Page 53 of An Archer's Reckoning

I’d been kidnapped, drugged, and nearly killed. My father and brother, the two people I loved more than anyone, had been slaughtered.

And Danym . . .

“Your Majesty looks a little flushed. Is there anything you would care to discuss?” Atikus asked from across the fire.

The old Mage had been staring.

“No. And stop staring.” I practically spat the last word.

Atikus smiled. He actuallysmiledat me.

That made my blood boil hotter.

Atikus lowered his voice, calm and steady. “Jess, there are three of us out here. Only three. There are probably thousands, tens of thousands, with orders to bring us back. Be angry. Hateanyone and everyone. Given what you have just been through, I would be shocked otherwise; but you cannot be angry withus. If we are going to survive all of this, we need each other.”

“I do not need your—”

“Young lady, you most certainly do.” His brows raised almost to his hairline, and his voice firmed. “Someone put a royal ring on your finger a few days ago and you already think you can do it all on your own? How ridiculous. I have seen many rulers lose their heads for that kind of arrogance. And stupidity.”

I fought to make my mouth move. No one spoke to me that way. Ever.

Except my mother, and I would die before accepting her loving embrace again.

I shot to my feet.

“You willneverspeak to me in that tone again, Mage. I am your Sovereign. You will pay me respect.”

Atikus actually chuckled. “Actually,Jess, you arenotmy Sovereign, nor are you Keelan’s. Might I remind Her Majesty, twoMeluciansare currently saving her royal ass?”

I glared, desperate for a sharp retort, but none came.

Atikus gestured, palms outward in the universal sign of surrender. “Please, come sit with me.”

“I am fine where I am.” I crossed my arms and flopped back onto my pallet, keeping my eyes trained on Atikus.

The Mage ran a hand aimlessly along his beard.

“I have lived longer than you might imagine, and I knew your father. He was a good man.” I felt the sadness in Atikus’s words.

“You did? How?”

“This is not the first time we have met.” His eyes flittered with memories. “I traveled to Fontaine on a diplomatic mission for the guild many years ago, early in your father’s reign. He was a proud man, back straight, eyes alight with life and laughter. Hewas especially proud in that moment because his first child had just been born.”

I sat up, crossed my legs, and leaned forward. “You were there when I was born?”

“Spirits, no, not for your actual birthing.” He chuckled. “I arrived in the capital a few days after your birth. The King met with our delegation several times over the following week. You were present each time. Your father declared our meetings to be the beginning of your monarchical training.”

A wry grin tugged at my lips. “He would.”

“Your mother paraded you about. You were swaddled in a light-blue silk blanket, clutched so tightly I thought she might smother you. She was terrified you might fall . . . or choke . . . or fall asleep and not wake . . . or die in many other terrible ways. I do not think I have ever seen a new mother fret so much.”

“I never want to talk about her again,” I snapped, a war between curiosity, anger, and pain raging in my chest.

Atikus continued as though he hadn’t heard me. “Then there was your father, every bit a King in his prime.”

The cooling embers popped, and I jumped.

When Atikus remained quiet, I looked up. “You were talking about my father.”

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