Page 75 of An Archer's Reckoning

The guards’ horse reared, and the men fought to stay ahorse.

For countless generations, stories of Mages and magic had been woven into tales told to children in their beds. The name Órlaith had never entered my bedtime stories, but the Daughter of Magic filled many of them. It didn’t matter if the child was from the Kingdom or Melucia, one of the small border nations or among the island tribes, everyone knew some version of her legend.

Everyoneknewshe wasn’t real, just a story passed from mother to daughter, father to son—even the armored sons who clung to their saddles, trembling in her presence. Their expressions said they thought she wasn’t real, but she was sitting—noglowing, right in front of them.

Then she used the phrase reserved for kings and queens.

No oneswore by the Phoenix.

Not only was it heresy; it was illegal.

One of the guards startled back, blinked twice, then turned to the men inside and yelled, “Open the gate. Send a rider to the Triad. Now!” He turned back toward Órla, leaped from his horse, and dropped to one knee.

She said something I couldn’t hear. A moment later, the man was on his feet pulling the barricade aside with trembling hands. Three more guards helped clear a path, their eyes darting between the barrier and Órla the whole time.

“What would Ayden think of all this?”

“He would love how the men bow and scrape. You try to ignore that he is Lord Byrne.”

“He isn’t Lord anything yet.”

I’d tried using Telepathy to reach Ayden since we split up. Each night, I tried entering his dreams. After witnessing the carnage of Grove’s Pass, I wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms. Unfortunately, without the magnifying power of the stone circle and the Well, my magic failed to touch his mind.

I searched the wreckage of the town for hours but found no sign. He could’ve been buried beneath the rubble of the headquarters—or any of the other burned outbuildings, but I clung to hope that he somehow escaped and would appear before me with a lopsided grin and cheeky remark.

Spirits, let it be so.

I tried to suppress the gnawing in my gut that whispered he’d been captured—or worse—but it whittled away at my confidence with each stride.

More guards appeared. Their faces bore the terrified excitement of a child sitting atop a horse for the first time. Most snapped to attention and tried to avoid eye contact with Órla or me. A few dropped to their knees and pressed foreheads to the ground.

Órla’s giggle flooded my mind.

“I think they believe I’m real again. This part never gets old!”

“This part? You mean returning and no one believing you’re real? How many times have you made a surprise return?”

“Oh, a few. Every time it’s the same. It only takes a century or two for people to turn me into folklore. That is flattering, but still . . . Thenpoof. Here I am. All glowing and wonderful. I love that ‘Holy Spirits’ look they always give me. I mean, technically, Iama holy spirit. Really, Declan, you should try it sometime. It’s a lot of fun.”

I couldn’t suppress a boyish grin.“Let’s win the war first. We can think about pulling magical pranks afterward, okay?”

By the time our conversation ended, a path had been cleared and a row of guards lined either side with swords and pikes raised in salute. The gates opened wide, and a distant horn sounded five long blows.

“Five? What do you think that means?”Órla asked.

“Given the honor guard formed here, I’m not sure I want to know. Let’s get this grand entrance over with.”

She flapped her way to my shoulder, dropping her magical aura as she landed.

“Thanks. The glow was a bit much.”

“Says the guy in the glow-in-the-dark underwear.”

“Hey! It’s a holy tunic!”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s underwear.”

Chapter 27

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