Page 29 of Oathborn
A disguise. Or as the stories had called it, a glamour.
“So I will come with you to the isles, pretending to be this… this Oathborn you went looking for. And there, you will bring me to my father? While Annette remains safe here?”
He nodded. “You havemy word.”
“Your word as a fae?”
He laughed dryly. “No. My word as a man.”
“But you’re not human!” That term only belonged to mortals like her. Not the fae.
“What does that word even mean?” he retorted. “You Rhydonians throw it around so easily. A wolf and a dog share the same shape, the same hungers. When does a tamed wolf earn the title of dog? When is a beast trusted enough to become a pet? Surely, the mere existence of your dear Annette should make you question any alleged inhumanity in the fae. If a Rhydonian can bed a fae and become with child, then…”
Zari’s cheeks flamed. She’d read plenty of biology textbooks, but it was a far different thing to have marital relations mentioned so directly. “Have some dignity, sir.”
He laughed, a warm, low noise, before perching on the top of a broken pew bench. “Ah, I do think you will prove entertaining on our long trip north.”
“Are we walking?”
“No, we’re—”
At his smug smirk, Zari cut him off. “Don’t give me one of those sarcastic answers.”
He dug in a pocket to retrieve first an acorn, then a bundle of papers, then a bit of rolled-up wire. Frowning, he rustled in it until, finally, he withdrew a first-class cabin train ticket. “Meet you there after sunrise.”
She tucked the ticket into her purse. Then, she knelt and clumsily lifted Annette. “Let’s get you home, my friend,” she whispered.
Tivre stood there, violin tucked under his chin, bow gliding across the strings. The melody was soft and haunting, heavy with a sadness too deep for words. No strange lights glowed, nor was there any trace of fae magic, as far as Zari could tell. Instead the song was ordinary, and yet, heartbreaking, powerful enough to convey feelings no language could name.
Tivre called to her. “She will remember nothing, so best to tell her as littleas you can.”
The mournful tune trailed her, long after it should, the notes lingering like a bruise.
Chapter ten
Tobias
After Zari had stolen his motorbike, Tobias faced a dilemma. If he reported it missing, he’d alert the rest of the military to his idiotic failings. She’d probably reach the cathedral just a few minutes after Javen. If he didn’t, he was failing to report theft of military property.
Tobias decided to spend his time crafting an excuse for what had happened. He landed on the fact that Zari was clearly very worried about her friend, and he did the right thing byallowingher to take the motorbike. Surely, Captain Javen would have found her friend and calmed Zari down, and done whatever else was needed to save the day.
Meanwhile Tobias would sit, alone, useless, once more an utter failure.
Long minutes ticked by, and still, Javen didn’t return. This night was proving to be the longest of Tobias’s career. Once more he thought about radioing for help. But no. That would go against Javen’s other orders.
He replayed the conversation with the man who had given him his card, the one who had wanted information on Javen. Who seemed to think that the captain could be a security threat to the nation, if his veiled words were correct. Which only reminded Tobias of how little he knew about Javen.
Eventually, he got up and headed over to the desk that Javen had abandoned. Though he knew he shouldn’t, Tobias dared to move aside the notebooks covering the papers below.
What he found were maps, charts, and ledgers. Most detailing the usual facts from crimes, but a few that seemed written in the same symbols as ones from the fae dictionary. So Javen, then, was fluent in the language?
Was that the unusual detail that man had hinted at? Or simply a reason why Javen had been so successful in what must have been a relatively short career. Tobias returned to the desk. The newspaper clippings from the attack on the ceremony were there too, all of them pinned together like it had been a matter of study. And there, underneath the last stack, was a wooden box, about the same size as a case for cigars, but ornately carved from a dark wood Tobias couldn’t recognize.
If anything ever haddo not openinvisibly inscribed upon it, it would have been that box.
Still… he’d hear the door slam if Javen returned. He’d have enough time to cover up his snooping. Carefully, he unlatched the small silver clasp.
Inside lay a massive stone, cut with sharp facets that revealed dark blue depths like the sea before a storm. It was heavy and cold. Perhaps some sort of paperweight? Under it was a single piece of paper and a delicate silver bracelet, small enough that it surely wouldn’t fit an adult.
