Page 1 of Oathborn
Prologue
“Go! Maqui, run! You must—”
Her comrade’s warning died on his lips as he collapsed. Dropping to her knees, Maqui fumbled to find his pulse beneath his bloodstained leather armor. “I am so sorry.” She cursed herself for being too slow. Her arrow had flown true, embedding into the sniper’s heart, but it was too late. Another immortal fae life taken by a merciless human.
Once more, the fae would be forced to retreat.
In over a thousand years of life, Maqui fought many battles. Her first kill had been when dragons still flew overhead and armored knights clashed. In those days, no threat, from dragons to humans, stood a chance against Oathborn warriors like herself.
But that was before.
Before the humans invented engines and explosives.
Before they developed long-range artillery and perfected their firearms.
Before the ceaseless rumble of motorized vehicles and the deafening roar of bomber planes.
Now, fae fell to bullets and bombs as the endless war dragged on, all over a strip of disputed land. Blood had stained the soil for decades and still, neither side yielded. The humans dug trenches, stretched out vast coils of barbed wire and planted land mines. The fae, especially those like her with Oathborn magic, fought as they always had, with blade and arrow and magic.
It wasn’t enough. For the first time in history, they were outmatched by the humans. Their snipers hid too far for any arrows to reach, their trenchesprovided too much coverage against any blade and their aircraft dropped bombs more deadly than any dragonfire.
Still, Maqui and the other Oathborn fought, as the Oath beat on, as incessant as war itself, in their veins. The Queen’s orders bound them.Fight without ceasing. Offer no mercy to humans. Take no prisoners.
“Maqui!” Tivre yelled.
She turned, eyes landing on his weary appearance, the mud and blood streaked through his white hair, his tattered green tunic. “Get back to the tent!” she shouted.
He shook his head, dropping to the side of her fallen comrade. “I think I can save him.”
No. Not while there were still more snipers hidden past this stretch of no-man’s-land. “Go!”
The Queen’s orders rang in her mind, a relentless din of reminders of Oaths and obligations.One roared loudest, drowning out any rational thought.
Protect Tivre above all others.
Even without the Queen’s command, Maqui certainly would have protected him.
But with the Oath’s magic, she was compelled to prioritize Tivre to the point of abandoning fallen comrades. Even if he didn’t want to be saved. Her hand closed around his wrist.
Tivre shook her off. His magic, sparking like embers, danced on his fingertips as he struggled to heal the dying fae. “Another minute,” he pleaded.
Ahead, a human soldier rose up from the nearest trench, screaming out a curse. His metal helmet was dinged, his khaki uniform ripped to shreds from barbed wire, his hand trembling as he aimed his pistol.
He was too slow. Maqui charged, her sword swinging. As head and body fell to the ground, thick red blood seeped into the dirt. Red blood. The same color blood on her hands and Tivre’s. Fae and human bled the same, for all their other differences.
The fae had magic. The humans had machines. Neither had mercy.
Maqui wiped the blood from her blade. “We need to retreat.”
Now. Before her Oath broke.
“I can save him. I know I can.” Tivre’s green eyes were wide with a pleading innocence she hadn’t seen in them for years. For a moment, he looked like the boy he’d been, full of reckless curiosity, not the battle-weary mage. He was barely older than her own son, yet war had stolen his youth, carved the softness from his voice, the joy from his laughter.
Was this the fate that would befall Maqui’s son, who practiced diligently, awaiting his first battle? Or would Daeden fall swiftly, another victim of Rhydonian bullets?
Enough. Protect Tivre.The Oath tightened its hold.
She was not permitted to question the Queen, to doubt the war’s importance. Even her momentary doubt left her heart racing, her head pounding with thewrongnessof potential disobedience.
