Keeper of Keys Outtake: The Quarrel

Spoilers for Keeper of Keys ahead...

This scene appeared in the original first draft of Keeper of Keys. As you'll notice, there are a number of things that changed from first to final draft. Here's a brief rundown:

• There was originally supposed to be an on-page battle that involved the clan army versus Gerallt's army - this scene takes place after the clans' victory, which came as a result of the enemy's disorganization and infighting.

• In the original draft, Gerallt and Aila were both killed in the first battle. Caitir retreated to the city with the Sentries and took the throne.

• Aidryn, Lira, Fiadh, Talfryn, and the rest of the crew are all present at the war camp - there was no separating Aidryn and Lira, no broken magic, and Fiadh's defection came shortly after this scene.

• At this point, Aidryn and Lira are still at odds over what should be done about Eremon. The truth about him is still up in the air, and came a bit later in this version of the book.

• Caitir is the one with Itelorian allies in this version, not Aila.

• Fiadh's confrontation with Lira probably looks a little familiar. :)

• There's a girl-to-girl interlude between Lira and Oda that didn't make it into the final.

• In this version, Thorne is staunchly against Fiadh riding to Va'hesk with Aidryn.

As I developed Keeper, I realized that Aidryn and Lira did not need to remain at odds about Eremon or Va'hesk long-term. While I wanted to maintain a note of tension between them, I didn't want them to continually fight. Instead, I shifted the higher tension to what builds between Thorne and Lira, and between Fiadh and Lira.

Honestly, my main motivation for sharing this clip is that I neeeeed Thorne's awkward tea-sipping to see the light of day. :) Enjoy!

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The commanders were set to gather in Thorne’s tent at dawn to discuss their next moves. To his credit, Thorne appeared to have risen before the sun, and had brewed strong tea for everyone. Lira and Aidryn were the first to arrive, so he handed them each an earthenware mug and they sat at his table together, sipping the steaming brew.

“I heard from my scouts,” he said quietly to Aidryn, before anyone else joined them. “Your sister has secluded herself in the city, with a group of magic-wielders from Iteloria—perhaps a few from the clans. They aren’t expected to march again for some time.”

“That’s a relief,” Lira breathed, taking a sip. Aidryn glanced sidelong at her before lifting his own mug to his lips.

“It could be. Hard to say,” Thorne replied. “Delaying the next battle is good.”

“Time means we can build our forces,” Aidryn said. “And we should think about gathering allies in Iteloria. If Caitir has them, so should we.”

Lira nodded in agreement. “That’s wise.”

“Outside of your family, Aidryn, who has contacts there?” Thorne asked.

Aidryn’s gaze dropped to the table, and he shook his head almost imperceptibly. The mention of Iteloria was a reminder of his father’s death. Of the rest of his family’s betrayal. Of Caitir’s fall into darkness.

Lira remained silent for a moment, reluctant to say the first thing that came to mind. But if she didn’t, she might very well be giving up their only chance at an alliance.

“M—Macha,” she stammered quietly. “If she’s still alive. And if we can get back into the crypt.”

Aidryn’s expression darkened, his gaze boring into Lira. “Why would you even consider her?”

She shrugged a shoulder, suddenly uncomfortable beneath his scrutiny. “We’re likely to encounter her again, when we make contact with Eremon.”

Her husband shook his head, scoffing at her. “Of all people, I can’t believe you still think that monster was telling you the truth.”

Thorne watched them quietly, knitting his brows. He lay both palms on the table before him carefully, as if the tension that had suddenly sprung up between them were weighing heavily on him. Oda entered the tent silently, took one look at Aidryn and Lira, and made to leave again. Thorne held up a hand, beckoning her to stay. Her eyes were wide with worry, but she remained, lingering near the tent flap.

“I believed her,” Thorne offered cautiously.

“I can feel the truth, Aidryn—you know I can,” Lira said, anger stirring in her belly. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought.”

