8. Declan

Chapter 8

Declan

“ H oly shit.” Ayden stumbled before bracing himself on the cavern wall. “Where . . . how . . . ?”

“He is almost as inelegant as you, Declan,” órla chirped from her perch on the table.

“Declan, what the fuck?” Ayden pressed his back against the stone as though one of us might attack him at any moment. “We were just in the woods and now . . . we’re in a cave . . . and that owl just talked to me. Lord and Lady, I am finally losing my mind. It’s gone. I’m gone.”

He slumped to the ground, his back against the stone, placing his head in his hands.

I didn’t mean to laugh.

It just slipped out.

“And now you’re laughing at me?” he mumbled from beneath his hands.

I bit my bottom lip.

órla burst into a giggle that sounded more like an old woman choking on tabac smoke than laughter.

“Why don’t you come have a seat?” I said, gently lifting him by the arm. “The wine will calm you as we talk.”

“Let me get this straight,” he said as he stood. “You’re sitting in a cave with a talking owl and drinking magical wine.”

“He’s every bit as bright as you told me,” órla said with enough sarcasm to slap a baby’s bottom.

“Oh, just wait. You haven’t seen the half of it.” I cocked a brow, the mischief in me refusing to remain silent.

Ayden groaned and fell into a chair.

“You haven’t told him about—”

I glared at órla. “No, we haven’t had a chance to talk yet . . . about anything .”

“Oh, boy,” she said, stretching her wings, then tucking them in again. “Pour us all a glass of that wine, will you? I might be an eternal spiritual being, but this conversation might do me in without a drink.”

Ayden’s eyes had grown into saucers the moment we appeared in the cave and still hadn’t returned to normal.

“Eternal spiritual being?” he repeated as he blinked at órla.

“We’ll get to that. Just drink this for now.”

I slid a glass to Ayden, then another to órla. He downed the whole thing before I could even fill my own glass.

I cocked a brow and gave him another refill.

Ayden sat up straight, then leaned forward, focused on the bottle. He squinted, then reached out and lifted the bottle, shaking it so the wine rocked like an angry ocean inside.

“There is no less in this bottle than when we started,” he said. “You have poured me three glasses, yourself one, and órla one. This bottle should be empty. Hells, it should have been empty before this round.”

He set the bottle down and looked at me. His mouth opened, then closed, then opened again. I worried if I didn’t ground him quickly, he might pass out.

“Why don’t we start on, um, more familiar ground. You start. Tell us what’s going on with the Kingdom forces.”

Ayden swallowed hard, then took another long sip.

“This whole business is bad, Dec.” Setting his glass on the table, he clasped his hands on the tabletop. “Right after you left, a group of us was sent into the mountains to patrol for scouts. We divided the range into a massive grid. We had reports of increasing numbers of Kingdom forces crossing the border, and our team was sent to verify this, watch them and report back.”

“How has that gone?”

“In less than a week, I lost a third of my men.”

He grabbed his wine and finished it, returning the glass to the table with a thud so loud órla jumped.

“My lieutenant went missing a few days ago.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “That left me in charge. Me , Dec, in charge. Is that not the silliest thing you have ever heard?”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s not.” I ran a hand through my hair, realizing for the first time since we returned from the island how badly I needed to bathe. “Ayden, you’re smart, and the Rangers like you. They follow where you lead. You might be fresh out of the Academy, but you’re well respected.”

His eyes fell to his hands, as he muttered, “Thanks.”

“Don’t let it go to your head. You’re still a prudish little lordling.” I grinned when his eyes rose. “What other news? Any movement from across the border?”

He shook his head. “The whole Kingdom army is camped on our border, but it looks like they plan to wait out winter before marching.”

“So we’re assuming they will attack?”

Ayden’s expression told me that was a stupid question.

“Right. Their scouts wouldn’t be killing ours if they planned to trade barley come spring.” I refilled our glasses, amused at the way he stared warily at the bottle. “What of the capital?”

“Who knows?” he said quietly. “I have been stuck out in my zone with little chance to hear from the east. I would assume they are preparing their defenses.”

“Whatever those might be.” I rolled my eyes. “This war will end before it begins if we count on strength of arms.”

“That was why you left me in the mountains, was it not?” Ayden sat back and crossed his arms. “You were sent on a secret mission in seek of magical aid.”

My heart chose that moment to leap into my throat. The entire trip back, I’d racked my brain for how to tell Ayden I had magic. He was still Mute. He always would be. From his perspective, I left the mainland only weeks ago. I was just as Mute as he. We shared a bond in our bitterness toward all things magic, even joked about it, complained about it, planned to live apart from the rest of humankind because of it.

In a strange way, our shared lack of a Gift brought us closer together than even our shared attraction. That might’ve been a stretch. I was very attracted to him. Still, my mind reeled at the idea he might reject me now that I was “one of them,” as we said recently.

It frightened me even more because this—whatever it was—between us was so new. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since we parted, and I was fairly certain he felt the same about me, but still . . .

Would these feelings we shared be enough to overcome the difference that now stood between us? Would my tunic and all its gold burn too brightly for him to accept? My stomach churned with acidic angst, and I suddenly felt ill.

What was I now?

Gifted?

I didn’t even know what term to use.

Was I a Mage? A Mage of old?

The term probably didn’t matter. I was the only one of my kind, a magical prodigy or . . . a magical fluke, more like it.

“If you keep thinking so poorly of yourself, I will peck your eyes out.”

órla’s sudden outburst startled me so badly I almost spilled my wine.

“Are you listening to my thoughts? Is that a new thing, or could you do it all along? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“We share everything, Bond-Mate. You know this.”

“I could do with a little less sharing, thank you very much.”

“What is happening here?” Ayden’s gaze shifted from me to órla and back. “Everything turned quiet and . . . strange.”

