4. Declan

Chapter 4

Declan

K eelan’s confidence was impossible to ignore.

Hells, Keelan was impossible to ignore.

As I watched him walk away with cloak snapping behind and his head held high, I couldn’t help but feel a familiar sting. I shouldn’t have been jealous—I was proud of my brother, I really was. He’d worked hard to get into the Guard, to earn the respect of people like Sergeant Sted and so many others; but I couldn’t stop the gnawing bitterness that had been bubbling inside me, feeding on me more every success he achieved.

A dying ray of sunlight glinted off the gold of his collar.

Damn golden collars.

Keelan’s Gift wasn’t even the most powerful or flashy ability, but it was rare—and it was a Gift. He had a Gift.

I had nothing.

No magic, no Gift, just me.

I knew I was smart, maybe even clever in my own way, but none of that mattered in a world where golden collars were everything.

Here, if you didn’t have magic, you were nothing.

I was nothing.

I leaned back against the tree, letting my head rest against rough bark while staring up at the sky through its branches. A pair of students strode by. I was sure they’d seen me, but they didn’t slow, didn’t even turn or wave. I was invisible.

When Keelan and I were little, it hadn’t taken long for me to figure out how to make the Mages and other students laugh. Few children under the age of six wore the gold. Most didn’t manifest until they were ten or so. Still, Keelan and I were orphans. We’d been taken in by the Mages, not accepted into the Academy because we were brilliant minds. The charity of the Mages alone made us instant outcasts.

I huffed at my self-flagellation.

We weren’t outcasts. We were well accepted. The other students had no idea how we came to live at the guild. They knew we’d lost our parents because we told them so. Everyone thought it strange that neither Keelan nor I remembered much about them. Keelan couldn’t even recall our mother’s eye color.

Was that so strange? He was ten when we lost them. Was it so odd for a boy that young to forget or block out or whatever the Mages might call it?

When I was old enough to join the classes, my jokes blunted my self-loathing. I could tell a joke or turn a phrase, and, for a brief moment, others accepted me. When I turned ten and no Gift appeared, then eleven, then twelve, my jokes became my armor, my last line of defense. Students, each dealing with their own adolescence, barely knew how to accept themselves, much less a boy who was different.

Now, they rarely noticed me.

And Keelan had left me here.

Alone.

Keelan was always so sure of himself, like he knew who he was and where he was going. He’d wanted to join the Guard the day Sergeant Sted first put a practice sword in his hand.

I smiled at the memory of twelve-year-old Keelan, his eyes bugging out of his head, as the massive sergeant spurred him to spar. Keelan was always strong for his age, far larger in height and girth than any other boy. Put a sword in his hand, and he was downright intimidating.

He fell in love with everything the Guard offered and never looked back.

I didn’t have a clue.

I didn’t even know where to start figuring it out.

Where does a boy without magic go to fit in? How is that even possible?

I shook my head, stood, and dusted off my trousers. Dwelling on it wasn’t going to help. Besides, I had my own studies to get back to, even if they were pointless. The instructors still made me attend magic theory classes—something about understanding the mechanics of magic even if I couldn’t wield it. But I was little more than a glorified observer in most of the lectures.

As I headed back toward the main building, I noticed a couple of the older students walking ahead of me. Rylan, the taller of the pair, was in his final year at the Academy. He would graduate at eighteen, a fully trained Mage with a bright golden collar to show for his effort. The other boy looked to be of the same age, though I didn’t immediately recognize him.

Rylan glanced back, then leaned in close to whisper something to his companion. They both laughed. Their heads bent together as they walked. Their shoulders brushed.

I frowned, quickening my pace to catch up. I didn’t know the boys well, but I knew Rylan wasn’t the kind of person to be cruel. He wasn’t like some of the others who took pleasure in mocking those they thought were beneath them. He spoke to me, a smile parting his lips in pleasant greeting.