“I don’t see why we should risk ourselves on some crusade to raise a dead man, when we don’t even know if the story is true,” Aidryn barreled on. “You have no memories to corroborate even the notion of it.”

“How do you know?” Lira asked angrily. “Isn’t it possible we could have missed something?”

“I looked into your magic myself,” Aidryn said. “There’s absolutely nothing.”

Lira bristled, feeling for the first time as though he’d invaded her privacy. “That’s because the mortal gods and goddesses died—”

“And left no trace of what happened to them afterward,” he finished. “So why would you hinge the success of this war on something we have no evidence of?”

“Because otherwise, we’re fighting an uphill battle that will never end,” Lira argued. “We need his power and the advantage he could give us. We don’t know if or when Caitir will call up her own army from Iteloria to trample the troops we’ve gathered ourselves. And without Clan Tarlach, we’re short the warriors we need to help us win.”

“Then I will go to Va’hesk myself and ask them to join us,” Aidryn said, raking a hand through his hair. “It’s something I’ve thought about from time to time—especially lately. If they won’t respond to our letters, surely they’ll listen to their Anointed in person.”

“We can go to Va’hesk, yes,” Lira agreed, “after we make contact in Iathium.”

“Silira,” Aidryn said, standing abruptly. “We have so little time. Why waste it? We’re more likely to gather warriors there—and less likely to clash with a treacherous witch who tried to have you killed.”

“Why can’t we do both?” she asked incredulously standing as well. She wasn’t going to let him tower over her like some lord. “Surely, there’s time enough for that.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I thought we’d agreed to try this.”

“You decided it,” Aidryn replied. “I haven’t gotten a word in edgewise.”

Lira’s chest tightened. “If something I said was upsetting to you, why didn’t you mention it before?”

“Because I didn’t think you would listen—just as you aren’t listening, now.”

Thorne’s amber eyes flicked back and forth between them. He raised his mug, sipping his tea awkwardly.

“If I feel secure in a decision, I’m going to defend it!” she cried. “What if getting to Eremon is the only way to gain a real advantage?”

“Why can’t you follow my instincts for once?” he asked hotly. “Every step of the way, I’ve followed your lead. What if gathering Tarlach gives us enough power—enough warriors—to avoid the crypt? Best if Macha rots alone down there and no one knows any different.”

Lira felt a strange pang of grief at the thought of the woman dying, buried alone down there. She remembered Macha’s desperation—her regret. The woman’s emotions had been hard for Lira to let go of.

When she didn’t answer immediately, Aidryn just shook his head. “I can’t believe you,” he said, “after everything she did. After she tortured you and nearly killed you. After she cost Talfryn his arm. After she locked you up in that damned chamber with the remains of your dead lover.”

Lira flinched, tears springing to her eyes. “Aidryn, stop it.”

“Tarlach,” Thorne barked.

Aidryn ignored the Beran warrior. “Do you even care about what I think?”

“I do! And I want you with me,” she protested.

“Or do you just hope Eremon is still alive out there somehow,” Aidryn barreled on, “so you can run back to him?”

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the tent. Aidryn’s words bludgeoned Lira, taking her breath. Tears sprang to her eyes as she shook her head in disbelief.

“You’ve been waiting for a chance to get your dig, haven’t you?” she asked, her throat clenching. “You can’t get at anyone from your family for what’s happened, so you’re coming at me.”

“Lira,” Oda warned in a low voice.

Aidryn stood before her, staring hard at her, as though the swell of emotions crashing into her had no bearing on him. “Perhaps, for the first time, I understand how completely I’ve given myself over to everyone around me for most of my life. Maybe I want to choose what’s best for me, just once.”

“No one is keeping you from Va’hesk,” Lira whimpered pitifully. “It’s a good idea.”

“Exactly. But you think your ideas are better,” he shot back. “You always have.”

