Page 110 of Oathborn
“Not that I know of. The attack I mentioned was at a nearby outpost. One without planes. Smoke descended on the sleeping soldiers. Two survived long enough to send a telegram. By the time I arrived, they were dead.”
“But the Accords?”
“Remain,” Javen said flatly.
“Because Blood Ember isn’t bound by them?” Remembering how often Javen had explained the monster had nothing to do with the smoke, Tobias amended his comment. “Or rather, any fae who isn’t Oathborn is not bound by them.” The longer he traveled with Javen, the more Tobias understood justhow complex the Accords were. Not just a peace treaty, but rather, a magical, living document.
“Correct.” Javen lit another cigarette, done with his lunch after just one piece of bread. “An unfortunate loophole. General Ankmetta was too optimistic, and now two dozen lives have paid the price of his miscalculation. So tell me, do you think the fae still desire peace?”
“Some must.”
Javen snorted in disdain.
This was his chance. He had to make a case for peace. He owed it to the beautiful fae with such conviction in her eyes. “Sir, with all due respect.” Tobias stood. “I didn’t tell you everything that happened last night. There was another fae. Not an Oathborn, not a threat. Someone who wanted to be an ally.”
Fighting against his natural urge to ramble, Tobias felt more sure of himself as he spoke, convinced that if Javen would just listen to him a little while longer, he might actually be able to share something important. “She talked to me about her belief in peace and suggested we could work together. She wasn’t anything like I had always thought a fae would be. Not cruel, not dangerous, but kind, and beautiful, and—”
“And perhaps a liar?” Javen interrupted. “You took her at her word and yet fail to take me at mine.”
“I am—”
“Easily swayed by a pretty face, it seems.” There was a smugness in Javen’s tone, almost a pettiness, that Tobias would have expected from one of his own peers, not the captain.
“What about you, though?” Tobias blurted out, thinking of the sketch he’d found that night. “Your wife. Wasn’t she beautiful?”
Javen’s hand hit the table hard enough to rattle the dishes and spill his untouched bowl of soup. The liquid oozed over the wooden table, chunks of potatoes sliding past like icebergs. “You mock me.”
“No. I don’t.” Not a good time to admit he’d seen a drawing of who he was pretty sure was Javen’s wife. There might never be a good time, in fact. He’dhave to stall or distract Javen. “I just figured, a guy as good-looking as you, that you’d have a real stunner of a wife, you know?”
Cold blue eyes blinked at him. “What does my appearance have to do with this discussion, Lieutenant?”
“Attractive folks tend to find other pretty people. That’s all.” Tobias tried for his best, most cheerful grin. He’d rather have the captain think he was an idiot than have him find out Tobias had pried in his personal belongings.
“I see,” Javen said, in a way that clearly implied he didn’t at all.
“There’s even an old saying about it. Fine nets catch the—”
“Prettiest fish,” Javen finished the saying, and Tobias nearly fell out of his chair at the words. “Yes, I’ve heard that before.”
Like most Karsici sayings, it was playful, the sort of thing to be said with an elbow to the side and a wink in the eye. At least, that was always how he’d heard the line delivered. Javen, though, said it like a bitter curse.
Was his wife from Karsic? Maybe she was a poor fisherman’s daughter, and Javen, clearly an aristocrat, had been forbidden from marrying her. Or perhaps, she’d rescued him when he’d been shipwrecked in some naval exercise on the coast, or… a dozen more ideas, all inspired by his ma’s romance novels, danced in his head.
None of which were things he should say to Javen. In fact, while he’d daydreamed, the captain had cleaned up the spilled soup and started to tidy up. Somehow, Javen was the type who could make even dish washing look like the precursor to a painful interrogation session.
“I’m sorry, sir,” Tobias said, his throat tight. He shouldn’t have been so flippant, not when Javen grieved his wife so deeply. “I didn’t mean… I’m sure it’s not easy… living without her. My ma still misses my father, and it’s been, oh, eight years?”
“Eight years,” Javen said, sounding a little surprised. He set down the last of the now-clean dishes and dried his hands. “How old are you?”
Tobias swallowed, resisting the urge to mention that, just maybe, an officer ought to know the age of theonlyperson under his command. “Eighteen, sir.” He’d been the youngest in his class at the Academy.
“Such a child,” Javen mused, shaking his head.
Tobias gritted his teeth. Javen was wrong in that assessment. After his father’s death, Tobias had taken on many of the household duties, to help his family. Even now, he sent most of his paycheck back home. “Cause you’resomuch older, right? What are you? Twenty-eight? Thirty?”
Javen laughed, just once, making Tobias feel like he’d missed some critical punchline. He strode to the door and opened it. “If you are still certain there can be peace with the fae, follow me.”
They walked for over an hour, through the woods and away from the falls. Eventually, Tobias gave up on the quiet and started to talk, telling Javen about life in Karsic, about his siblings, his ma’s cooking, anything he could think of to fill the void that hung heavy in the air. Then, as the tree line thinned, and a clearing appeared, Javen’s usual sure stride faltered. He reached for his cigarettes, his hand trembling.
