Page 118 of Oathborn
“Oh, Papa,” she whispered again, bowing her head to his chest. His heart thudded, slow, so slow, too slow to seem real. Tivre’s own heart had that same lazy pace. A fae’s heartbeat, he said, beat slowly. So was this fae magic. Keeping him alive? Or… keeping him asleep?
“I’m here,” she said. “I found you.”
Childhood memories flashed in her mind. Games of hide-and-seek in the gardens, bedtime stories and pancake breakfasts. He’d always been there for her. Even when he was far away, deployed or conducting business in the Capital, he’d written, left little riddles and notes behind for her, wrapped books up for her to read and discuss with him once he returned.
And he always came back.
Until that terrible day he didn’t.
The news came first. The coffin followed.
The grief, though, lingered, never ceasing, never healing.
Now, it swelled once more within her, melting into something more bittersweet than ever before. He was alive, and yet, he couldn’t speak to her, couldn’t laugh, couldn’t even look her way. But he was alive, which was more than she’d ever dreamed of.
“I have had the strangest journey to find you, Papa.” Just as she used to tell her tales to his statue, she spoke to his sleeping body. Of the deal she made with Tivre, of the train, and the subsequent travels after. Of little Ashali and the terrifying plane ride down to the beach. She told him all the wonders of the magic she’d seen, and the terrors as well. Blushing, she even told him a bit about Yansin, about his kindness and the comfort she’d felt around him, despite his theft of the sword.
Her words soon gave out. No amount of talking would cover the decade she’d spent without him. Her throat burned with sobs she held back, for some small, irrational part of her hoped he would wake as she’d talked. He slumbered on, unaware she was here, unaware of all she’d been through to reach him.
“I came to bring you back,” she told him, fingers running over his clenched fist, willing it to open, desperate for any small hint he heard her, even lost in dreams. “I came to rescue you.”
She’d failed. Yansin’s warning echoed in her mind. He’d been right. Fae magic always broke a human’s heart, in the end.
On trembling legs, she forced herself to stand.
“My Zarilee.” A voice, so faint and trembling she barely heard it, came from behind her. She spun, returning to her father’s side.
His eyes were still closed, but his hand, which she’d held so tightly, reached out the slightest bit. Weathered, scarred fingers shook and trembled. “My sweet girl,” he whispered. “I… love…”
“I love you, Papa.” Her words came out as a sob as she fell down, clutching that hand, feeling him tighten his hold on hers. It lasted for the briefest moment, the smallest, most wonderful second, where she knew he was aware of her, that he’d heard her, and that he was alive.
A small exhale of breath came from his lips. No further words. His hand went slack once more. The magical sleep pulled him back into its depths, away from her. But he was alive.
Her journey had not been in vain.
Her father, her rock, her only family, was still alive.
Zari kissed the back of his hand, her eyes burning. “I love you. I’m going to find a way to wake you. I promise.”
For now, she had to leave. Tivre told her it was dangerous to linger, and surely, she’d spent too much time already.
She bent to kiss her father’s brow, then turned and pushed the door open. Only after it swung back into the hall did she realize how easily Tivre couldhave locked her inside. Only after that thought occurred did she realize how little she trusted him.
The damned fae was standing there, arms folded, watching her. How much had Tivre heard? How little had he cared? Tears still caught in her eyes, Zari lifted her chin to glare at him. “You liar. You never told me—”
“To be a liar,” Tivre responded, “would it not have required me totellthe aforementioned lie?”
“How long has he been asleep?”
Tivre lifted one shoulder in an easy shrug. “Seven? Eight years? Maybe more.”
“Was he ever awake?”
“Presumably, yes, as he fathered you and did all sorts of—”
“Once he was brought to the isles, Tivre. When was the last time he was awake?”
Tivre’s bright green eyes slid away from hers, looking instead at the wall behind her.
