Page 98 of An Archer's Reckoning

That was exactly the selfless sacrifice I might expect based on what the old Mage had told me of the Guardsman’s past.

Keelan kept his cards close, but he was an easy read.

He wanted to do well, to do good.

He wanted to be the hero.

He wanted to protect.

Spotting motives in the towering man was as easy as picking fruit from a tree. There was no guile in him, no courtly subterfuge. He was as open as any book left carelessly strewn atop tables in my father’s library.

There was a childlike innocence to Keelan. He was not childish, yet a sense of wonder at people and the world reminded me of my youngest brother, Kendall, and his reaction each time he saw something new. They shared the same curiosity, the same need to understand. I half expected the man to ask, “Why?” with the same incessant repetition as my little brother.

And then, there was Atikus.

One thought of the old Mage made me smile.

I could see his disheveled beard and even less obedient eyebrows.

His eyes had more emotion in them than most people had in their entire face.

The Mage bore no Gift of Charisma, yet he drew me to him. Whether telling stories of old or offering a gentle hand, he smiled freely and laughed even more so. Even throughout our flight from Cradle, Atikus remained upbeat and encouraging . . . orhungry.

I laughed out loud.

Dittler looked back, startled by my sudden outburst.

“It is all right, boy. I was thinking of Atikus.”

He snorted and shook his head as though he understood and shared my amusement. I blinked a few times, certain I had seen recognition in his eyes, then shook off the odd feeling and resumed my rumination.

Keelan.

His motives might be plainly scrawled across his forehead, butthe manstill felt like a mystery.

Where Atikus laid his thoughts and feelings out for all to see, Keelan barely acknowledged he even possessed emotions. I knew now that he was simply reserved, a product of his upbringing, but that didn’t make communicating with or understanding him any easier.

In the week or so I’d known him, the man had not shared anything about himself, always finding some way to turn conversations back toward me.

He is an investigator, a trained interrogator.

Was that what he was doing? Interrogating me?

A flash of anger fueled my next moments before I realized how silly it was to be mad at a man for asking about me, rather than droning on about himself the whole time. Spirits, how many times had I wished someone in the Palace would stop talkingatme and actually talkwithme?

I had a tall, handsome, strong, intelligent man who wanted to know more about me, what I felt, what I thought—and I wasupsetabout that?

I suddenly felt foolishly fickle.

Keelan’s icy blue eyes found their way into my mind.

I sighed and stared into them, then waved them away in an annoyed huff.

There is no time for all of that. Besides, he barely cares for my company.

The clouds finally parted, revealing a bright, near-full moon.

Something tickled my nose.

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