11. Zari
Chapter eleven
Zari
S neaking Annette home had been easier than she’d expected. The servant side staircase was easily accessible to the house, so she’d brought her inside, laid her on a couch, and kissed her forehead. At dawn, Zari got up from her bed, and prepared to leave.
Better for her to depart like this, with a note saying she was headed north on a short trip, than for her to confuse her friend with half-truths and secrets.
Zari threw items in her largest purse, a change of clothes, a first aid kit, and her father’s letters, because she couldn’t imagine being too far from them.
Zari’s head spun with all that had occurred.
Annette, subject to an Oathborn’s curse.
Her own father, alive? And her, now, agreeing to travel with a fae, all the way to the isles.
Despite the fear churning within her, a small bit of excitement bubbled up.
She’d always been so curious about the fae as a child.
Now, she was to go to where they lived, to pretend to be one of them… And see her father again.
As she checked over her packing, she paused. Yansin would be here soon. They’d agreed to an early morning walk, after all. He was part fae, maybe he’d know more about how their magic worked and what it meant to have the Oathborn mark.
If he could offer any advice at all, it might be helpful. She decided to wait for him, before heading to the train station. Though Tivre had told her sunrise, the ticket in her hand suggested the train would not leave until nearly midday.
She didn’t have to wait long.
As he approached, walking down the sidewalk to the gated entry, Yansin moved slower, as if a burden had been placed on his shoulders. He wasn’t whistling, like he had been the last times he’d approached, and even his auburn hair, half-heartedly pulled back, seemed more disheveled.
“Yansin?” she called, as he turned toward the house.
Glancing up at her, his eyes went wide, as if surprised she was waiting for him. She said, fingers tightening around her purse like it was a lifeline. “I can’t go on our walk today. Things have… changed.”
“I would say so.” His gaze landed on her exposed wrist, and the Oathborn mark there.
“I need to talk to you.”
He shrugged out of his coat. “First, you should cover up. That mark on your arm… it won’t make your life easier.” He still held out his coat, though she made no move to take it.
“I’m not what you think. It’s not a real mark.” Only now did she fully grasp the danger of what she’d agreed to. Others would recognize the Oathborn mark; not all of them would be as kind as Yansin.
She couldn’t tell him the truth, not when she barely understood it herself. The night had turned everything inside out, and now the one person she most wanted to confide in was a man she barely knew. So she said nothing, and hated the silence between them all the more for it.
“Something tells me you didn’t receive that mark from a tattoo parlor of ill repute.” Yansin’s tone stayed light, but the humor didn’t reach his eyes. They held none of that glittering merriment which had so enchanted her last night.
“No.” Zari found herself rubbing at the mark, wishing it might flake off, or might prove last night’s events were a dream. “You’d think me mad if I told you the story.”
Yansin offered her his hand. “Why don’t we walk together to get a cup of coffee, and you can see if such a prediction will come true? ”
Her hand went to her pocket and she once more checked her father’s watch, to make sure she would have the time. A reminder that he might be alive, which meant her future, her home, all those things which had disappeared upon his death, could be returned.
If the fae was telling the truth.
Zari slid the watch away and took Yansin’s offered coat. He bent to carefully adjust the collar, allowing her the faintest hint of his aftershave, something minty and sharp, with a whisper of some spice she couldn’t recognize.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“Of course. Now, coffee?” he once more offered his hand, and this time, Zari took it. They walked together, down the sidewalk, and as they did, Zari began to talk.
“A fae came for my friend, Annette. She—she’s part fae. I had no idea. I didn’t realize how common…” She trailed off, remembering just who she spoke to.
“It’s true there’s more of us part-fae than the authorities would like to admit. Though less than there once was.” Yansin sighed. Again, she was caught off-guard by just how weary he seemed.
She hesitated. Part of her wanted to ask him the same question he’d once asked her.
What happened to you? Because something had changed, she could feel it.
In the way he stood, in the quiet ache behind his words.
So, carefully, she hedged her question. “I don’t mean to only talk about myself, Yansin. You seem troubled, too.”
“Do I?”
“Mm,” she nodded. “Did you not sleep well?”
“Ah, no. I’m afraid not at all.”
“Hence the request for coffee?”
That finally earned her a smile, though it was a softer, more muted version of the grin which had so enchanted her last night. “Indeed. So, we shall have coffee for my woes, and as for yours, you’ve yet to tell me the rest of the story. Your friend, Annette, must be a wildling then, like me. ”
In stories, a wildling was a child with fae blood, fitting in nowhere, full of mischief.
She’d not thought to compare Annette to that folklore, but now that she did, it made sense.
Annette was always getting into trouble, struggling to sit still and stay indoors.
She often escaped her governess to find Zari and convince her to race horses or climb trees.
Not only that, but Annette had that luck, that strange ability to guess right so often, and always seemed to land on her feet in a fall.
A thought rose to Zari’s mind, and she dared to ask it, figuring Yansin would know better than most. “If it’s not rude to ask, can part-fae do magic? ”
He tilted his head, clearly weighing both her question and his answer.
“I cannot speak for all with fae blood. I daresay not even most full fae would be able to, this far south. It’s said magic fades the further one travels from the isles.
” An intensity cut into his voice, like a warning.
“Which means for one to be able to conjure anything, here in the capital, they would have to be a powerful mage indeed.”
“I understand.”
“Do you?” He arched one auburn brow. “Zari, if you break a deal with a fae, your life could be forfeit. What exactly did you promise?
“I said I would go to the isles, in her place, and pretend to be the Oathborn one they were looking for. It’s just a mark, I didn’t think…”
“It’s not just a birthmark. It’s a sign of magic that some fae, or in the case of your friend, part-fae, are born with. I don’t see how this plan is going to work.”
“It will. He promised. The fae gave me a train ticket and told me to meet him. The train leaves this morning.” She bit her bottom lip, locking away any mention of her father. Hope was such a fragile thing. It felt as if she spoke aloud about his survival, she’d realize it was impossible.
“Oh, Zari…” Yansin murmured, his voice thick with something that made her chest tighten.
Suddenly, he pulled her into his arms. Her cheek pressed against the warm skin of his chest, separated only by the thinnest layer of cotton.
She could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath it, as he ti ghtened his hold, like he wasn’t sure when he’d get the chance again.
“It’s going to be a dangerous journey,” he whispered. “And I’m afraid for you.”
“I’ll be safe.” Closing her eyes, Zari breathed in, wishing this moment could last forever. Even his scent was comforting to her, mint and smoke and the hint of a spiced soap. “It is for the right reasons that I am going.”
“As are many quests, though their worthiness does not decrease the danger.” He stepped back, once more looking at her with tender eyes. A deep conflict seemed to war within him, as if there were words he was holding back, something he was desperate to tell her, but couldn’t.
They barely knew each other. After a fire-forged first meeting and a wonderful date, what were they to each other, after all?
Zari bit her lip, rocking on her heels. “I’ll be back soon.
” She told herself that was implied in Tivre’s words, that there was no reason for him to need a false Oathborn on the isles for long. “When I return… could we meet again?”
Yansin turned away. “You should get to the station. You don’t want to miss your train.”
“But—” she’d asked a question and he’d ignored it. The coffee, too, seemed all but forgotten. “Won’t I see you again?”
“No.” He stared out to the sun, rising in the distance. “I do not think you will.”