Page 109 of Oathborn
“She is the one you said will bring about a new age. The mark will aid her.” The Queen looked at him over a shoulder, a familiar smirk curving her red lips.
Tivre stared, hoping, despite knowing better, to find some empathy in her gaze. He found none, only the same uncanny familiarity that haunted him every day. That same cold, icy shade of blue, that same impassive expression, that same disdain for everything Tivre represented.
Javenthal had always been said to have his mother’s eyes.
Chapter forty-two
Tobias
The next morning, Tobias pulled on the spare Crimson uniform Lockwood had given him. As a boy, his father had humored his dreams of becoming a Crimson someday, even sewing a scrap of red ribbon onto a pair of trousers for Tobias’s birthday. Opening that gift, gasping at the makeshift uniform as well as his father’s battered war compass, was one of Tobias’s treasured memories. His father died in a shipwreck just weeks later.
Tobias still had the compass in his pocket. He’d asked his mother for his father’s dog tags, but she’d just shaken her head. “He told me that losing them saved his life. Which never made much sense, but he never talked much about the war, either. Told me once that it all seemed like such a waste of life, in the end.”
A strange thing to say, and something he found himself thinking of it again now as he ran through the woods, trying to clear his head. No matter how far he ran, he found himself unable to shake the memory of the beautiful fae woman, and her urgent plea for peace.
When he returned to the safehouse, at the door, he overheard furious shouting from inside.
“I fail to understand,” Samuel Lockwood said. “How an entire plane cango missing.”
“Apologies, sir,” said a stranger. “It surprised us too. But—”
“I don’t wantexcuses!”
Tobias decided he was better off leaving before he was noticed. With his luck, a missing plane was probably his fault too. This time, he didn’t run, but meandered through woods until he found a stream. He pursued it, watching the water’s speed increase. The stream’s gentle gurgle gave way to the river’s stronger current as it approached the thundering, misty falls.
With a startled gasp, Tobias spotted a familiar lean figure, standing on a rock in the middle of the rushing river. Dressed in now-soaked civilian clothes, Javen stared off into the distance, just as he sometimes did in the city, a faint crease between his brows, his jaw clenched. A single misstep, and Javen would tumble into the rapids below.
“Captain Javen!” Tobias shouted. “Do you need help?”
Turning toward him, Javen asked “Something wrong, Lieutenant? Do you think I value my own life so lowly?” Nimbly he stepped from one stone to another, as if he crossed a simple stream rather than the deadly top of the falls. A wry smile curved his lips. “Perhaps a fair assessment. If not for—” He trailed off, looking out to the misty distance, beyond the cliffs, where the fae isles lay, and shook his head.
Nothing more was said, and for once, Tobias managed to keep his mouth shut.
When Javen started to walk, he followed him back to the safehouse, which was now thankfully empty. A scrawled note from Lockwood stated something about checking the plane hangar near town.
“How about lunch?” Tobias was shocked when Javen answered with a shrug rather than an outright denial. The captain was different these past few days. Perhaps the change of setting was doing him good. Kirkton wasn’t exactly a resort town, but maybe the pollution of the capital agitated Javen.
Or maybe Tobias was starting to prove useful to him. He smiled at the thought. He’d managed to impress Erik before that Crimson had been killed. Maybe he still had a chance of earning Javen’s respect too.
The thought of Erik, though, bothered Tobias. As far as he knew, there was no funeral yet for those fallen soldiers. He’d promised himself he’d visit and pay his respects once he was told of the details.
Javen lit a cigarette, while Tobias found a loaf of bread and a can of soup, which he heated over the small kerosene stove. Further digging in the cabinets revealed two bowls and spoons. The little cabin seemed well-stocked with nonperishables. Lockwood must have used it as a way station for years.
How often had the Crimsons sat around this table, plotting their next moves?
By the time the food was ready, Javen had finished his cigarette. He sat at the table, pushed the bowl of soup away with a scowl, but cut a piece of the bread. Tobias wolfed down his own food, deciding as long as he was chewing, he wouldn’t be able to ask dumb questions.
“There was another attack,” Javen said, without preamble, setting down his half-eaten slice of plain bread. No jam, no butter, nothing. Did the man have no taste at all? “Another wave of smoke attacked a garrison nearby. Thankfully, they had silverbane on hand.”
“Did the smoke take the plane?”
Javen’s expression changed to show the barest hint of surprise. “A plane?”
“Yes, sir. Lockwood was, uh, quite cross this morning. Said one just went missing.”
Shaking his head, Javen muttered something under his breath. Tobias couldn’t quite catch what he said, but he heard a word that certainly began with a T, and was worried it was his name.
“It’s not my… fault, right?” Tobias asked, mouth full of soup. He swallowed quickly, nearly choking on a chunk of potato.
