13. Keelan

Chapter 13

Keelan

D espite the stress of being a Guardsman and the gruesome details of some of our cases, I rarely struggled to fall asleep. Sergeant Sted’s training likely had more to do with that than anything. The burly man was insatiable in his desire to ground his pupils into the dirt—or strengthen them. Some days, I wasn’t sure which.

The afternoon had yielded fewer answers than my visit to the guild. I’d run everything by Lieutenant Grieve only to receive a not-so-enlightening, “Keep at it.”

My mind was spent.

I lay in bed, staring at the rough beams of my ceiling, wondering what Declan was up to. Was he studying? Had he found friends to hang out with? Was he moping under his tree again?

My feelings where Declan was concerned were complicated.

No, that’s not right. They were simple.

I loved my brother more than anyone.

The pair of us had survived so much together. Despite my role as the older sibling, Declan’s bright smile and high-pitched giggle helped me make it through those first few years after we’d lost our parents. He was the ray of sunlight shining through the darkest sky.

I doubted he knew that.

Even if I told him it was true, which I had many times, I doubted he would believe.

He was determined to paint himself as useless, unwanted, and unloved.

That infuriated me.

He was none of those things. The boy was brilliant, even if he didn’t apply himself. He was funny and sharp and caring, everything I needed in a brother, everything I loved about him.

He could become anything, do anything, if only he believed in himself.

Okay, that wasn’t true either.

Without a Gift, there were limits. He was only sixteen. There was still hope his magic might manifest. Sometimes, it came late.

No one believed it would happen, but hope was a funny thing. With only a sliver, we clung with all our might.

I still clung to it. I wasn’t sure Declan did.

He’d given up.

I tossed onto my side and stared at the wall.

The sheets itched.

I’d missed laundry day. Again.

Great.

As my eyes drifted shut, images of my three-year-old brother appeared in my mind’s eye.

Declan and I crouched in the overgrown, tousled mess of our backyard. The goat that kept the lawn eaten short had wandered off. It was probably a good thing, as the poor thing had grown skinny over the weeks with no one to pour the heavy bag of feed into her pan.

The overgrowth didn’t seem to bother Declan.

It didn’t bother me either.

Neither did being outside by ourselves. We had grown used to spending time on our own.

The lazy summer afternoon heat threatened to swallow up any miseries we might have had, ladybugs drifting through the air around us serving as a good distraction.

One landed on a carved wooden sheep our father had crafted when I was Declan’s age. I was only eight, but I knew I had to be careful when I scooped the little bug up on my still-pudgy fingers. The bug’s colors were bright in the summer sun.

“Dec, look at this!”

Declan was only a toddler still. His eyes went wide with wonder. “Prinnybug!”

“Ladybug,” I corrected.

Declan’s lower lip jutted out. “Prinnybug.”

“You gotta learn to talk better, Dec. Ladybug. See? She’s got spots on her. It’s like Mom’s dress, and she’s a lady.”

“Prinny,” he declared, folding his tiny arms across his chest and widening his stance.

My brows furrowed. Why was he digging in on something so . . .

“You mean pretty ?”

Declan nodded and beamed, showing off a mouthful of kernel-sized teeth. “Prinnybug!”

“Okay,” I laughed. “She’s pretty, but she’s also a lady.”

I spent the next few minutes trying to get Declan to say the right thing. Unfortunately for the both of us, I didn’t have my mother’s patience when it came to teaching. I rose to my feet. “Time to send her home. That way she doesn’t get squished.”

Walking slowly so I didn’t disturb the tiny thing, I made my way to the nearby brush that butted up against a thick line of forest. Heavy branches of oak trees towered overhead, dropping a litany of acorns and dried leaves.

I threw my hand up, and the ladybug took off.

Declan waved into the sky. “Buh-bye, Prinnybug!”

The bug didn’t answer, of course.

They only did that in fairy tales, and this wasn’t a fairy tale.

“It’s time to go in, buddy,” I said, surprised I didn’t receive a pout or tantrum for my suggestion.

“’Kay.” Declan’s voice was as small as the ladybug. He held out his arms and wriggled his fingers, so I picked him up and turned, carrying him back toward the house.

“You’re getting heavy.”

Declan rested his head on my shoulder while his fingers dug and released across my back.

The house felt so big.

It didn’t used to be that way. When our parents went away, it felt as though the house grew. The rooms were larger and had more shadows. Even the dinner table swelled, with more empty chairs than filled ones.

