6. Keelan

Chapter 6

Keelan

T he marketplace was still bustling with activity when I arrived.

Brightly colored stalls lit by flames dancing above torches and lanterns lined the cobblestone square. The air was thick with the smell of spices, fresh bread, and the ever-present scent of the river.

Saltstone’s market was the heart of the city, a place where Merchants, locals, and travelers converged to exchange goods, gossip, and information. If there was something to be bought, sold, found—or hidden—it would be here.

I wove through the crowd.

Most of the Merchants were too busy haggling with customers to pay much attention to me, but I knew a few of them from my years living in the city. I stopped at a stall selling dried herbs and spices, the pungent scent of lavender and rosemary teasing my nose.

“Guardsman Rea,” the Merchant greeted me with a nod, his dark eyes glinting with curiosity. “What brings you to the market today?”

“Unfortunately, business,” I said, leaning against the stall. “I’m looking into a theft.”

“Theft?” The man’s brows rose. “From here? In the Merchants’ Quarter?”

I shook my head. “Down by the river. From an accountant’s shop, of all places.”

The man’s eyes widened further, but he didn’t sound surprised when he spoke. “I’ve heard about that. Word travels fast in the market.”

“What have you heard?”

He hesitated a moment, glancing around before lowering his voice. “Albrecht’s a cautious man, keeps to himself, doesn’t make waves . . . but a few weeks ago, there was talk he’d made some kind of deal—something big.”

“What kind of deal?”

The Merchant shook his head. “Don’t know, but there are whispers—people saying he’d gotten his hands on something valuable. Maybe something dangerous.”

I tried to mute my interest. This was more than I’d found in two days of searching. “Dangerous how?”

“Couldn’t say. But if the wrong people found out about it . . .” His gaze flickered toward the crowd. “Let’s just say there are those in this city who wouldn’t take kindly to it.”

My Gift didn’t stir.

He believed what he was saying, and there wasn’t anything masked within his words.

I frowned, trying to piece it together.

Albrecht’s ledger wasn’t just a record of transactions—it held something more, something that had put him in danger. But what could be so valuable, so dangerous, that it would make a man like Albrecht risk everything?

“Thanks for the information,” I said, slipping the Merchant a few coins. “If you hear anything else, let me know.”

He nodded, pocketing the money. “Be careful, Guardsman. Some things are best left buried.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of dead ends and half answers. Every Merchant I spoke with gave me the same vague response—Albrecht had been involved in something risky, but no one knew what.

It was frustrating, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was getting closer to the truth.

When the crowd thinned, and people scattered to return home, I decided to pay Declan another visit. Despite the growing friction between us, Declan had always been the one person who could clear my head when it felt like I was drowning. He had a knack for cutting through the clutter and calling things like they were.

I needed that now.

I needed my brother.

Besides, the way we’d left things earlier in the day still tasted bitter. I couldn’t sleep with that taste on my tongue.

I made my way back to the Mages’ Guild. To those who lived outside the guild walls, the place was eerie, often silent, except for the occasional hum of magic in the air. The students and Mages who lived there were often too absorbed in their own studies to notice anything—or anyone—else, and the cold, white marble buildings of the compound reflected that sense of isolation.

To me, the quiet of the courtyard and engravings of the Phoenix on every door and wall felt like home.

Declan was in the courtyard, sitting beneath the same tree where we’d talked last time. He sat hunched over a book, his brow furrowed in concentration. There was a heaviness in his posture that made my chest tighten.

“Hey,” I called as I approached, trying to keep my tone light.

Declan startled.

His voice was flatter than the sidewalk’s cobbles. “You’re back?”

“Apparently.” I flopped down beside him, leaning against the tree so our shoulders smushed together. When silence stretched a little too long, I asked, “You okay? You look . . . distracted.”

He shrugged, closing the book and setting it aside. “I’m okay. Was just thinking.”

I chuckled. “Don’t hurt anything.”

He shoved his shoulder against mine in a futile attempt to knock me over. The smile that bloomed on his lips lifted my spirits.

Everything in me smiled. For a heartbeat, my brother was back.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Nothing important.” His tone was too casual, dismissive, and I knew he was holding something back. I didn’t need my Gift to sense that. Declan was about as subtle as the vendors’ calls I’d just left in the Quarter.

But I didn’t push him.

Prying too much would only shut him down.

I let the silence hang a moment, then asked, “Can I run something by you?”

The surprise on his face lit up the courtyard.

“Uh, sure, I guess.”

“It’s about my case.”

Declan’s head whipped around. “The stolen ledger thing? The guy got killed, didn’t he?”

He already knew the answer to that. He was standing right beside me when I learned about the murder. I bit back my irritation at his feigned ignorance.

“Yeah.” I nodded. “Turns out Albrecht was involved in some pretty shady stuff. I’m trying to figure out what, but no one’s talking.”

Declan’s gaze drifted toward the sky as he muttered, “You’ll figure it out. You always do.”

I smiled, but there was something that felt off. His words sounded hollow, like he was saying what he thought he should rather than what he actually believed.

Or was he so disconnected that his words held no meaning at all?

Before I could ask him anything, he grabbed his book, stood up, and brushed off his trousers. “I should get back inside. I have a lot of homework, and you know how the old men get when we fall behind.”

“Right,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. “I’ll let you get back to it. But, Dec . . .”

He looked up, his expression flat.

“If you ever want to talk, about anything, you know where to find me.”

Declan nodded, but it looked more like a teenage dismissal than agreement.

I watched him walk away, a pang of guilt twisting in my gut as I realized something. I’d been so focused on my own path, my own ambitions, that I hadn’t realized how much Declan was struggling.

I just hoped he would let me back in.