Lira’s chin trembled, and she whirled, shoving past Oda and out into the humid morning air. A small crowd was gathered outside—Faolan, Aeron, Ellwyn, Talfryn. Fiadh. It was obvious they’d been standing there listening. Lira’s cheeks were blazing as she locked eyes with Faolan’s black-haired twin, and the girl let a subtle smirk cross her face.

Lira paused, sizing her up. “This is your doing, isn’t it?” she seethed, stepping nose-to-nose with Fiadh.

“I’d say he’s thinking for himself, for once,” the girl answered quietly.

“He always did,” Lira replied.

Fiadh scoffed. “You’d be surprised.”

“Let me pass.” Lira tried to sidestep the girl, but she blocked the pathway. One of the young men—she wasn’t sure who—called Fiadh down, but the girl kept talking.

“All he ever did was let you drag him into your orbit, over and over again. He never had his own life. He was always ready to leap for his family, or the Archive, or you. So I think you’d do well to let him take something for himself now. He’s given you enough.”

Lira slapped Fiadh across the cheek with a loud crack, so hard her hand stung when it was over. Fiadh’s head snapped to the side and she stepped back, stunned, raising her fingers to the now-tender skin. She hurled some obscenity at Lira—but her ears were ringing with rage, and she didn’t register what it was—only the look of triumph on Fiadh’s face.

When Lira tried to advance on her again, Oda caught her by the wrist, pulling her away.

“Enough,” Oda said, steering Lira out of the crowd and across the camp.

Lira let her friend take the lead. She moved mechanically, never bothering to wrest her arm from Oda’s grasp. There was something familiar—grounding, even—in the connection.

When they reached the tent where Oda had been sleeping, she raised the flap and led Lira inside. The soldier she shared the tent with was still sprawled out on her bedroll, sleeping soundly. Oda nudged the girl with her foot and coaxed her out of the tent before offering the extra bedroll to Lira.

“Sit,” she commanded, and Lira obeyed.

Oda sat across from her, so close their knees were touching. “Do you want to tell me what all that was about?”

“Was it not obvious?” Lira asked quietly, staring at her hands.

“Not particularly. It seemed overblown to me.” Oda leaned forward and reached for Lira’s chin, tipping her face up. “Look at me now, Lira.”

Lira raised her eyes to meet her friend’s gaze.

“Truth and fear make strange companions,” she began, pressing her palm to Lira’s cheek. “Each of you bears a little truth and a lot of fear. It’s why you struck Fiadh—her words hit some chord, or else you wouldn’t have.”

Lira’s face flushed. “I should not have done that.”

“Yes, you should,” Oda said solemnly. “She is trying to drive a wedge between you and your husband, and it is working. You cannot let it continue.”

“He loved her once,” Lira whimpered. “Do you think he might love her still?”

“Has he ever told you he loved her?” Oda asked, raising an eyebrow.

“No…” Lira thought for a moment—back to Skelly’s cottage in the spring. “He told me he’d only ever loved one person—me—and I didn’t return his feelings back then. Why would he have lied about that?”

“What makes you think he would lie?” Oda said gently. “Has he given you any reason to believe he would do you harm?”

“He lied about a great many things surrounding the histories and the magic, but only because he thought it would protect me,” Lira ventured. “At least, as far as I know. Fiadh was the one who suggested he keeps other secrets.”

“Like her? And what else?” Oda pressed.

“I don’t know. But he never spoke of her. I never knew.”

“Because he didn’t want you to think he was courting her. And why do you think that would be?”

Lira shrugged a shoulder. But she recalled a day in the Archive, long ago, when she’d encouraged Aidryn to pursue the dark-haired girl who seemed so enamored of him. At the time, Lira had hardly been self-aware enough to realize her own feelings for him.

“It’s my fault,” she finally whispered. “I was so oblivious to his affection back then, and Fiadh was right in front of him. I—I encouraged it.”

“And you would punish him now for pursuing her back then? When you told him to?”

