54. Zari
Chapter fifty-four
Zari
A soft breeze, carrying the scent of flowers, woke her. Moonlight flooded the room, illuminating it in soft, silvery shades. She pushed herself up to sit, marveling at how much better she already felt. The wounds no longer ached and even her ribs seemed completely healed.
Magic, she thought, with a strange thrill running down her spine.
Then, she caught sight of why the breeze woke her, and gasped. Her window was open, and Yansin himself was sitting on its ledge. His hazel eyes met hers, as he put a finger to his lips. She nodded. He slipped down, his feet landing silently on the floor, and moved across the room to lock her door.
Zari’s heart pounded. Had she been a fool to trust him? “How did you find me?”
“Yours is the only room not lit by sigil light,” he replied. “Easy to spot from outside.”
“But you know this castle?”
He nodded, just once, as he came to stand close to the bed. Her eyes raked over his body, over his lean, strong form, his confident stance, the easy way he wore the sword at his hip. Altogether, he seemed familiar, in a way she hadn’t expected.
Before she could think too hard, she shot out a hand and gripped his arm. Pushing the sleeve up, she held her breath until she saw unmarked skin, free of any crescent symbol. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, wincing at her sudden foolishness. “I thought you were…”
“And you thought correctly,” Yansin’s voice was soft, but firm. “At least, once upon a time.”
Her eyes widened. No. Surely not. He was Yansin, a half-human newspaper worker, not an Oathborn warrior. Except… except he was so capable, so skilled at survival, at tracking. Though, he’d said once upon a time .
“Your wrist. It’s unmarked.” Free of the same symbol that Zari’s own held. It was her last desperate hope that what he implied wasn’t true.
His thumb brushed over the skin. “I tried to burn it off when I was a boy, but it turns out the magic is more than skin deep.”
“You’re Oathborn,” she whispered, the title like an accusation.
“I was,” he replied. “Though I am not now.”
Her eyes flicked to the locked door, and she thought of how he’d fled before Daeden arrived. “You broke your Oath. How? When?”
“I told you before that I would have done anything for peace,” he said. “And that is all you need to know of my past. Any other questions would only endanger you further. I cannot stay on these isles any more than you can.”
For now, she was safe and her father was close, closer than she’d ever dreamed he would be. “Not without my father. He’s still trapped in the Queen’s dungeon.”
“I see.” Yansin sighed. “I was still a boy when I lost my mother. I would have gone to the ends of the world to save her. What if you can’t rescue him? Is that worth your life?”
“I don’t… I don’t know.” Zari bit her lip.
“I’m so sorry.” He stepped forward, but he made no move to reach for her. Instead, his hands hovered, uselessly, at his side.
“Hold me?” Her voice cracked under the weight of everything. Her father’s endangered state, her own strange status as a false Oathborn, and Yansin, revealed to be Oathbroken. With a soft sigh, he wrapped his arms around her, settling both of them on the bed. She kissed his cheek .
A sigh escaped his lips. He tucked a lock of dark hair behind her ear. “My brave warrior.”
His touch was so gentle, so delicate, and still, she shivered. Zari’s gaze swept over him, lingering on the soft concern in his gaze, the curve of his lips, the quiet strength of his lean, muscular body, and found there was nothing about him that frightened her.
No, she did not fear him. Not even now, knowing he was Oathbroken.
Yansin had his secrets, but he’d saved her life, more than once, and had never brought her into danger. No, she’d done that all on her own. In fact, he’d tried to warn her. “Can I trust you?” she asked, reaching out her free hand to interlock her fingers with his. “Or am I a fool?”
“You are far from foolish, Zari.” He smiled, but his hazel eyes glimmered with held back tears.
“Which is something I cherish about you, and have since our first meeting. Still, things have changed since that night. Memories I’d thought lost are returning, which is why I fear that your trust is too great a gift to give. ”
“But it remains mine.” Her grip tightened, holding him there as if he might disappear if she blinked. Knowing Yansin, there was always that chance. “Mine to give, or to withhold. So tell me. Will trusting you endanger me?”
He shook his head. “I would sooner die than see harm come to you. And I…” He finally broke their gaze, to stare down at his wrist, as if imagining the mark he burned away. The one that would have matched hers, except hers was false, and his, so painfully real. “I am not one to make vows lightly.”
