Page 120 of Oathborn
Zari stiffened at the insinuation. There seemed to be no end to the things he’d jest about, even in the most dangerous of circumstances.
Syonia rolled her eyes. “The Queen should not trust you with her precious new soldier. This Oathborn girl needs to prepare for her duties, which is a task I am far more suited for.”
Nothing about that sounded good. Zari’s heart raced, faster than it had even when she’d been kissing Tivre. She fought to regain any shred of calmness, but it felt impossible. The stone walls seemed to press closer, the dampness and the smell of the sea nearly suffocating her.
Syonia whistled. The shrill noise cut through the silence. Two figures emerged from the shadows at the top of the stairs. Both of them were dressed in black, with swords strapped to their hips and their long hair pulled back in simple braids. The taller of the two looked familiar. Zari couldn’t quite place why.
Once Tivre sucked in a sharp breath, she did. “Daeden?” she asked, both relieved he’d managed to make it back to the isles and confused by his silence. He hadn’t acknowledged either of them.
Hadn’t even spoken, in fact. Nor did his face give away any expression.
Syonia cleared her throat. “The Queen has commanded Daeden to follow my orders today. I find it much easier to think when Oathborn aren’t allowed to be so chatty.”
Chapter forty-six
Zari
Horror washed over Zari. Compelled… not to speak? The very fact magic could do such a thing seemed impossible, and yet, the proof was in Daeden’s blank expression. The second fae standing by Daeden remained just as motionless, just as silent.
“How dare you,” Tivre began. “You are not a member of the royal family, Syonia, no matter what you pretend. You have no right to—”
“The Queen granted me this right,” Syonia continued, “as she did not take kindly to Stellaris Hazelle’s rashness in following you south.” A punishment, then. Another mark of the Queen’s cruelty. “So, little Zari, you too, fall under my command, at least for now.”
“Zari, you do not—” Tivre started, but she put her hand on his wrist.
“I must do as the Queen wishes,” Zari said. If there was any reason to suspect she wasn’t Oathborn, her life would be forfeit.
“It is not an Oath for you to do so. Not yet.” Urgency cut through his tone, and she caught his underlying meaning. She was not compelled to do as Syonia asked.
“All the same, it is the Queen’s wish that Zari journeys to the shore and returns with the Crescent Blade.” Syonia smiled, showing fanged teeth.
That sword had been in the stories Yansin had told Zari. The Crescent Blade, he’d said, had been forged by the fae goddesses and wielded by some of the greatest heroes. “Why am I being asked?”
With a shrug, Syonia replied, “This is but the start of the plans the Queen has made. I have already had a boat fetched, and it waits for her to be escorted to where the Blade rests.”
The smallest flicker of emotion passed over Daeden’s face, as if he wished to speak and could not do so. Syonia, seeing it, snapped her fingers. A sudden flare of purple light appeared, and she spun it into one of those twisting sigils, then let it dance over her open palm.
Daeden blanched.
Whatever the sigil’s magic contained, it was clearly a threat. It had silenced him as surely as a drawn blade would. As an Oathborn, though, she had no doubt he could have disarmed any enemy.
The unfairness, the horrid impact of the Oathborn magic hit Zari once more. She took a steadying breath. “This Blade. Where is it?” Syonia had mentioned the shore, which sounded like a return to Rhydonia, to the territory she’d left.
It sounded like a retreat, away from her father and any hope of rescuing him.
“The Blade rests inside a grotto dedicated to the goddesses. Beyond the moon pools, beyond the opal beach.” Syonia smiled. “An Oathborn such as yourself should have no difficulties with the journey.”
Was it just Zari’s imagination, or did the fae’s smirk grow at the last sentence? As if she might suspect that Zari wasn’t an Oathborn?
“That land is not considered our territory!” Tivre snapped. “The grotto rests too close to the cliffs. If—”
“If what, dear Tivre? If Zari was to see a Rhydonian, what might happen?”
Smugness dripped from her tone. Had she figured out Tivre’s con? Otherwise, what was Syonia implying? The hatred seemed to ooze from her, a complete disdain for both Zari and Tivre, just as her magic clung to her fingers. Only then did Zari realize that the magic was a familiar shade of purple.
The same as the smoke that Zari had now seen three times. Each time, it had heralded danger, even death. Yansin had suggested that smoke was part of a plan to break the Accords. Had Syonia been behind all those attacks?
Zari clenched her fists. She took one step forward. If her guess was correct, the blood of dozens of innocent Rhydonians stained Syonia’s hands.
