Page 93 of An Archer's Reckoning

“Oh, like who the mystery whisperer is?” Jess snarked.

“That is one thing, yes.” Atikus chuckled. “Keelan, I have an idea. I may be able to connect through my own Telepathic Gift next time. That would let me hear the speaker, possibly sense more about her magic. Grab my hand if she returns. Maybe I can even help you recognize her voice.”

I nodded. “All right, but my head’s pounding, and my eyes won’t stay open. Let’s get some rest and worry about our mystery gal tomorrow.”

“If she lets you sleep . . .” Jess muttered.

Morning bloomed late with winter’s laziness, giving me some much-needed rest. By the time I rose and wiped the clouds from my eyes, Atikus and Jess were finishing breakfast.

“Good morning, Great Protector.” Jess smirked from her seat by the fire. She shoved a piece of dried apple in her mouth. “There is tea on the fire. I am afraid the chef failed to prepare anything hot to eat this morning.”

I gawked. Jess hadn’t exactly been friendly to this point in our journey. “You are certainly in a good mood this morning, Majesty.”

She shrugged, winked, and took another bite.

My jaw dropped. Shewinked?

“Here.” Atikus handed me a steaming cup. “We still have about a day’s ride to Bo. Jess has been telling me more about this area. I think we will need your professional presence as we get closer to the town.”

“Professional presence, huh?” I quirked a brow. “What do you think we’re riding into? If Rutin was any indication, we will likely see more of the war recruitment effort. I wouldn’t be surprised if we saw more men in King’s livery rallying crowds again.”

Jess grimaced.

“Sorry,Queen’slivery.”

“That was not what I was thinking about.” She snorted. “This whole war is insane. It is based on lies, but I can think of no way to stop it.”

Atikus spoke over the top of his mug, steam billowing with his breath. “I do not think you can at this point. The wheels of war turn slowly but are hard to stop once they are moving. If youstood in these town squares and told people to stand down, they would think you were coerced and would still demand war.”

“I cannot just do nothing. I am Queen now.”

“I have been thinking about that, actually,” the Mage said. “Perhaps we could use this time on the road to think about how you help both nations recover once the war is over. There will be death and destruction on both sides of the border. Families will be left broken. They will need help—and someone to believe in, someone to follow.”

I wandered over. “And who knows how much damage Melucian cities will endure? It’ll be a long time before trust can be restored between our countries, but helping with reconstruction would be a good start.”

Jess put her head in her hands. Her voice was muffled when she spoke. “This makes my head hurt. So many people . . . All I ever wanted was to be a good queen. Now, my whole reign will be covered in blood.”

“No one will blame you, Jess.” Atikus laid a weathered hand on her shoulder. “The people on both sides of the border will know you did not start this madness. You were dragged into it.”

“Talking about what’s next is great, but we still have to make it to the coast and survive the war.” I downed my tea. “We need to be on our way. I don’t like sitting out here in the open, in broad daylight.”

We chatted and rode, exhausting the daylight hours before the first signs of life came into view. Rough crop rows now covered in a scattering of snow marked the beginning of farms surrounding a town’s perimeter. The day was cold but clear.

I squinted, hand shielding my eyes from the dying sun as I tried to make out distant silhouettes moving across the snowy land.

“Looks like somebody’s spotted us. I think there are two people watching,” I said.

“Time to greet the locals. Jess, I think it is best if you are my granddaughter for the rest of this trip. We are on our way back home, which is just outside Kitchton, all right?” Atikus said.

Jess nodded. “And who is the big lug supposed to be?”

“Hey!”

Atikus grinned. “Keelan has always been my son. So that is Uncle Lug to you.”

“Don’t encourage her.” I scowled in mock indignation.

It took another quarter hour to reach the farmhouse and our onlookers. A man in a rough-spun shirt and dark, mud-caked pants waved an arm and hobbled in our direction.

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