Page 113 of Oathborn
He lifted and draped her arm back over her chest. Still, paralysis gripped her. If she wasn’t so tired, and in so much pain, panic might have set in.Instead, she figured her mind was doing its best to distance itself from everything she’d undergone in that brief meeting with the Queen.
A soft cloth brushed over her neck, and Tivre hissed in annoyance. “Damned line of Arte,” he muttered. “Had to be the Matron who founded that family line, didn’t it? Couldn’t have been one of the nicer deities, no. Had to be the worst one.”
Was Tivre implying the mark had something to do with the fae goddesses? Zari tried again to speak, and again, was unable to.
What a fool she’d been, thinking this con was possible. The Queen would surely figure out she was no Oathborn and have her killed. Then, would Tivre be sent back to fetch Annette? What would happen to the Accords? To her friends? And her father, would he know she had died in this foolish attempt to see him?
“I’ll be back soon.” A door creaked open and shut, leaving Zari alone in the darkness.
Fears swirled around Zari like hungry beasts. She worried for herself, for Hazelle and Daeden, for sweet little Ashali left behind, and even for Tivre. He’d seemed afraid of the Queen in a way she’d not seen him be for any of the other challenges they’d faced.
Eventually, her nose started to itch, and she was relieved to find that she was able to lift a hand to rub it. She swung her feet onto the floor. Her head spun, the room pitching and wheeling wildly.
Soon, the door creaked open. In the darkness, green eyes glowed. Zari’s breath caught until a globe of light illuminated Tivre’s face. His white hair seemed more rumpled than ever, and deep shadows hung under his eyes.
“What is going on?” she asked. “The Queen… my neck…”
“I know,” he said tiredly, striding to reach her. With a surprisingly gentle touch, he ran fingers over where the Queen had marked her. Goosebumps pricked her skin as he spoke. “It’s a sort of permanent sigil. She—”
“Permanent?”
“Indeed. All the more reason to get you off the isles. This was a mistake.”
“No! You can’t send me back, not without my father.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.” He took a deep breath. He raked a hand through his snowy-white hair, sending the thick, soft tufts out in wild directions. The unkemptness of his hair always seemed to match the level of his stress.
“Why?”
“I’ve spent the past decade flirting, drinking, and sleeping with a wide variety of lovely individuals, none of which I have ever been faithful to, nor have I ever promised to be so, to any of them. As such, I—”
“That is far more personal information than I would like.”
Tivre ignored her interruption. “As such, I have a well-known penchant for bringing assorted lovers to equally assorted places inside the palace, seeking both privacy and novelty.”
Zari’s face flamed. “Truly, I don’t—”
“Do you want to see your father?”
“Are you saying if I sleep with you, then—”
“How could you ever get that idea? No. I meant I can get you to your father tonight. To do so, I’m going to have to make it very clear that my new lover and I are giddily seeking privacy and—”
“Wait. Can you see the future?” she cut in. “When the Queen said you have visions…”
Tivre’s expression darkened. “Do you want to see your father or not?”
The non-answer told her everything she needed. Still, she refused to back down. “I asked a question.”
“Given that this is my plan and my power, and my damned magic we’re discussing,” Tivre snapped, “I cannot simply explain the ways of the divine to a pesky mortal who can’t even comprehend a hundred years’ time, let alone a thousand. You have no concept of magic, no understanding of the weaving of sigil light and sea air. Why should I bother to describe to you how cloaked you are in visions, how many futures I have perceived that you are a part of?”
It was the most honest Tivre had ever been with her, and the most terrifying. How easy it always was to forget how powerful he was. “Fine. What must I do to see my father?”
With considerable eyerolling and sighing, he explained the way they’d sneak from corridor to corridor, pausing to hide her face in his embrace anytime someone drew near. Sensing her nervousness, Tivre promised her he wouldn’t kiss her lips, not unless she told him to. “I assumed this would be your first kiss,” he added. “I have no desire to steal that from someone more deserving of your affection.”
Yansin had been her first kiss. Had he been deserving of it? She’d been so sure, while she’d traveled with him. Now, doubt crept into her mind. He was a thief, as well as perhaps a liar. A nagging sense that what he hadn’t told her far outweighed the bits of honesty he’d given her lingered in her heart.
“What about Daeden?” she asked. “Will he mind?”
