Page 51 of Oathborn
Of all the people she might see, Zari never expected Yansin to have come to her rescue. She found herself intrigued, as well as a bit relieved it hadn’t been Tivre who saved her. “What are you doing here?”
“Presumably, the same thing as you. Avoiding law enforcement.” Sidestepping around the still-outstretched blade, Yansin drew closer. He cupped her cheek with a hand, his thumb smoothing over her skin, as if checking to make sure she was alright. “Shall we abscond together?”
Whatever questions she had could wait until they were both safe. Clumsily, she sheathed the sword between her shoulders. He gestured toward the back of the alley and she nodded. They started to run.
Zari pumped her legs hard, fighting to keep up with Yansin’s speed. Her skirt hampered her stride, but still, she ran, jaw clenched, determined to keep up. She kept her gaze ahead, though she’d noticed the way his trousers clung to the curve of his backside, and found herself blushing.
They turned a sharp corner—and ran straight into the line of sight of two patrolling soldiers. One shouted, raising his pistol. Yansin cursed, yanking her sideways.
They darted behind the nearest wall just as a shot cracked through the night air. Zari’s breath caught. It was one thing for them to escort her back to the train, another for them to actually shoot at her.
She needed a plan, fast. She’d never been to Wesburg, but she knew one building located here, and knew it would be unoccupied. Breathlessly, she told Yansin, “There’s an abandoned mansion, past the town, near the woods. Should make a safe place to hide.”
“Go there. I’ll lead them in the opposite direction.”
She’d only just found Yansin, and now he wanted to leave her? “We could stick together.”
“Too dangerous.” He shook his head. “Go! I’ll meet up when I can.”
Before she could object, he pulled himself up onto the fire escape. Swiftly, he scaled the wall. Atop the roof, he winked at Zari before he sprinted toward where they’d last seen the soldiers.
With only one glance back, Zari ran, hoping her route would be as direct as possible to the mansion. All she knew of its location were conversations from a lifetime ago. Years ago, Garrick Lockwood had told her about his father’s hunting lodge in Wesburg. He’d described the massive stone structure, the iron fence surrounding it, and embellished the tales with additions of mythical beasts living in the woods behind the lodge. One of his stories mentioned that the town’s old well was only a little ways from the house. So she just had to find the well and then, hopefully, the lodge.
Zari kept running through the residential part of the town, past stores shuttered for the night and quiet homes. Finally, she caught a glimpse of an old stone well. The abandoned mansion loomed up ahead, a dark shadow ringed by a vine-covered iron fence, bearing the familiar emblem of a snarling wolf and eagle locked in combat. A lifetime ago, she been given a ring embossed with that same family crest.
By the time she reached the gate, her blouse was drenched with sweat, and her feet ached. She leaned against the fence, panting. A massive, rusted lock hung from the center of the gate, and refused to budge, even when she pushed against it.
“It’s an easy climb.” Yansin’s soft voice came from the other side.
Relief swept through Zari. “You’re safe!”
“Indeed. Now, up and over,” Yansin said.
She looked up at the massive gate, calculating the best route.
Yansin, sounding close by, said, “Fastest way around is always straight through.”
It had been years since Zari last climbed a tree but she still remembered much of what she’d learned back then. Jaw set, she gripped the edge of the metal crest and planted one foot against the post. Her arms protested immediately, muscles burning with the effort, but she hauled herself upward.
With a grunt, and more determination than grace, she swung one leg over the top, then her skirt caught. She teetered for one heart-stopping moment, clutching at the post as the fabric tugged. A very undignified curse slipped out. Yanking hard, she heard a seam give with a loud rip, but she freed herself.
A second later, she landed on the other side with a soft thud and only minor damage to her pride. Strong hands spanned her waist, steadying her. She found herself leaning against Yansin a little longer than was perhaps necessary, finding comfort in his arms.
Ahead, the manor’s windows were all dark, and vines covered the red brick. “I know the family who owns this place. It should be empty,” she whispered, as if Lord Lockwood himself might hear her.
Except, Lord Lockwood was in the capital. He would have not come back here.
Not since Garrick died.
The lodge had been Garrick’s favorite place. Though it would have been far from her home, from her father and Annette’s company, Garrick had planned for Zari to live at the lodge with him, once they were married. Their fathers had brokered the deal, as was common for their aristocratic families, rightbefore Garrick had enlisted at sixteen. He swiftly made a name for himself as a skilled pilot. Stuck at home, unable to do anything but cut bandages, Zari had sent him a sweater she’d knitted, hoping it would keep him safe.
It hadn’t.
Not long after her father fell at Lochna, the newspapers reported another tragedy; The only son of Lord Lockwood had been killed, presumably by Blood Ember. The plane was empty when they found it, led by a bloody trail in the snow. Lord Lockwood had requested leave from the Crimsons for months, Zari had heard, to desperately search for his son. When he’d returned, it had been as a broken man. Given what she had observed of him in his dealings with Javen recently, Zari didn’t think anything was left of the man who had once been her father’s closest friend.
“Zari?” Yansin squeezed her hand gently. “Something wrong?”
She blinked, pulling herself back from her memories. “I… no. I’m alright.”
