Page 52 of Oathborn
“Alright enough to ignore my last three comments?” he asked teasingly. “They were absolute gems of conversation. Wise enough to be carved on stone tablets for all to see.”
“And what were they?”
“One was,” he tapped his chin in mock thought, “do you want to eat dinner?”
Her shoulder shook as she laughed, the grief of the past fading. Yansin had a way of doing that, as if his commitment to finding joy in the here and now drowned out any past pains. Perhaps it was a talent he had cultivated, for she’d begun to suspect he too carried his share of grief, as well as mystery.
At the door, Yansin knelt, taking a set of metal levers from a pocket, a lockpick’s tools, which he deployed with trained precision. Zari’s eyes widened. “I thought you worked for the newspaper.”
“Alas, that was a temporary job.” He kept his focus on the lock. “Not many places hire those suspected to be part fae, not even now. A petty thief’s skill is a little more universal.”
“You could have changed your name, surely, and they’d have no wayof—”
“I am awfully fond of my name, it’s true.” He cut her off with an apologetic smile as he pushed the door open. “But perhaps we can continue this conversation when our safety is slightly more assured?”
“It just surprised me.”
“And now you wonder if you can trust me?” He tilted his head, watching her. His hazel eyes, she realized now, held a bit of ethereal light, not as bright as a fae’s, but not entirely mortal, either. Maybe it wasn’t just his name that gave it away. “A fair question.”
“You do seem like a good man.”
“An honor I will do my best to live up to.”
They walked into the shadowy corridor of the manor. A thick layer of dust lay over the marble-tiled floor and the various antlers, animal heads, and other spoils of the hunt. It was clear to Zari the Lockwoods decorated this lodge much as they had their larger provincial home. The few times she’d visited Garrick there had always left her feeling uncomfortable, as if the Lockwoods only enjoyed nature if it could be shot, stuffed, and mounted, theirs to display as they wished. Garrick had bragged of even hunting down one of the last gold-winged falcons, a rarity in their province. She’d hidden her tears when he showed her the bird, which would have been beautiful in life, but now was a dull, dead thing, trapped forever on a bookshelf.
As they approached the kitchen, Yansin paused at a life-sized painting of three wolves tearing into a deer carcass.
“I see the owner took hunting seriously.” Yansin’s face had gone pale.
“You’re not a hunter yourself?”
“I don’t even eat meat, truth be told.”
“Really? I thought most men enjoyed the sport.” Zari’s father had often gone hunting with Lord Lockwood, but the only relic of his trips had been the bearskin rug in his study. Zari had once been caught trying to feed it cookies.
“I prefer far less bloody sports.”
The kitchen was the only room devoid of animal-related decorations. Instead, pots and pans hung on the walls with rows of long-forgotten cans andglass jars of food on shelves between them. A massive oak table took up the center of the room. Yansin set his bag down on the table. As it hit the surface, a cloud of dust spread up. Zari sneezed twice.
“Tides take you,” Yansin said, offhandedly, as he unpacked a small copper mug and a set of tinned food. It was a Karsici phrase, a shortening of the well-wish,May the tides take your bad luck and bring you better.
Zari smiled. “I’ve always loved that saying, though it’s been a long time since I’ve heard it.”
“Where’s home for you?” asked Yansin.
“My family estate was in Laurelaire, west of the capital.” Zari bit back a wince at her posh phrasing. But it was the truth. The Ankmetta family’s home included a sprawling lawn with its own lake and stables, a fine manor and a separate guest house. To clarify that she did not still live in such a wealthy world, she added, “When my father didn’t come home from the war, my relatives took over the estate.”
Some nights, she dreamed she’d never lost her house – imagined herself waking up in her old four-poster bed with a crackling fire in the hearth. If she was able to leave the isles with her father, was there a chance they’d be able to reclaim her home? Or would Javen ensure she was marked a traitor and hunted everywhere she went?
“The war changed many lives, and few for the better.”
“Including yours?” she asked. “I still don’t understand why you were on the run tonight, or… or why you didn’t tell me you were getting on my train.”
Yansin sighed. He rocked back on his heels, looking around, as if desperate to find something else to talk about. Not that there was, given their current location and circumstances. “Because it was a last-minute decision of mine, resulting in both no time to tell you, and no ticket to provide the authorities when they came calling.”
So he’d hopped the train, and snuck aboard as a stowaway. A risky choice. “Why?”
“I…” He looked down at his hands, as if he might avoid the question altogether. “I was worried about you, Zari, and the deal you told me you made with the fae. I wanted to find you on the train, find the fae too, and—”
