Page 96 of Oathborn
When she fell silent, Tivre considered that perhaps saying such a thing directly after offering his word to her was not his wisest choice. How could she know how rarely he offered such a thing, and how deeply he’d meant the promise?
Telling her was out of the question now, she’d never believe his sincerity.
As they approached Kirkton, the path they walked on widened into a cobblestone road. The town was even less modernized than Wesburg, in part due to how fickle such things as electricity was in the Gloaming. Of course, the fact that most of the town had been burned down multiple times during the war didn’t help with its overall economic health.
Zari turned her head, taking in the landscape around them.
“I assure you, there’s not much here in the way of cultural landmarks,” Tivre replied. “Kirkton’s only two-story building is also its only restaurant and its sole hotel. Multi-purpose, yes. Appealing to look at, no.”
“There’s something I’m looking for.”
Soon, she plunged off the path, away from the town. He followed her into a small thicket of trees. Some of the lilacs were blooming, offering bright pops of purple amid the green. Tivre was in the middle of smelling one bunch of the flowers when Zari gave a sharp gasp. Beyond her, he spied a simple cottage, clearly abandoned. Vines had crept over the door and no light shone in the small glass window.
“It looks like your mystery friend has—” Tivre paused. Something glimmered at the edge of his awareness, almost as faint as the scent of the lilacs.
Magic. Powerful magic the likes of which he had not sensed in years. He froze, closing his eyes and reaching out with his consciousness. The more he searched, the more the magic darted away from him. It felt like plunging his hand in a rapid stream, trying to catch a fish. Impossible, and yet so close to being in reach.
Raking his hand through his hair, he muttered a verbal spell, a perhaps reckless use of his magic. Whoever had woven this spell might not be a friend to him. In return, the magic he’d chased revealed itself in a roar. He staggered backward, gasping as wave after wave of power hit him, forcing him backward.
His breathing went ragged as he muttered a second spell to shield himself. Because this stranger’s magic would have killed him, had he wasted any more time. Even now, sweat dripped down his forehead from exertion. The glimmers hid a protective barrier, woven by a master mage. A protection spell, stronger than any he’d ever seen.
Yet… something was off about its inner workings. Tivre sat down in the grass, intrigued.
Zari was safe, as the spell only targeted fae with magic, and he was curious. It wasn’t often that magic surprised him. All the mages were gone, except for him. They’d fallen during the war, one by one, unable to weave spells strong enough to save themselves from bullets or bombs. Protection spells were not easy. Even Tivre had needed the aid of both Celene and Javenthal to weave the dome which protected the isles.
So who had crafted this massive barrier for such a ramshackle cottage? Thoughts of all else, even Zari, fled Tivre’s mind as he teased out the detailsof the spell. The sigils needed to be coaxed, like a shy horse, to show themselves. Or rather, how he thought a horsemightact. He’d always been more comfortable around magic than livestock.
These sigils refused to answer to him. They disobeyed his wishes, his commands, until finally, he realized they weren’t alive at all. Comparing them to a fish or a horse was pointless. The sigils were lifeless things, animated by a spell but no longer alive.
Which meant the mage was dead.
“Tivre!” Zari shouted. “Look!”
He lifted his head, doing his best to ignore the tears burning and caught a glimpse of eyes watching them from the shadows beyond the cottage.
“Someone’s here,” Zari said.
Chapter thirty-seven
Zari
The sight of the desolate cottage sent a wave of disappointment crashing over Zari. Had Yansin lied? There was surely no one who could help her here.
After spying a set of eyes blinking at her, she realized she was wrong. Someone was here. “Hello?” Zari called.
“Hello!” A tiny voice echoed back. The raspberry bush in front of them trembled and shook.
A second later, a child burst out. The girl had a mop of wild, dark hair and an impertinent nose. “Who you?” she demanded in broken Rhydonian, glaring up at Zari. “My house, not yours.”
This was who Yansin had sent her to find? A child. His child? The thought made her heart twist uncomfortably. Surely not. Yansin didn’t seem like the type to have neglected to share such an important fact. “Where are your parents, little one?”
“They’re all gone,” the girl replied. “Mama went away. Miss Maye said she’s in a better place, but that’s not true! Better is right here!”
“Who is Miss Maye?” Was that Yansin’s friend? “Where is she?”
“You’ve taken care of yourself, haven’t you, little one?” Tivre’s voice cut in. There was warmth in it, but a note of caution as well. “Found yourself berries and fresh water to drink?”
The girl’s purple eyes flicked in Tivre’s direction, before nodding. “Mama showed me.”