We didn’t eat there anymore.

I carried Declan into our room and put him down, then went into the kitchen to cobble together a dinner made of the few things I’d been able to keep growing.

We ate on the floor.

I tried to ignore the way that the house grew darker. When the sun set, I got up and lit candles so I could help Declan get changed and tucked into bed.

I crawled into my own bed.

I was tired but couldn’t get comfortable.

I decided to leave the candle lit, just for one night.

Just until I felt better.

I rolled over, back toward the light. The dancing flame soothed my mind, and I finally fell asleep.

Sometime later, a strange, acrid odor woke me.

I rolled over, my nose wrinkling as I tried to identify the smell.

My eyes snapped wide, and I lurched up in bed.

I knew that smell.

Smoke!

I woke with sweat soaking my sheets.

When had I thought of the fire last? It had been years, a decade perhaps.

Remembering when we lost the last of our childhood, the last remnant of parents I could no longer recall, stirred unhealed pain within my chest. I’d thought that pain long gone. I’d hoped it was locked away, never to be free.

How foolish I was to hope for such a thing.

I rolled over and kicked the blanket off my overheated body.

Why couldn’t I remember our parents? I’d been old enough when we’d lost them to know their faces. I only knew their eye color because Atikus had told me what it was.

What child loses all memory of his parents?

I shrugged off the thought and closed my eyes, desperate to get at least a little rest before another day began. Sleep was slow to come, but still it came.

As did more dreams.

The carriage ride to the Mages’ Guild was long. The pair of Guardsmen who’d taken us from our shell of a home were kind enough. Still, watching the only home I’d ever known vanish behind us through the carriage’s tiny window, it felt like the world was shifting before my eyes.

When the carriage came to a halt and the door opened, a tall man in a blue cloak smiled and said, “Come with me, little ones.”

Gripping the man’s arm for support, I stepped out into a courtyard surrounded by stone buildings whose gleaming white marble swirled and swam with blues and blacks. Etchings of the Phoenix of Magic glittered with golden lines and jeweled eyes from every door.

We were in the Mages’ Guild.

The place was more elaborate than anything I had ever seen and, somehow, also more empty. Everything was big. No, it was huge. The sound of our steps turned into thunder against the cold stones of the walkways.

We were led into a room with walls covered in ancient books. An elderly snow-topped Mage stood before a desk with his hands clasped behind his back. The man’s deep creases across his face reminded me of maps I’d once seen. His deep-blue robes stretched all the way to the floor and were lined with two rows of glittering gold trim.

“Kee?” Declan asked, nudging so close I had to wrap my arm around him.

“Time to be brave, all right?” I told him.

Declan’s lower lip jutted out and quivered, but he went silent.

“What are we doing here? And who are you?” I asked, glancing around the room.

At one end, there were five oversized chairs covered in rich patterns of maroon-and-gold cloth resting on ornate legs carved with interwoven vines and leaves. On the other end, at odds with the grandeur all around, sat a rickety wooden chair covered in worn, faded yellow cushions. The chair was partially hidden behind a simple table the Mage used as a desk.

“Boys,” said the snow-topped man. “My name is Atikus Dani. I want you to feel welcome here, but before we take a tour, we need to chat. Is that all right?”

I was stunned the man was asking my permission to talk. Didn’t adults have the right to say whatever they wanted?

“Okay.” I narrowed my eyes. “Do you know where our parents are?”

The smile Atikus aimed at me held more sadness than I knew possible in such a gesture. My heart clenched as I waited for him to speak.

Atikus cleared his throat and took a knee, almost putting us at eye level. His voice trembled when he spoke. “Boys, they are gone. I am so sorry, but there was nothing we could do.”

“What do you mean? How? Where did they go?” Panic seized my throat.

“Your father was a good man, your mother even better. There was nothing that could be done. They . . . have been lost to us,” Atikus said. “You were lost to us, as well. We were so caught up in trying to find your parents, we forgot to look into where you went. We thought with the neighbors, surely . . . but . . . that was not the case.”

Tears welled in my eyes.

I balled my hands into fists, wrestling the storm of emotions as understanding gripped my mind. My parents were dead, but that wasn’t why I cried. I couldn’t remember the last time I had seen them and, as I closed his eyes, couldn’t even summon the image of my mother in my mind.

No, I didn’t cry for the loss of unknown parents.

Deep in my heart, I knew what the Mage’s pronouncement meant.

