Page 49 of Oathborn
“Yet you left the city, giving no excuse, nor reason as to why. None of your fellow nurses recalled you providing a reason for this trip. So tell me, why is it you are headed north?”
“I… I’m visiting a friend. In Kirkton.” That was the final destination of the train she’d been aboard, the northern-most town in all of Rhydonia, which sat only a mile or so from the fae cliffs.
“Who is this friend?”
“Why do you need to know?” Zari countered.
“The military here would be glad to allow a general’s daughter to send a message to her friend, informing them of her tardy arrival.” In the silence, Javen drummed his long fingers on the desk, the silver wedding band gleaming in the light. Whoever chose to marry such a cold-hearted man, Zari pitied. Javen cleared his throat. “I do not like being made to wait, Miss Ankmetta. Tell me the name of your friend.”
Her tongue clung to the roof of her mouth, a cottony taste making words impossible.
“Or does your friend reside further north?” Javen leaned forward, his piercing blue eyes locking with hers. “Perhaps… on the isles themselves?”
Zari glared at him but did not answer. No words would save her, not now.
“As you have decided not to speak, I shall do so for you,” Javen replied. His lofty tone made it sound as if she was a foolish child in need of reprimanding. “I have reason to believe you travel with a fae, Tivre, who is none other than the Queen’s most trusted advisor.”
Zari’s eyebrows furrowed. Tivre was mesmerized by folding beds and light switches. He was petty, vain, and more than a little obnoxious. Nothing about him suggested he held a lofty position with fae royalty. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“I did not take you for a liar.” Javen folded his arms. “Nor a fool, yet you seem to be both, for you’re wearing a glamour that carries the tell-tale marks of his magic.”
Javen could see magic? Zari found herself studying the officer, wondering just what he was hiding. After all, he’d known about silverbane too. He was tall, with a muscular build that the tightly-tailored uniform did nothing to hide, and perhaps would be considered handsome, if not for his disdainful scowl.
Zari dared to counter his words. “Maybe I should be asking you how you are acquainted with this Tivre you speak of? What does a Rhydonian officer know of the fae?”
Javen snorted in disdain. “You are not the one in power right now. I suggest you cooperate and provide the answers I need. Tell me, where is Tivre headed?”
She fought back the immense urge to knock over a pile of Javen’s perfectly organized papers. “Or what?”
“Or I’ll arrest you, I suppose.” Javen lit a cigarette and leaned back in the chair. “The jail here is empty, it could use an occupant.”
“I’ve done nothing wrong!” Zari’s heart rattled against her ribs. Javen never once raised his voice nor brandished any weapon, yet, his detached tone and imposing frame provided their own threats. “Nor has Tivre! I know the Accords. He hasn’t—”
“The Accords?” Javen scoffed. “I know them far betterthan you, girl.”
Her face flamed. He couldn’t be more than a handful of years older than her, and yet, he acted as if she was a child, as if she knew nothing. A sudden thought chilled her.Tivrelooked no older than her, and his glamour, when it had dyed his white hair brown, had looked just as human as her. Yansin, who needed no glamour to look human, was still half fae.
Captain Javen could have fae blood as well. But then… Why did he seem to hate them as much as he did?
The telephone on the desk rang, a sudden, jarring blare. Cigarette still firmly held between his lips, Javen answered the call. He held the receiver to one ear. “What is it?”
“Any luck in the hunt?” a static-filled voice replied. Zari’s eyes widened as she recognized the voice. The speaker was none other than Commander Lockwood. “What did the witness have to say?”
“The witness is now another dead end.” A mirthless chuckle escaped Javen. “In more ways than one.”
“Ah, Javen, Javen,” Lockwood scolded. “Letting your temper get the best of you?”
“If someone is fool enough to kill another man and blame it on Blood Ember, they do not deserve a trial. Death is its own just reward.”
Zari’s stomach roiled. Javen had killed a man, and admitted it to a superior officer without any concern of court-martial.
Lockwood’s laugh crackled over the line. “You never change, do you?”
“Not where that monster is concerned.” This time, Javen’s icy blue eyes met Zari’s. He knew she could overhear the conversation, she realized. “I will speak to you later. I have a matter to settle here first.”
“Oh?” Lockwood asked. The way that single word was said brought back dozens of memories of Zari’s father and Lockwood conversing. Did any of that warmth toward her father remain? What if she shouted loud enough for him to hear? “What sort of matter?”
Zari wet her lips, weighing her odds of calling for help. She had no idea how far away Lockwood was, or if he’d even care about her. Garrick had diedyears ago, rendering any connection she had with the Lockwood family null and void.
