Page 71 of Oathborn
“Tivre’s magic is always green,” she said. “And Hazelle’s is pink. Does each fae have a color for their magic?” Puzzle pieces clicked together, assembling something that terrified her.
Yansin nodded, just once.
“So if that smoke is magic, and if it’s purple, just like it was in the capital… then there’s a pretty good chance it’s the same fae casting the spell?”
He didn’t answer, but the sharp look in his eyes told her that she’d guessed right.
“But why? The Accords. Shouldn’t they keep us safe?”
Yansin took a deep, steadying breath. “As I understand them, the Accords, like all fae things, have loopholes.”
“It wasn’t just the fae! My father would have never—”
“Your father?” he asked, his voice sharpening. An echo of that earlier Yansin, the one who had fought so ferociously, reappeared. “What do you mean?”
She’d never told him that her father was General Ankmetta, the man who had led the Rhydonian forces until his death. How would Yansin, a deserter, feel about that? Did she have any choice but to tell him? “He…” she began, “he was the leader of the Rhydonian delegation that signed the document.”
“I was unaware it was a delegation,” Yansin replied. “I was told the signing parties were quite small, hence the need for Rhydonia to vote on it. Because General Ankmetta was—”
“My father,” she finishedfor him.
The knot in her chest twisted tighter as Yansin’s expression closed off. “That explains a great deal about why the fae told you he was alive.”
Zari’s mouth tasted like ash, as if the smoke had crept into her very lungs. What he’d said,the fae told you, implied that it wasn’t true. Worse, that made far more sense than believing in a miracle. Still. Tivre had her father’s pocket watch. He’d give her his word. “The Accords,” she pressed the issue. “They said that no fae will kill a human.”
“No Oathborn fae,” Yansin corrected, a strange heaviness in his tone. “That wording would allow other fae to do as they wish.”
“If that’s the case, why would my father, why would any Rhydonian, sign it?”
Yansin closed his eyes. “Who wouldn’t be desperate for peace by then, desperate enough to take any truce, no matter how flimsy. Anything to stem the tide of bloodshed and loss. Whoever is behind this smoke wants the Accords to break. They are seeking to cause confusion, panic, and hatred. All things that bring about violence.”
She thought back to the men dead on the steps, the agony of those in the hospital, who would have perished if not for the silverbane. “The smoke is fanning the flames of war,” she said. “Giving Rhydonia a reason to attack.”
“Exactly.” He picked up Zari’s sword, looking down at his reflection in the gleaming blade. “The Accords are fragile. If a human kills a fae, and acts out of self-interest, not self-defense, the peace will shatter forever.”
“What if it’s a half-fae who dies?” Even saying the thought made a lump form in her throat.
“I do not know the answer to that, nor do I wish to.” His eyes held none of the usual warmth, only grief. “I fear that the longer I journey with you, the more you will become a target. I will not endanger you,” Yansin said. The words that followed left her chilled. “Not more than I already have.”
Chapter twenty-seven
Zari
The journey took on a grim tone, though Yansin tried to lighten the mood with little songs, or funny stories about his coworkers at the printing press. No matter what he said, it could not take away the fear that had curled around her heart. The smoke had nearly killed her. If Yansin hadn’t had that silverbane… she shivered.
“Do you need this coat as well?” Yansin asked, gesturing at the one he wore.
She shook her head. “No. I’m just… still thinking about the sword, how I lost control of it. As if it had a mind of its own.”
Yansin shook his head. “Fae blades are far from sentient, at least, most of them.”
“Most?”
“The Crescent Blade,” he said, and she recalled the tales he’d spun about the silver sword, allegedly forged from moonlight itself. “It’s said to have a will, a voice even, and guides those who it chooses to do its bidding.”
“Why do I have a terrible feeling that its will has nothing to do with peace and prosperity to Rhydonians?”
“You already understand the core of most fae stories. You’re ready to be a bard.”