He’d told her his past was a foggy haze. Perhaps that had been part of the Oathbreaking. “Then I give you my trust.”
Leaning forward, Yansin returned her kiss, turning her head to capture her lips.
This time, he held nothing back, as if he drank her in, like he’d been desperate for her touch, her body, her taste.
She, in return, burned for him, her fingers digging into the muscles of his back, clinging to him as the kiss deepened .
His palm swept down her spine, and then, paused. He pulled back, his face flushed and breathing shallow. “You—your wounds,” he managed to say. “I do not think my care was enough to fix a broken rib.”
“My friend, Hazelle, she...” Zari hesitated. “If you were Oathborn, do you know Hazelle, then? And Daeden?”
A shadow passed over his face as she spoke.
Zari swallowed, hard, recalling the terrible stories she’d read of battles, all she’d told herself to forget as she’d journeyed with the fae.
The Oathborn had been soldiers for the Queen, relentless and unyielding.
They’d had no choice, no free will in those actions.
Yansin had broken to secure his own freedom.
The last thing she wished to do was ask him to recall what were, perhaps, painful memories.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “Forget my words, please.”
“Are you sure?” There was a tremor in his voice, an unsteadiness she’d never heard before.
“Is it painful to speak of the past?”
He nodded, just once, and looked away.
“Then we shall not.” Zari reached out to turn his cheek, so he could look at her again as she spoke. “Just be my sweet Yansin, and let the years before we met fade away.”
“I shall be that to you, indeed.” He kissed her forehead. “And your wounds? How are you feeling?”
“Better now,” Zari replied, and couldn’t help seizing the chance to tease him. “Though less so, now that you’ve stopped kissing me.”
That sparkle which had so entranced her back in the capital returned to his eyes.
He grinned, and bent to press his lips against her shoulder, her spine, and then, the bare skin of her neck.
His hot breath sent a rush of blood racing through her veins, her heart thudding as fast as it had during her duel against Javen.
Except now, unlike then, she was safe. There was no sword fight, no strange magic, nothing except Yansin, here, in the bed with her.
Acting on instinct, Zari shifted her position, trying to get closer to Yansin, only for a twinge of pain to race down her back. She hissed softly in response .
“Let me help,” Yansin said. “Magic can only do so much. Where does it hurt the most?”
She’d been so occupied with other thoughts, Zari hadn’t allowed herself a chance to truly assess her own injuries since Yansin had entered her room.
Even after Hazelle’s magic took away the worst of the agony, aches still remained, as did the discomfort of sore, exhausted muscles.
“My back,” she admitted. “And my shoulders.” Both locations, she realized, would require removal of her tunic for further inspection.
She realized, too, that she had no wish for Yansin to leave, even if she would be in such a state of undress. Carefully, she tugged the tunic off, leaving her torso exposed, except for the fabric wrapping around her chest, covering her breasts.
Once more, Yansin averted his eyes. This time, Zari figured it was out of gentlemanly courtesy. “You vixen,” he teased, “not even providing a man a bit of warning before disrobing.”
“You offered to look at my wounds.”
“So I did. Now, turn around and let me do so.”
“Why?”
“Because, dearest, if I was to look at your face in your current state, I fear I would become rather undone and be of no use to anyone, least of all to you, for a few minutes.”
“Oh,” Zari said, and then, upon a bit more reflection, repeated herself with more emphasis.
“ Ohh .” The soft laughter that escaped him made her blush all the more.
He kneeled behind her, his hands gently sweeping over her shoulders.
Though she usually liked her short hair, she suddenly found herself embarrassed by it, wishing she had a cascade of long, flowing locks like the fae she’d met. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled to him.
“For being a vixen?” He kissed her neck. “Never apologize for such a thing.”
“No, no. For, well. I’m… I’m not…” Her tongue seemed to stick to her teeth, and her words caught in her throat. “You’re seeing me now, as you have n’t before and…” Except she’d had short hair as long as they’d known each other. So why were her eyes burning now, stinging with hot, angry tears?
“And I am very much in awe of what I see,” he replied.
“For I gaze upon a confident, capable woman, who has traveled countless miles on a noble quest. Who has fought against terrible odds, and survived.” At the end of every sentence, Yansin planted a kiss along her spine, each one a bit lower than the one before.
She shivered, awaiting the next, and the next.