órla tottered up to Ayden and leaned in like she intended to whisper, which looked funny from an owl. Ayden glanced toward me with caution in his eyes, then leaned his ear toward the bird.

“Declan is strange. You should know that by now.”

“I understand that more each moment,” Ayden said seriously. He sat back and rubbed his eyes. “Clearly, there is more to tell. I am as ready as I can be.”

“We’ll see about that,” órla chirped.

If I hadn’t been so nervous about telling him the truth, I might’ve burst out laughing. As it was, I struggled to maintain eye contact. Sweat beaded along my neck.

“Start with what you’re wearing.” Ayden scowled at my tunic and waved a disapproving hand.

“This was . . . a gift.”

“At least you did not dip yourself in gold,” he muttered. “That is some relief.”

I ran a hand through my hair and leaned forward, desperate to get this out.

“I have magic, Ayden,” fell out of my mouth. “A great deal of magic. I mean, I have more magic than . . . more than anyone in Melucia, probably in the whole world.”

Ayden’s eyes hardened.

“I . . . Ayden . . . Shit, how do I even tell you all of this?”

“Just say it.”

I blew out a breath.

“I’m not just Gifted. I’m the Son of Magic, though some called me the Heir of Magic. They are two titles that mean pretty much the same thing.”

His brows furrowed.

“I’m still figuring it all out, but . . . You know how I was sent to find magical aid?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I guess, it’s strange and all, but . . . I’m kind of . . .”

“He is the magical aid,” órla snapped as she strode back across the table to stand before Ayden. “Declan is a direct descendant in a long magical line that is called upon when magic itself faces dire threats. He went seeking aid, and he found himself, his true self.”

Ayden blinked.

“You’re Gifted?”

I started to answer, but órla cut me off.

“No, Ayden, this is far greater than any Gift. Declan doesn’t possess magic; he is magic.”

Ayden spat a laugh.

“Declan? You’re talking about Declan Rea?” He pointed at me. “The one who hated golden collars so much he ran away and joined the Rangers? You’re saying what? He’s got two or three abilities? And a fancy shirt?”

He shoved his chair back from the table and stepped away, turning to face the rough wall of the cave.

“Ayden, please,” I pleaded.

Spirits, he was going to hate me after this. I felt like a piece of me was dying.

But there was only one direction now—forward.

The air in the cave shimmered, and my tunic flared to life. Golden brilliance blazed from the Phoenix on my chest so brightly I had to shield my eyes.

órla flapped from the table to rest on the floor before Ayden. Her commanding voice echoed through the cavern like the tones of a palace gong.

“Ayden Byrne, you will listen.”

I couldn’t see his face, but Ayden’s posture stiffened as he stared down at órla. Her body, normally small enough to stand in my palm, grew until her head reached his shoulders. The golden plumes of her chest glowed with the same brilliance as my tunic. Even I was stunned to silence at her display.

“I, Daughter of Magic, stand before you as witness to his purpose. Declan Rea is my Bond-Mate and the Heir of Magic. Survival of your people rests on his shoulders. Do not be so foolish as to turn aside because of your own wounded pride.”

Ayden staggered back.

But órla wasn’t finished. She continued growing until she towered over him. “Hear me, Ayden Byrne. Declan carries a burden greater than any alive. He will need you before his days are done. If you bear any love for this land, do not fail him.”

Watching órla shrink back to her normal size was almost as terrifying as watching her swell to human height.

“ What in the Spirits? Why didn’t you tell me you could blow up like that?”

“A lady has to have her secrets.” órla giggled in my mind, shifting from an awe-inspiring Spirit into a little girl in the blink of an eye. “Besides, I didn’t really grow. That was Illusion.”

She took to wing and settled again on the table.

Ayden turned toward me once again. His face was ashen, and his eyes were wide. I was fairly certain a stiff breeze would’ve bowled him over had we stood on the mountainside.

“This is . . . it is just . . . so much.” He staggered back to the table and sat. “I want to understand, truly I do, and . . . I am not running, but . . .”

“Illusion! Of course. You just gave me a great idea.”

“Oh, no. It worries me when you think.”

I ignored her jab and refilled our glasses. “Have some more wine. I have an idea that might make this easier to explain. I’ll show you.”

His brow rose as he drank.

“ Can I show him the Keeper’s trial without breaking my promise?”

órla clicked her beak. “As long as you do not betray the Keeper or the Well, I see no harm in it.”

“All right,” I said to Ayden. “When I was . . . away . . . I was shown possible futures. Think of these as paths the future might take if certain things happen or if other things don’t happen.”

“Declan, you are making my head hurt. What in the ocean’s heart are you talking about?”

I stood up and paced before the table, excited by my idea but unsure how to explain it.

“Just show him,” órla said.

Right. Explain after.

I locked eyes with Ayden and grasped my Light. As my Illusion filled his mind, his eyes turned milky white and his body went rigid.

I run through the woods, into a clearing where Atikus, Keelan, and Sil stand.

Arrows fly.

Atikus is hit. He falls.

A moment later, Sil calls from the distance.

Keelan lies dying.

Everything shifts.

Saltstone burns.

Soldiers are everywhere.

The stench of death fills the air.

Bodies, bloodied and broken. So many bodies.

My vision shifts again.

Ayden’s hair floats in a pool of blood beneath his head.

I lie a few paces away, my eyes open yet unseeing.

The world goes black.

Ayden blinked rapidly as the clouds cleared from his eyes.

“What was that?” he asked, his voice as hoarse and broken as mine had been when I first witnessed the visions.

“That is what we must prevent,” órla said. “Declan is our greatest hope. He will need both of us, our support, our love, our strength. He will need more than we have to give, but give it we must, or everything we love will die.”