Declan and I were alone.

That, more than anything else, scared me.

At my side, Declan flopped down onto the floor. He pulled at his lip with two pudgy fingers and looked up at the Mage. “Mumma?”

I grabbed my little brother around the shoulders and held him as I shook through tears. Declan was too young to understand what was going on but was swept away in my emotions and began sobbing in unison with me.

The Mage watched through misty eyes.

“What happened to them?”

Atikus let out a breath and shook his head. “The details are a mystery to us.”

As he spoke, an awful tingle ran down my neck. The space between my shoulder blades and just below my neck stung and grew warm. I jerked away from Declan, unable to stand the sensation silently any longer.

“Kee?” Declan asked, his face contorted. He wiped at his face with pudgy hands, then made a grabbing motion in my direction.

I backed up so fast I tripped over my own feet and hit the ground. I reached up and grabbed at my shoulder, fingers digging at the sensation.

The tingling grew stronger.

It wasn’t painful, but it refused to be ignored. I looked up at Atikus, my eyes wider than they’d ever been. As I opened my mouth to ask one of the million questions racing through my mind, the Mage’s face shifted from sadness to curiosity to unbridled excitement.

“Keelan, what are you feeling right now?” he asked, his tone now urgent.

“Mage Atikus, I don’t know. It’s my back. It is warm and itchy. I promise I didn’t do anything. It just started.”

“Has this happened before?”

“Please, make it stop.” I grabbed on to little Declan again, holding him tight. I hoped that my brother would comfort me, but he squirmed to pull away.

Atikus’s brow furrowed. “It discomforts you?”

“Yes,” I wailed. My shoulders hitched. “I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”

But even as I cried out my frustration, the sensation started to fade and the skin on my back began to cool and settle.

Atikus reached out and placed his weathered hand on my shoulder. He stared into my eyes for the longest moment. In a measured, calm voice, he said, “Keelan, listen to me. Do not be scared. You are not in trouble.”

My lower lip wobbled. I had tried so hard to step up, to gird myself. I was the man of the house, after all. But in that moment, I felt so tiny. “Do you promise I’m not in trouble?”

Atikus assured me, “I promise, my boy. No one is mad at you, least of all me. But I need you to tell me everything about what you are feeling—from the moment it started to right this second. Details are important, so leave nothing out.”

I stared down at Atikus’s shoes. “It started when you told us our parents are gone.”

My voice caught, and I squeezed my eyes shut to stop tears from returning.

Atikus softened his tone. “It’s all right, Keelan. Take a breath. Focus only on the questions I am asking you. What did you feel that scared you so badly?”

“It was . . . like somebody put a warm cloth on my back, but inside my skin. It kept getting warmer until I paid attention to it. Then the bees came.”

“Bees?” The Mage’s face scrunched. Declan giggled and reached to catch a fistful of Atikus’s wispy white beard.

I ignored my brother. “Yes, sir. It felt like bees were crawling under my skin where it was warm. The feeling tickled at first but got stronger until it was like they all got mad and stung me. It didn’t hurt.”

“What were you thinking when the feelings started?”

“What do you mean?”

“Were you thinking about me? Were you thinking about your parents? Were you angry? What was in your mind when the bees crawled on your skin?”

“Oh.” A wave of embarrassment passed over me.

“Tell the truth, Keelan. I will not be angry with you.” Atikus leaned even closer.

I scuffed my feet and looked anywhere but in the old man’s face.

“I was thinking that you were wrong about our parents. No—that you were lying . It just popped into my head; I don’t know why. I didn’t mean to think that, but I can’t shake the feeling that it’s real. Why would a Mage lie about something like that?”

Atikus stood, his joints expressing their dissatisfaction with his adventure near the floor. He stared down at my brother, then me. His lips tightened as he searched for words.

The longer he stared, the more I was certain that I was about to be scolded.

Atikus settled his gaze back on me. His voice grew firm, but somehow gentle, too. “Son, I have never lied to you. I never will. It breaks my heart about your parents, but they really are gone, and there is nothing the Mages or anyone can do to bring them back. I wish it were not so.”

In my heart, I didn’t believe him.

I knew I should have, but I couldn’t.

This time, I kept my disbelief to myself.

The bees didn’t return.

Atikus ran his hand through his beard, then placed it back on my shoulder. “As for your bees, I know what is happening there. You have a Gift, Keelan, and it has awakened. I know the news about your parents is terrible and sad, but this is exciting, wonderful news. It is time to change your collar to gold, young man.”

