Oathborn

Prologue

“ G o! 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 trenches provided 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 the wrongness of potential disobedience.

No time to burn the body, no time for any grief. She grabbed Tivre’s arm. “We must leave. You are not safe.”

“And I’m the only one who matters, right?” Tivre drawled. “Let everyone else die.”

No, she wanted to say. Every life mattered.

Except she couldn’t. The Oath’s magic bound her lips. To the Queen, Tivre mattered far more than almost anyone else still living.

Before she could respond with some half-truth the Oath would permit, a sudden, clarion bell rang. The ringing progressed to the opening chords of an ethereal song, echoing across the battlefield. The soaring tune lifted her spirits and soothed her aching head. Magic. This music was magic.

“The Accords,” Tivre whispered. “They’ve been signed.”

“By… by us?” She’d thought the rumors of the Peace Accords were nothing but an impossible hope.

A strange smile appeared on Tivre’s face, as if he knew something she didn’t. “We already signed them a year ago. We’ve been waiting for the humans to do the same.”

But then… “Peace.” Maqui breathed. “We are at peace. ”

As the countless Oaths, given over a century of combat stilled within her, her mind calmed. Though the magic still pulsed within her, though she would still serve the Queen until her dying breath, the war was over. Her son would be safe. Finally, she could return home to the isles.

A single glance across the battlefield reminded her how much was lost. Moans of the nearly dead echoed. Bodies floated face down in craters left by mortars. Wreckage of destroyed trees, fences, and fortifications littered the ground ahead of the barbed wire defenses of the Rhydonian trenches.

War could begin in a heartbeat, but peace took far longer to blossom.

Someday, someone would tear down the barbed wire, remove the magical barriers, and bury the bodies. The desolate landscape might bloom once more, and families would picnic alongside the river’s shore.

It would be a beautiful world when it finally came to be.

As they walked, her sharp eyes picked out the detail of one chest still rising with shallow breath. A human soldier lived.

And she, for the first time in a hundred years, had no magical compulsion to kill him.

Maqui sprinted ahead, leaping over the barbed wire. Louder, slower footsteps followed, a sign of Tivre chasing after her. Let him. He was safe now.

So was she.

So was everyone, now that the world was at peace.

Reaching the fallen soldier, Maqui dropped to her knees. Where she’d had to be cold, distant, unyielding to the death of her companion, here, she could be kind. This was the beauty of peace. She could hold the hand of someone she would have killed.

The soldier turned his head, eyes widening at her appearance. Her fangs, her strange features, her pointed ears, the dread Oathborn mark on her wrist.

His lips struggled to form words. “Please. Don’t kill me.”

“I won’t!” She squeezed his hand harder as her eyes roved over his body, searching for the wound. She saw it, a red, angry gash down one shoulder. A fae blade’s lingering mark .

“I have a son. I have to get back to him and my wife.” The soldier fumbled for something around his neck. A small set of metal tags, embossed with words in the mortal language. “I’m Private Bridger. If you can get these back to anyone. Let them know, so my family doesn’t—”

So his family would have closure, certainty of his death, if they could not promise his return.

“I understand.” A flash of her own son’s face rose in her mind. “For our children’s sake. Tivre!” she yelled to the mage, who was nearing her now. “He needs healing!”

She stood, scanning the muddy ground for silverbane, the small, leafy herb that alone could save a human from a fae’s blade.

Bang!

Gunfire reverberated through the air. A human sniper, ignorant of the new peace. She felt nothing at first. Nothing, and then warmth, a steady drip of blood. The pain blossomed next, igniting an agony she’d never known before. Her hand went to her stomach, where the bullet had pierced her armor.

Her legs crumpled. As she fell, the metal tags of the soldier slid from her fingers.

Through cracked lips, Maqui muttered a curse. Her thoughts bubbled up, fury at the Queen, at every meaningless Oath she’d sworn.

“Maqui!” Tivre yelled. “Your Oath.”

Yes. Her Oath. That magic, binding her, kept her trapped to the Queen’s horrid will. It could be broken, but at what cost? Torment, unyielding pain, anguish. But could anything be worse than dying without ever knowing a moment of freedom? Would her whole life be lived in a cage?

She found her courage, and her voice. “Damn the Queen. Damn her orders.”

Her Oath shattered. A fever ignited within, and her limbs trembled. Pain, unlike anything she’d ever known overtook her body. Still, she’d done it. It no longer held her in thrall. Even as every vein now filled with fire, her heart did not beat in time with the Oath .

Desperately, her fingers tightened on the metal tags. “Tivre. Save the soldier once I’m gone.”

“It’s a fatal wound?” Tivre’s voice trembled.

“Yes.” She’d seen enough others die to be sure of that fact.

“Then the Accords will end. As swiftly as they began.” Bitterness clung to his words. “We bound the Accords to two magical clauses. No Oathborn fae shall kill a human, unless they trespass onto fae lands. Unless it is in self-defense, no human shall kill a fae. ”

Here she lay, an Oathborn fae, dying to a human bullet, the first to fall in peacetime, and the last.

Unless… her eyes went to Tivre’s tear-streaked face. Poor child. She would ask a great task of him. “Do what you must. To protect the Accords.”

“I can’t,” Tivre whispered.

“You have to.” Her eyes flicked over to the soldier. Private Bridger. What a strange first name. “And save him.”

Tivre nodded. “I’ll get the silverbane once…”

Once I am dead.

If it were his magic that killed her, then the Accord’s covenant would remain. Maqui closed her eyes. How wretched war was, that even peace required death to keep it.

“Tell my son I love him.” Desperate to show Tivre she did not hold this against him, she reached out, fumbling to find his hand with hers. “And Tivre, promise me you will always protect this peace.”