Lira shifted, picking at one of her fingernails. “I’m just afraid of losing him. We’ve both lost so much. And here, he could decide she was better than me after all, and fall right into her trap. Or, he could go off to Va’hesk and never return.”

“Or you could go off to Iathium and never return.”

Lira nodded. “Exactly. Any number of terrible things could happen.”

“I feel your fear,” her friend said. “Yours, and his. You fear more loss—especially now that you have Aidryn.”

“Of course—why wouldn’t I? The last man I loved died in my arms.”

Oda smiled and shook her head sadly. “Aidryn fears losing you, too. Not only because your missions will be treacherous, but—if I’m correct—he believes he will never compare to Eremon.”

“What?” Lira breathed. But she could see it. It was painfully clear that he’d seen himself as no match for the young ruler. Perhaps that was why he’d tried to forget, just for a little while, by pursuing Fiadh.

But clearly, their courtship hadn’t lasted for long. And Aidryn had begged her to run away with him from the moment he suspected Eremon’s fate.

“Lira,” Oda said softly, interrupting her thoughts, “Stop holding on so tightly.”

A tear coursed down Lira’s cheek. “How do I stop fearing loss?” she whispered.

“You don’t stop,” Oda answered. She reached out to squeeze Lira’s hand. “You think of the fear as a companion. Acknowledge it. Invite it to walk alongside you. But don’t let it change the way you live your life or love the people in it.

“If loving Aidryn means sending him to Va’hesk right now, then send him. Don’t hold him back,” she continued. “You both have plenty of eyes to watch over you. He will be protected, as you will be, also.”

“It shouldn’t take long,” Lira bargained.

Oda smiled sadly. “Sometimes, negotiations take quite a long while. You will both need to prepare for that possibility. Time will tell.

“As for you, you will need to decide what’s going to happen once you’ve awakened Eremon from his sleep.”

Lira sighed. “I haven’t had time to think about that part yet. Return here, to the camp? Join Aidryn?”

“Think on it. But you must remember, the Eremon you’re about to meet may not be the one you remember,” Oda said.

Lira’s stomach dropped. “I’ve thought about that, many times. I don’t know what to expect. Part of me feels as though he’ll return unchanged, but I doubt that’s possible.”

“Don’t count on it,” her friend replied. “But let’s agree to something right now: if Aidryn can’t bring himself to join you in Iathium, I will go in his stead.”

“You would leave the army behind to help me?”

“This time, yes. For a little while.” Oda fingered one of the white twists that framed her face. “I think there is time while Caitir’s army regroups. Once the fighting starts again, the army is my priority. So if you’re going to do this, we’ll need to go quickly.”

Just then, the tent flap opened and Thorne peeked inside. The hulking man seemed too large for Oda’s tiny tent, but he squeezed inside with them anyway and sat beside Oda on her bedroll.

“I’m sending Bard with Tarlach,” he declared. “If I could go myself, I would. Fiadh is stirring up the camp—says she will go with him. I’ll see that she doesn’t.”

Lira scoffed. “Why am I not surprised?”

“As long as you appear at odds with Aidryn, she will use it to her advantage,” Oda cut in. “Get out there and put a stop to it.”

Lira rose, smoothing her tunic. “I will. I need…” She studied the runic tattoo on her wrist quietly, tracing its lines. They were still solid and clear—a sacred promise that still held true.

“You’re not powerless,” Thorne said softly. “Go.”

Wordlessly, Lira pushed herself to move, ducking out of the tent and scanning the camp. She didn’t see Aidryn immediately, so she wove her way through the tents toward where the commanders were meeting. Talfryn and Faolan sat near where she’d left them, but Aeron, Fiadh, and Aidryn were gone.

Her brother looked up at her, his green eyes filled with pity. Panic rose in her throat as she scanned the area, but Faolan rose and approached.

“Come on,” he said, offering her his arm. “I’ll take you to him.”

Lira was taken aback. Faolan was usually neither tender nor gallant. But she took his arm anyway, trying not to lean into him with relief as he led her away.

_

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