Page 101 of Oathborn
Tobias blushed profusely.
Shestudied him for a long moment. “I see. You’re enspelled to hear but not speak. I’m not surprised. He can’t do everything Tivre can, that’s for sure. So. Fine. Listen to me, soldier. I need to speak to Javen. I need him to help me keep the Accords.”
“Ashali.” Tobias said. Peace. He knew that word. “Ashali nyel… tayesh?”
Peace no go. A terrible, juvenile way of building a question, and he wasn’t even sure if fae used a curving up tone at the end of their questions like Rhydonians did.
Her pink lips, which he had to admit looked very kissable, pressed into a tight line. “Yes. The peace is in danger of going. You should know that. If you had died, if Daeden had killed you—it would have broken the Accords! No Oathborn can kill a human, and no human can kill an innocent fae! Don’t you know that?”
No, he didn’t. Those clauses, he dimly remembered, were tucked into the Accords, but so was much else, about land rights and movement restrictions and ten thousand other qualities. Tobias opened his mouth, so desperately wanting to talk to her, to understand, but he didn’t have the words.
Still, her eyes found his, as if she knew. “You want peace, too, don’t you? You’re like me. You’d fight to keep everyone safe.”
He nodded, once. Was it treason, to agree with a fae, even if she wanted peace?
“So take me to—”
Tobias shook his head. In stumbling, broken words, he managed something close to explaining that he couldn’t, that she wouldn’t be safe, that Lockwood was here, and that man hunted her kind. He tried to recall a fae word for red, for crimson, anything to describe the elite task force trained to kill fae. Finally, he remembered the word for blood, which was at least the correct color, and ran his finger down the stripe on his own uniform, saying it, “Vah.”
Blood. It was all he could think of. Blood red stripes on a uniform, heralding danger to any fae alive.
“Oh!” Her eyes widened. “Tell Javen that…” She shook her head, blonde strands fluttering wildly.
Already in awe of her, he admired her more, the longer they spoke. Her actions were so dynamic, so bold. She took up the space around her with such confidence, as if she was afraid of nothing. Like sunlight itself, she seemed indomitable. “What?” he asked. “Tell?” Tobias’s lips thinned in frustration at his childlike language skills. If only she spoke Rhydonian.
“There are a hundred things I’d like to tell him. I am afraid none would do any good. Most might jeopardize your safety, now that I think about it. After all, you’re like my cousin. He’s a soldier too, and he has his own duties that I must not interfere with.”
If her cousin was a soldier, would Tobias one day be forced to draw arms against him?
“Yet, I often end up interfering more than I should.” She smiled a bit more ruefully. “I am reckless and dreadfully bold at times.”
Tobias shook his head, wishing he could tell her there was nothing dreadful about her at all. “Strong,” he whispered. “You are strong and true.” Two words he’d learned, a basic verb construction. Pointless, petty words that did not do justice to her actions.
She beamed at him as if he’d written her a sonnet. “Thank you. I’ll find another way.” She took his hand in her own and squeezed it tight. “Thank you. Travel well. May we meet again under better stars and a kinder moon.”
Only halfway back to the cabin, Tobias spotted Javen, or rather the light of Javen’s cigarette and the fire of his blue eyes. They were burning again like they had that night. “You were successful?” Javen asked.
Tobias nodded, his own head still spinning. He couldn’t tell Javen about the woman, but he knew he needed to relay what he’d overheard. “Yes. It was as you said. By the cliffs. A man—fae? Male?” he tried out each word.
“Say man if you must. It matters notto me.”
“—Named Daeden came to meet two fae, both in black tunics.” At that sentence, Javen rolled his eyes, as if there was nothing interesting at all about what Tobias had to report. Why was it so damned hard to impress the captain? Still, he continued, though he found himself stumbling over the next part. “There was a woman and a man? But sir, may I ask what the fae word for—”
“There are over a dozen words for gender in the language,” he replied, cutting him off. “Your clumsy translation is serviceable. Now, continue.”
“The man had dark hair and was quite tall. He—”
“How tall? Who was with him?” Javen’s voice took on an edge. As if answering to his sudden flare of anger, that fire ignited once more, racing from his fingertips up his arms.
“Uh, a woman. She had blue hair.” Tobias stammered out a response, more certain than ever he shouldn’t mention the other fae woman he’d spoken to. The way Javen had reacted was enough to make him cautious, if not completely regretful of undertaking the assignment. The man was onfire, after all.
The flames faded with a curl of Javen’s fingers. “Cassam, then, with Rosala. No one of any concern.” He knew them by name. Tobias shouldn’t have been surprised, and yet, he still was.
The magic, the spells, the information parceled out in the smallest pieces. Every bit, every hour spent with him, made Tobias feel more and more certain he was in over his head. Still, he ignored that siren call of the business card in his pocket, refused to consider contacting whoever it was in the Capital who wanted more information on Javen. After all, strange as he was, he was Tobais’s commanding officer. He owed him his loyalty until proven otherwise. Tobias asked, “Was there someone else you were expecting?”
He exhaled a thin stream of smoke through teeth that Tobias could have sworn looked far too sharp. “There is one Oathborn I could not easily best.”
The arrogance astounded Tobias. One Oathborn had killed over a dozen Crimsons, and here was Javen, acting like he could take down multiple fae at once. “Oh, only one? Then where the hells were you when Erik and the others were slaughtered?”
