35. Tobias #2
“As for the smoke, it was not crafted by an Oathborn, so the deaths do not break the covenant. Blood Ember is not bound by the Accords.” As always, Javen seemed to speak so confidently about both the monster and the peace treaty. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand in thought.
Tobias gripped the doorway a bit tighter, taking it all in.
Did he still have that business card? Was now the time to send a telegram back to the capital?
It would be easy enough to make up an excuse for his need to relay a message.
Letting his family know he’d been injured, or asking someone to check on his apartment.
First, he had to find the card. He turned around, limping carefully back toward the bed, searching for his uniform jacket. A tin cup fell off the chair near him and hit the ground. It bounced, twice, the sound uncomfortably loud in the silence.
Spotting his jacket folded on the foot of the bed, Tobias leaned forward.
The door slammed open, hitting hard against the wall. Startled, Tobias tripped, falling onto his back. Pain laced up his back. He hissed out a breath.
When he looked up to see Javen glaring down at him, he found himself holding the next breath in fear. The captain, even unarmed and dressed casually, still radiated with banked ferocious energy. “What did you hear?”
“Nothing, sir,” Tobias mumbled. He clung to military formalities even when nothing else was normal or standard, because they were all he had.
“Falsity suits only spies.”
Tobias’s face burned. “My apologies, sir.”
As Tobias tried to push himself up, another sharp spike of pain hit him. His wounds were still healing. “Damn,” he whispered, as he tried to check his injuries. “Guess silverbane isn’t exactly a miracle cure. ”
Javen watched him, his face emotionless, his jaw tight.
He was the sort of man, Tobias realized now, that it would be easy to hate.
He was well-educated. Tall, fit, handsome, provided one didn’t mind a lot of scowling.
There were a hundred young men at the academy who had all of those qualities.
None of them ever felt half as threatening as Javen.
No matter how poised, how graceful he appeared, something dangerous, almost feral, always flickered in his expression. A dare, a challenge, a faint mockery of all he observed.
At least, that was how Tobias had always seen him, until now. Something like concern crossed his face, a softening of his intensity for a second.
Lockwood called. “By droughts, you have the bedside manner of a wolverine.”
Shaking his head, Javen held out a hand. “If you’re going to eavesdrop, at least do so from a chair so you don’t rip your stitches.”
Tobias, still shocked, took it and let Javen pull him up.
Once downstairs, Tobias hesitated. The only open chair was the one which the deputy prime minister had recently vacated.
Tobias’s stomach twisted in knots. Even his professors at the academy had often reminded Tobias that a scholarship student should never take up any unnecessary space.
Unless one’s family held a title, one was expected to be both silent and invisible. Which Tobias had failed at.
“Sit,” Javen said, jerking his head at the chair.
Gingerly, Tobias lowered himself, half-expecting Lockwood to tell him not to. As he took a steadying breath, he tasted the smoke clinging to the air, both the spicy tang of the cigars and the sweet, minty notes of Javen’s cadevesh cigarettes.
The same plant which had saved the fae Tobias had shot. There had to be a correlation, somehow, between—
“How’s your wound, boy?” Lockwood asked. There was real concern in the man’s eyes, surprising Tobias.
He tried to sit up straighter as he responded, “I’m quite well, sir. No issues here. ”
“You’re lying again,” Javen commented. “Not many survive two fae blades in under a month.”
He had been. Because he hadn’t wanted to seem weak in front of the two officers. “I’m sorry, I just—”
“You will board the next train south,” Javen said. His expression, unlike Lockwood’s, was more guarded. Impossible to read. “And return to service in the Capital.”
In other words, he was to retreat, his tail between his legs, because he had failed. He’d failed to apprehend Zari, failed to save the other soldiers from that terrible smoke monster, failed in every task Javen had assigned him.
“What about you?” Tobias asked.
“My mission is not yet complete.” Javen’s tone remained crisp and detached, but his gaze drifted, past Tobias and to the small window by the door.
It was as if he was looking at something far past the confines of the little cabin.
“It grows more dangerous by the hour. Blood Ember is close by, even now. Miss Ankmetta has surely reached the isles.”
“You should have killed the girl,” Lockwood said, cutting Javen off. “I am still surprised at that little show of sentimentality from you, Javen. I didn’t take you for a bleeding heart.”
Tobias’s throat tightened, making it hard to even swallow. He’d appreciated the concern Lockwood had shown him, but that easy mention of murdering Zari evaporated any trust Tobias had in the man.
“She is General Ankmetta’s daughter,” Javen said. “Was she not betrothed to your son? Would that have not stayed your hand?”
“Garrick would have done the task himself, if he was alive and learned she was consorting with those foul creatures.” Lockwood’s lips twisted into a grimace.
Once more, tension crackled between the two officers. This time, Tobias found his voice. “With all due respect, Captain Javen. I would like to stay. Knowing the danger, even. There must be some way I can help with the mission.” Even if he no longer really knew what the mission consisted of .
“Oh?” Javen’s attention turned back to him. “You are not afraid, even after the attack?”
“I am prepared to face what I must,” Tobias said. “To keep Rhydonia safe.”
Javen regarded him for a long moment. “Very well. It’s your choice. You may have use as a gatherer of information.”
“One of us could—” Lockwood began.
Javen glared at him with an intensity Tobias was used to being on the receiving end of. It was rather enjoyable to watch someone else squirm. “Tobias is far more capable of blending in.”
So, an informant for Javen and Lockwood. Surely, staying involved was the best way to keep Zari safe, if he had to. “Tell me what I must do.”
Javen took a long drag of his cigarette. “You’ll lose the knowledge you have of Old Rhydoni as a language for a week. A temporary trade. You will be able to understand the fae in return, one language replacing another in your memory.”
Tobias scrunched his nose, trying to puzzle out the comment. One couldn’t learn a language like that so easily. Even he, who picked up Old Rhydoni quickly, still stumbled over complex translations or abstract words. “That sounds like—”
“Magic,” Lockwood said flatly. “That’s your big plan? Wave a wand around and make the boy into a spy, then drop him on the isles?”
“A spy, yes. He’s not going to the isles.” Javen stood and paced over to the solitary window. His back to them, he stared out into the night. A few errant blue sparks flickered on the edges of his fingers before he clenched them into a fist. “They’re nearby. We have no time to waste.”