forehead against mine. “Meet you in Saltstone.”

Without another word, he stepped back and disappeared, his form twinkling out of existence as magic’s trace dissipated into the chilly mountain air.

I stared for a long moment at where Declan had just stood. Only hours before, I had believed months of hard weather held the Kingdom’s forces at bay. I also believed the man I loved was one of the few other Mutes in a sea of magically Gifted humanity.

The Kingdom forces pouring over the mountain were terrifying and threatened to destroy Melucia’s very way of life. If this war went as badly as everyone believed it would, Kingdom banners could be snapping in the wind above Saltstone before the city even had time to prepare for war.

My mind should have been obsessing over saving my men and crafting some ingenious plan to slow the enemy’s advance. Schemes of gathering Rangers and shaping them into a resistance until we could receive proper orders from headquarters should have consumed my thoughts.

And yet, all I could see when I closed my eyes were emeralds dancing with amusement beneath a brow covered in a floppy mess of wilted curls. Declan’s devilish grin quickened my pulse and begged me to call out for his return.

It was in that moment, in my indulgent reflection, that horror’s roots dug deeply into my heart.

If Grove’s Pass fell, would Declan?

My hand rose to my lips.

Was that our last kiss?

Had we just said goodbye for the final time?

A branch snapped to my right beyond the clearing.

I snatched up my bow and pressed my back to a tree, shielding myself from the direction of the noise.

Dried leaves crunched.

Another snap.

I nocked an arrow.

“Ranger Byrne?” a high-pitched whisper drifted on the breeze.

“Eilidh?” I peered around the tree to find one of Declan’s former First Year team crouched at the edge of the clearing. Her hair, normally as fiery as mine and wild as Declan’s, was thick with sweat and hung limply about her shoulders. Angry smears of blood and dirt marred the pasty skin of her face. The color of her tunic was unrecognizable, and her cloak was so torn it looked like it had survived a battle.

She stumbled forward.

Green cloth from her cloak, soaked through with blackness, bound her leg above her knee.

I shot forward and braced her.

“What happened? Let me look at that leg,” I said, lowering her to my pallet.

She winced as she looked up, though the pain in her face appeared far deeper than any wound could cause.

“We’ve got to get back to HQ.” Near panic filled her eyes. “There are soldiers everywhere, and they’re shooting on sight.”

I peeled back her makeshift bandage, revealing a deep gouge that still oozed.

“Hold still. This is going to hurt.”

My wine skin lay just within reach. I gripped the stopper in my teeth and took a quick swig, grateful Declan had insisted I fill it with the magical wine before all manner of nakedness had taken over our cavern time.

I held the wine over Eilidh’s wound and began to tip the skin before realizing the silliness and waste in my actions. Righting the skin, I held it before her lips.

“Drink this.”

Her brow furrowed, and she began to protest.

“Just trust me, all right? It’s . . . Enchanted.” I couldn’t think of a better explanation in the moment that covered for my knowledge of a secret cave and its even more secret wine. “I was given this by a Mage some time ago. It has healing properties.”

“Wine? With healing properties?” Had she not been in pain, Eilidh’s lips would’ve quirked. “What the hell. Pour it down my throat. If nothing else, it may deaden the pain.”

By her second swallow, her skin had begun to knit itself back together. She shoved my hand and the skin away and stared in wonder. Once the knitting appeared complete, I poured a small amount of wine onto a cloth and wiped away dried blood to reveal a line of freshly Healed pink skin.

“Oh, Spirits, bugger me right now. What—”

“I do not have time to bugger you,” I said, my mouth running ahead of good sense. Her eyes widened. “Sorry, bad joke. Tell me what you saw out there. Is there danger you were followed? How far out were the men?”

She drew in a breath as if testing the strength of her lungs. “I don’t feel pain anywhere anymore. Crown and quill, I even feel rested now.”

“Eilidh, enough!” I snapped, then lowered my voice. “Focus. What happened?”

She nodded, and her eyes became distant. Her voice rang hollow as she recounted the past few hours. “Padraig had left his quadrant. He crossed mine on his way to you. He wasn’t paying attention and missed the soldiers following him. I’d guess he was thirty yards from my camp when two arrows took him in the back. I ducked and watched him fall beneath the brush. A team of six soldiers surrounded him, one nudging his body with a boot while the other stabbed at him with his bow. A moment later, they passed not ten paces from where I lay hidden.”

“Hells. That’s nine so far.”

“Nine?” she sat up on her elbows. “They’ve shot nine?”

I nodded. “Likely more. Dec was right. This isn’t more scouting; it’s the beginning of their attack.”

“Dec? You saw Declan? I mean . . . Ranger Rea out here?”

“No. I mean, yes. I saw him a while back. He thought this would happen more quickly than . . . it does not matter.” I looked away and cursed my own carelessness. “Did you see any others on your way here?”

“No. I passed through three other quads, but none of the Rangers checked my passage. They should’ve at least challenged me.”

Were any left alive?

I closed my eyes.

“The quads are done,” I said, resignation weighing my voice like an anchor. “We need to get back to Grove’s Pass as quickly as possible.”

“We can’t abandon—”

“Eilidh, they are gone, but Grove’s Pass still stands . . . for now. Those soldiers could be hours or minutes behind you. We have no more time.”

She remained silent so long I wondered if she might argue or simply head into the mountains to find the others. When she looked up, her eyes held far more grief than when she’d first entered the clearing with blood dripping from her leg.

“Fine. Let’s get on with it then.”