Page 58 of Oathborn
In other words, he’d been a stowaway. All the same, the idea of traveling with Yansin made the road ahead feel far less impossible. “Thank you. We should probably search the house for supplies before we leave.”
“Ah, but won’t the illustrious owner be looking for his tins of olives and rather hideous blankets, if they go missing?”
“Lockwood won’t come back here.” Zari looked around, imagining the grief that must be within these walls. “His son, Garrick, lovedthis manor, but Garrick was killed by Blood Ember. I’ve no doubt Lockwood never wishes to see this place again.”
“Were you close to the Lockwoods?” Caution colored his voice, which made sense. She’d just revealed personal information about a very powerful politician.
“I…” She blinked twice. Hated saying it, hated remembering those days when her life had such a different path. “Yes. I grew up with his son.”
Yansin’s expression softened. She held up a hand, stopping his words. “It was a long time ago, and I’ve done my share of grieving.” For her father, for Garrick, and for the life she’d thought she’d live.
Yansin embraced her, pulling her in close to him, letting her head rest against his heart. Zari took one long breath and let it out in a shuddering exhale. Then, another, this one, a little less ragged. With each one, Yansin rubbed her back gently. “I know the ache of grief never leaves. It just fades, like an old scar.”
Face pressed against his chest, Zari nodded. She had grieved Garrick and the hope he’d rescue her from the relations that descended like vultures on her father’s fortune, but Blood Ember had destroyed that last dream of hers, too.Blood Ember, Blood Ember, burns bright and bloody.The childhood song echoed, reminding her of what Javen had said.
Her fingers tightened, clenching Yansin’s shirt. “I’ve heard rumors that… that the monster has returned. That Blood Ember is once more killing humans.”
The kitchen had no windows, for which she was rather glad. It was too easy to imagine the monster breaking through a window and hunting them down. Superstitions echoed in her mind.Don’t stay in the woods overnight, or Blood Ember will come. Keep a fire burning, or Blood Ember will slit your throat. Put salt around your tent, or Blood Ember’s claws will tear you to shreds.
“Surely nothing more than a rumor.” Yansin’s arms tightened around her, as if to protect her from the mere mention of the beast. “Blood Ember took the ones I loved from me, as well.”
“I am sorry for your loss,” she whispered. “That monster… I hope it died the most painful death possible for all the grief it has caused.”
Yansin brushed a kiss over the top of her head in a gesture she wasn’t sure held romance or simple tenderness. It made her heart skip, regardless. “Find a room to rest in. I’ll keep watch down here and find you if there’s trouble.”
Carrying a candle for light, Zari walked carefully to the second floor. She passed by room after room, each one empty with beds still made and fireplaces still stocked with lumber.
When she opened one door, she found a large room, full of fine oak furniture. A quilt lay over the bed, one she’d given Garrick. The clothes still hanging on brass hooks were familiar too. He’d always dressed in shades of forest green and dark brown and hated wearing any shoes more formal than his riding boots. A writing desk sat close to the open door, a messy set of papers still strewn over it. With a trembling hand, Zari rifled through them, finding names she knew well on each envelope. Annette, Garrick’s cousins, his father… and lastly, her own name.
Did she dare? What message would the dead have for her?
Zari,it began.If you receive this letter, it is because I have not come home. My mission north has failed. Do not grieve me.
She set the letter down. So few words, and none that offered any comfort.
Sleep would not come to her, not here. Still, she walked further into the room, and took the clothes from the hook, two heavy sweaters, a set of trousers, and an overcoat. Garrick had been tall, hadn’t he? She found herself unable to remember. The sweater and trousers would still fit her, if she cuffed the sleeves and rolled the legs. As for the overcoat, she owed one to Yansin, given how rough she’d been on his borrowed jacket.
From another room, she took a woolen blanket off the bed and draped it over her shoulders like a cloak. The spare set of clothes she tucked into apillowcase, along with some basic supplies from a washroom; soap, a comb, a towel.
Returning downstairs, she found Yansin sitting on the floor in the parlor, his back to the billiards table. A few candles flickered on the floor, illuminating the otherwise dark room. Heavy drapes covered all the windows, making it impossible to see any of the titles of the books on the far shelves. Had Garrick ever read a book? She’d often recommended titles to him. He’d laughed and called them silly trifles for lesser minds than his.
Yansin seemed deep in thought. A cigarette hung between his lips, but as soon as he noticed Zari in the doorway, he squashed it in a nearby ashtray. Garrick had started smoking cigars the last time Zari had seen him, and she’d chided him too, though he’d just laughed at her and told her that as an officer’s wife, she’d have to get used to the smell.
“I brought you a coat,” she said, feeling suddenly awkward as she stood there, dressed in too-large clothes, with her hair a messy tangle. “Since I ruined yours.”
“I didn’t notice any signs of ruin, but thank you for the replacement, all the same.”
“I can’t sleep up there,” Zari admitted. “It feels haunted, too full of the past.”
Yansin patted the floor by his side. “Stay here, and I will do my best to keep the ghosts away.”
She sat, close enough that she was aware of his every breath. He seemed just as tired as she felt. Shyly, she extended her arm to wrap them both in the blanket. Eyes widening, he slipped his arm around her waist, tucking her closer. A calmness enveloped her, a mixture of the lingering smoke, the earthy scent of the lanolin, and a note of pine that must be whatever soap Yansin had used.
“You’re upset,” Yansin said, softly. “What’s wrong?”
“You mean apart from being on the run and far from home?” Zari tried for a lightness she didn’t feel. “Nothing. I suppose just… thinking of someone I lost.”
“Lord Lockwood’s son?”
