Page 136 of Oathborn
“I’m so glad you asked! Let’s head to the dining hall next, or the berry garden, or, oh! Perhaps the library!”
Hazelle kept her moving at a very undignified sprint, details whirling past like the colors on a pinwheel. Exhaustion still pulled at Zari, and her feet felt like lead as they walked over thick carpets and down long halls. Unlike the Queen’s palace, bright paintings hung on most walls, and sunlight filtered in through narrow glass windows. Color and light abounded everywhere she looked, yet, a chill remained. Every room they passed was empty, skeletal furniture gathering dust.
“Where is everyone?” Zari asked, craning her neck to peer down another empty hall.
“They’re gone,” Hazelle replied. “Returned to ash and sea.”
Thousands of Rhydonian men had died in the war, leaving towns and cities empty, too, but not like this. A lump in her throat, Zari forced herself to ask, “Did they fall in combat?”
Hazelle nodded. “Our numbers were never great, not like mortals. We could not rebuild as fast as it appears Rhydonia did, for the cities I saw were so vast, so full of life.”
The only two places Hazelle had seen on this journey were Kirkton and Wesburg, both small towns by any reckoning in Rhydonia. What would she think if she’d come to the capital, with its population in the millions?
“So there’s no one left here?” Zari asked.
“We still have crofters. Those who live out further on this isle, and fish or farm, then come back to the castle to shelter during the winter. A few live here year round, and tend to the kitchens or the garden. Though,” she said with a sad smile, “nowadays, everyone helps with the autumn apple harvest. We need all the help we can get.”
“Your isle is big enough to have farms?”
She nodded. “Fowl and larger game, too. All four of the Cardinal Isles are. The South Star once was home to nearly a thousand fae. Now, I believe we number fewer than ninety. I’ll take you on a tour of the lands further afield than here tomorrow. Do not go exploring by yourself, for the land past the orchard is still home to beasts of prey like Iolar hawks and a few of the silver-wolves.”
Neither sounded like an animal she wished to meet. “Is there anything on these isles that won’t kill me?”
“Me, of course,” Hazelle grinned.
Her joking answer held an uncomfortable truth. “A short list, indeed, for even Tivre is left off it.”
Hazelle tilted her head, studying Zari. “How do you feel about Tivre?”
“Currently, I am torn between being fond of him and wanting to push him into the sea,” Zari tried to joke, but Hazelle’s smile wavered. She’d said the wrong thing.
At the top of a long spiral staircase, they reached a hall lit with beautiful, swirling paintings of flowers. “Here’s my room, and Dae’s, and this…” Hazelle opened a door, “is your room!”
Zari peered in. A low bed with fluffy pillows and three blankets, a chest, and a wash basin with a mirror sat around the perimeter. Another shimmering tapestry fluttered through depictions of various birds. By the wash basin was a wooden chair, and a row of dresses hung on a high rack behind it. All of the furniture was ornately carved, with not a single inch left unadorned. Unfamiliar flowers in a crystal vase filled the room with their scent.
“Do you like it?” Hazelle nervously fidgeted with the vase. “I put a few of my shortest gowns there for you. We’ll have you fitted for your own clothes soon.”
“I… I don’t have any money,” she said. Hazelle blinked at her as if she’d said she couldn’t fly. Had Tivre’s translation spell stopped working? “I cannot buy anything.”
“You are a member of my family. Anything you require comes from me,” Hazelle smiled, sitting down in the chair.
After making sure the door was shut, Zari shook her head. “That’s too generous, Hazelle. You know that I am no real Oathborn, or even a fae at all.”
Hazelle shrugged. “It matters not to me.”
Or to me,the phantom voice added.
Unconsciously, Zari’s hand found the hilt of the sword, her fingers wrapping around it. Was it truly following the conversation? Had those stories of its sentience been true? Shivering, she pried her fingers away from the cold metal.
“This deception puts you, and Daeden in danger. I’m not who any of you think I am.”
Pursing her lips, as if Zari was a stubborn child she was arguing with, Hazelle said, “When I was a child, I used to pretend to be an Oathborn.”
“Why?”
“To belong.” The simple words took Zari by surprise. “Mother was busy with Stellaris duties. My aunt, Liyale, and Daeden, too, were all Oathborn.”
“What about Celene?” Zari was sure that Javen’s wife had not been Oathborn.