Still, there was something about the way he looked back that unsettled me.

As I drew closer, the low voice of the boy walking beside him tickled my ears.

“Shh,” Rylan hissed, glancing back again. “Not here.”

Curiosity gnawed at my chest, so I followed them.

They passed through the vaulted entrance of the students’ building and turned down a narrow hallway that led toward the dormitories, their voices fading as they disappeared around the corner. I hesitated for a moment. I knew I shouldn’t follow them—whatever they were up to wasn’t my business—but I couldn’t help myself. Unanswered questions made me crazy.

Keelan and I were alike in that way, at least.

I kept my footsteps light as I trailed them down the corridor. I knew these hallways well enough to avoid being seen and kept my distance as they reached the dormitory door and slipped inside.

I stood just outside and listened.

At first, there was nothing but silence. Then I heard the unmistakable sound of muffled voices, low and urgent, so I pressed my ear against the door.

“You can’t keep doing this, Rylan. If someone catches us—”

“No one’s going to catch us,” Rylan snapped. “Stop worrying.”

There was a brief pause, followed by a rustle of something.

Was that clothing?

My stomach twisted as I realized what was happening. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be listening to this.

But I couldn’t pull myself away.

Their voices grew quieter. Their tones were hushed, growing soft yet urgent.

Suddenly, it wasn’t just the conversation that made me feel uncomfortable. It was the realization that they were together— really together.

Two boys.

The thought hit me like a punch to the gut, and I took an involuntary step back from the door, my heart hammering in my chest.

I’d seen plenty of students sneaking off with each other before, but it had always been boys with girls. I’d never thought much about it. That was just how things were.

But this—this was different.

While Melucian society celebrated love in all its forms, the children of the guild could be cruel for no reason other than a difference in hair color. Falling for a person of the same sex would open both boys up to teenage ridicule beyond anything even I’d experienced.

My mind raced, a whirlwind of emotions I didn’t understand.

I knew I should leave, forget what I’d heard, pretend I didn’t know anything. Rylan and that other boy had done nothing to me. They were just trying to make each other happy. The last thing they needed was me snooping while they did . . . whatever it was they were doing.

But something within me—a voice deeper and quieter—was drawn in. Part of me was intrigued. I could hear them, but I wanted to . . . I wanted to see them.

Strangest of all, it felt like I’d stumbled upon something that was both foreign and familiar at the same time.

How was that possible? I’d never seen two men—

I don’t know how long I stood there, frozen in place.

Eventually, the voices inside faded, replaced by soft murmurs and the occasional rustle of movement. I forced myself to turn away, my feet carrying me down the hall and back into the courtyard.

By the time I reached the tree where I’d sat earlier, my mind had pretzeled itself so tightly I might never untangle the mess.

I threw myself down and stared at the ground near my feet.

What I’d just witnessed—what I’d heard—wasn’t wrong. At least, that’s what everyone said. But if it wasn’t wrong, why did so many adults talk about men who loved men as though something about them wasn’t right? Why were they even a topic of conversation?

The more I thought about it, the more that small, quiet part of me stirred.

The part that wondered what it would be like, what it would feel like, to be with someone like that.

To laugh at a joke only we understood.

To have someone whisper near my ear.

To feel our shoulders bump and brush.

To feel skin tease against my own.

Not with a girl, but with . . . another boy.

I shook my head, trying to push the thoughts away. This wasn’t me. It couldn’t be.

I was Declan Rea, brother of the great Guardsman Keelan Rea. I was strong and smart and funny. I made girls giggle and heads turn. I couldn’t be that .

Besides, I was already different. The last thing I needed was another reason for the Academy boys to sneer and jeer. If I was to survive my final years with the Mages with even a shred of my dignity—and sanity—intact, that couldn’t happen.

I shook my head and snatched up one of my school books, determined to put the silliness of the notion—and the images of the two boys, naked and sweating, kissing and touching—out of my mind.