Page 14 of Oathborn
She’d seen artists’ renderings, though, of looming figures, almost eight feet tall with claw-like nails and viper’s fangs. If one was in the city, how long would it be before more humans died?
“Perhaps it was a diversion.” Lockwood’s voice turned pensive. “Have the Accords broken at last?”
“I would know if they had. That attack was not by an Oathborn.”
How would one man know if the Accords had broken, when they were a written peace treaty? Strange. Zari found herself chewing on her bottom lip, confused and intrigued by the discussion.
“All the same, Javen, I am disappointed that you didn’t arrive sooner.”
“Do not think I am your trained hound.” Javen snapped.
“Ah… but aren’t you?” Lockwood paused. The smell of cigar smoke filtered into the washroom. “Don’t you know the old story about the first dogs? Once upon a time, a wolf gave birth to a litter, and the last pup was the first to rebel against his kind. He grew up as a sheepdog, intent on protecting what his bloodline was raised to hunt.”
Captain Javen snorted, clearly unamused.
Zari, though, felt unnerved and worried about how she’d leave the washroom without running afoul of the men. Though her first instinct was to square her shoulders and march outside, doing so would only catchLockwood’s attention. So, eyes downcast, she slipped outside the little alcove, leaving the door open behind her.
“I was unaware we had company,” Lockwood said.
Zari’s pulse raced, but she continued looking down at the old wooden floor. “My apologies, sir, I was washing up and—”
“And you didn’t think to announce your presence?” That was Captain Javen’s voice. “How much did you hear, girl?”
“Leave her be,” Lockwood barely glanced her way. “What would you do, arrest her for washing her hands?”
Despite her best attempts at staying silent, something like a gasp escaped her lips. He wouldn’t… would he?
“See?” Lockwood said. “Poor thing sounds like a mouse. What harm can a mere girl do?”
“In my experience,” Captain Javen said, inclining his head to look directly at her. His cold blue eyes seemed to ignite with a bit of curiosity, or perhaps amusement, at her expense. “A woman is never more dangerous than when she is underestimated.”
Clumsily, Zari curtsied and spun toward the door. She closed it hard behind her, her heart pounding at the strange encounter.
Zari’s head swam as she made her final rounds of the night. She passed the memory unit, where veterans, still haunted by battles, called out in agony. Next was the set of rooms they’d used for amputations and prosthetics, where doctors replaced limbs severed by fae blades. Only now did she wonder if the ointment they had used, which was kept in a locked case, contained silverbane.
Walking past the recuperation wing, Zari noticed someone had left a light on. Tobias lay prone on his cot, and Captain Javen sat in the chair next to him. His navy coat was draped over his shoulders, and his crisp white shirt strained against lean muscles as he lit a cigarette. The spark reflected against the goldof his wedding band. Zari wondered idly why he wasn’t home with his family. She also wondered how he’d stayed long past visiting hours. Having no desire to have yet another argument, she remained silent.
Tobias stirred. “You came back for me.”
“I did no such thing.” Captain Javen folded one leg over the other. “And I’m only here to avoid the paperwork at headquarters.”
“You love paperwork,” Tobias replied. “It’s your second favorite thing, right after target practice. Maybe third, because you also enjoy filing papers a bunch and—”
As she walked away, Zari smiled. The taciturn captain seemed to have the chattiest lieutenant as a direct report. Not only that, but he was quite a different man speaking to Tobias. Javen seemed softer, less stern, then he’d been addressing her, and far less cold than he’d been in dealing with Lockwood. Javen didn’t look much older than her, but perhaps he’d been through some horrible battles in the war, and the specter of the past returning brought back too many painful memories for him.
And as obnoxious as he’d been to deal with, it was his recommendation of silverbane which had saved all of the lives tonight.
That good humor faded as she pushed open the staff exit door. Her foot brushed over another line of salt. Outside, the fog had crept in, mixing with the smoggy smoke that lingered in the capital. Zari clung to the railing of the stairs, fearing she’d miss a step in her exhaustion.
She hadn’t used silverbane on Yansin. What would happen to him? To his wounds? She sucked in a breath, fighting her worries. There was nothing she could do, no easy way to find him.
She’d just have to hope he was alright, and that promise he’d made her wouldn’t become a lie.
Though the capital was far from the sea, the faintest hint of seawater’s tang brushed against her lips. Nights like this belonged to the fae, as the saying went. The type of weather that would have brought with it the dangers of Oathborn warriors, mysterious fae mages, and worst of all, the monster Blood Ember.
Surely, those were stories of the past.
Weren’t they?