I let go of Declan, shrugged off the Mage’s hand, and shuffled over to one of the big puffy chairs. So much had happened in such a short time, it was hard to wrap my head around everything.

My heart wouldn’t stop pounding, and my mind raced even faster.

I tried but couldn’t focus, so I turned to the last thing Atikus said.

“Why would a Gift want me?”

The Mage eased into the chair next to me, took Declan in his lap, and leaned forward. “Keelan, a Gift doesn’t choose us. We are either born with one, or we are not. Magic runs through family lines, meaning there is a better chance for you to have a Gift if your parents had one. Both of your parents were Gifted with extraordinarily powerful magic.”

“I still don’t understand. Does this mean I can talk to animals or something?”

Atikus chuckled. “For some, yes, animal communication is their Gift. It probably is not for you, though. How can I explain this?” He looked toward the ceiling. “Most people who have a Gift can do one specific thing. For example, a person with an ability that falls into the Natural pillar might be able to make plants grow faster or bigger, or they might be able to talk to animals. But not all three, just one of those.”

“Okay.” I drug the word out twice as long as it should have been. “But what does that mean for me? How do we know if I get to talk to flowers or bugs?”

At the mention of bugs, Declan perked up. “Prinnybugs!”

“Prinnybugs?” Atikus’s bushy brows lifted.

“Ladybugs,” I offered.

Atikus chuckled again, then pulled himself together. “About nine in ten people in Melucia have a Gift. That’s why you see so many people with gold collars or cuffs around the city. And yet, each of those gifts are unique.”

“I just thought people wanted to look fancy. It never made much sense, and those collars look stiff and itchy.”

Atikus barked a laugh that made Declan giggle and squirm.

“They can be itchy sometimes, but what they represent is an ability to do something special—something magical—and that is cherished and respected throughout our Empire.”

“Do you have a Gift then? Your collar is gold.”

“I do, my boy, I do.”

“Can you talk to trees?”

“No, not even close.” His grin widened. “My gift falls into the Mental pillar. I can recall anything I see, hear, or read, even the smallest detail others might not notice. It is not a flashy Gift that makes people’s eyes pop wide, but it is powerful in its own way. It helps me be a better teacher and historian.”

I pointed to the cuff on Atikus’s sleeve. “Why do you have two lines of gold?”

Atikus nodded. “That’s a very good question.”

“Are you gonna tell me the answer?”

“Well, my boy, I like to reward very good questions with equally good answers,” Atikus said. “A small number of people are born with two abilities, two Gifts. This only happens five or ten times in a generation. I am one of those lucky few. Our Arch Mage, Quin, also wears the double band. To my knowledge, we are the only two people in all of Melucia with two Gifts.”

“What about Empress Irina? I remember stories about her from when I was little. She could do anything with magic.”

“You are still little,” Atikus rumbled through another laugh, and Declan struggled to breathe between fits of giggles.

Irritated at the interruption of a good story, I shot my brother a stern glance that froze the giggle fit.

Atikus shook his head.

“Those are just tales, Keelan. Irina ruled the Kingdom of Spires over a thousand years ago. There is no doubt that she was a powerful Mage, and the histories even tell us she wore a golden robe, not one simply trimmed in gold. Some think she did that to fool a superstitious people into believing she was a goddess reborn, but I have seen no evidence that she had more than two gifts. Three, at the most.”

While Atikus spoke, Declan escaped his chair and was straining on tippy toes to reach a bottle filled with swirling blue liquid set on one of the nearby shelves. Quicker than I thought possible, the old man hopped up to intercept the toddler before he could do any damage. “I think that is enough of a history lesson for one day. Your mind is probably spinning while your heart is still heavy. We should at least take the worry of ‘what next?’ off your plate.”

“What about my bees?” I asked.

“Our Mages will need to study your magic to understand what you are now capable of, but manifesting your Gift means you will be admitted into the guild and may attend the Academy. I am sure the Mages will also accept little Declan into our home so you two can stay together. Would you like that?”

My head was reeling.

I looked at Declan for a long moment before responding. “I guess so.”

Atikus mussed Declan’s dandelion-puff hair. “Excellent. I will talk with the Guildmaster tonight.”

I woke covered in even more sweat than before.

My head ached.

My heart ached.

Everything in me ached.

Somehow, I had to win my brother back. We’d already lost so much. We couldn’t lose each other, too.