Page 23 of An Archer's Reckoning

Ayden’s expression told me that was a stupid question.

“Right. Their scouts wouldn’t be killing ours if they planned to trade barley come spring.” I refilled our glasses, amused at the way he stared warily at the bottle. “What of the capital?”

“Who knows?” he said quietly. “I have been stuck out in my zone with little chance to hear from the east. I would assume they are preparing their defenses.”

“Whatever those might be.” I rolled my eyes. “This war will end before it begins if we count on strength of arms.”

“That was why you left me in the mountains, was it not?” Ayden sat back and crossed his arms. “You were sent on a secret mission in seek of magical aid.”

My heart chose that moment to leap into my throat. The entire trip back, I’d racked my brain for how to tell Ayden I had magic. He was still Mute. He always would be. From his perspective, I left the mainland only weeks ago. I was just as Mute as he. We shared a bond in our bitterness toward all things magic, even joked about it, complained about it, planned to live apart from the rest of humankind because of it.

In a strange way, our shared lack of a Gift brought us closer together than even our shared attraction. That might’ve been a stretch. I wasveryattracted to him. Still, my mind reeled at the idea he might reject me now that I was “one of them,” as we said recently.

It frightened me even more because this—whatever it was—between us was so new. I hadn’t stopped thinking about him since we parted, and I was fairly certain he felt the same about me, but still . . .

Would these feelings we shared be enough to overcome the difference that now stood between us? Would my tunic and all its gold burn too brightly for him to accept? My stomach churned with acidic angst, and I suddenly felt ill.

What was I now?

Gifted?

I didn’t even know what term to use.

Was I a Mage? A Mage of old?

The term probably didn’t matter. I was the only one of my kind, a magical prodigy or . . . a magical fluke, more like it.

“If you keep thinking so poorly of yourself, I will peck your eyes out.”

Órla’s sudden outburst startled me so badly I almost spilled my wine.

“Are you listening to my thoughts? Is that a new thing, or could you do it all along? Wait, don’t answer that. I don’t want to know.”

“We share everything, Bond-Mate. You know this.”

“I could do with a little less sharing, thank you very much.”

“What is happening here?” Ayden’s gaze shifted from me to Órla and back. “Everything turned quiet and . . . strange.”

Órla tottered up to Ayden and leaned in like she intended to whisper, which looked funny from an owl. Ayden glanced toward me with caution in his eyes, then leaned his ear toward the bird.

“Declanisstrange. You should know that by now.”

“I understand that more each moment,” Ayden said seriously. He sat back and rubbed his eyes. “Clearly, there is more to tell. I am as ready as I can be.”

“We’ll see about that,” Órla chirped.

If I hadn’t been so nervous about telling him the truth, I might’ve burst out laughing. As it was, I struggled to maintain eye contact. Sweat beaded along my neck.

“Start with what you’re wearing.” Ayden scowled at my tunic and waved a disapproving hand.

“This was . . . a gift.”

“At least you did not dip yourself in gold,” he muttered. “That is some relief.”

I ran a hand through my hair and leaned forward, desperate to get this out.

“I have magic, Ayden,” fell out of my mouth. “Agreat dealof magic. I mean, I have more magic than . . . more than anyone in Melucia, probably in the whole world.”

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