Oathborn

37. Zari

Chapter thirty-seven

Zari

T he sight of the desolate cottage sent a wave of disappointment crashing over Zari. Had Yansin lied? There was surely no one who could help her here.

After spying a set of eyes blinking at her, she realized she was wrong. Someone was here. “Hello?” Zari called.

“Hello!” A tiny voice echoed back. The raspberry bush in front of them trembled and shook.

A second later, a child burst out. The girl had a mop of wild, dark hair and an impertinent nose. “Who you?” she demanded in broken Rhydonian, glaring up at Zari. “My house, not yours.”

This was who Yansin had sent her to find? A child. His child? The thought made her heart twist uncomfortably. Surely not. Yansin didn’t seem like the type to have neglected to share such an important fact. “Where are your parents, little one?”

“They’re all gone,” the girl replied. “Mama went away. Miss Maye said she’s in a better place, but that’s not true! Better is right here!”

“Who is Miss Maye?” Was that Yansin’s friend? “Where is she?”

“You’ve taken care of yourself, haven’t you, little one?” Tivre’s voice cut in. There was warmth in it, but a note of caution as well. “Found yourself berries and fresh water to drink? ”

The girl’s purple eyes flicked in Tivre’s direction, before nodding. “Mama showed me.”

“And your magic helps you.” Tivre gestured to the girl’s wrist. Only now did Zari notice what she’d missed before. A large mark, in the shape of a crescent and teardrop. “Doesn’t it?”

“Don’t know ’bout that.” The girl’s lips pressed together stubbornly. “But I like your hair! Can I pet it?”

“I—you—”

Before he gave permission, the girl darted forward and sank her hands in his tousled mane.

She laughed delightedly, even more when Tivre winced at her tugs.

The child looked nothing like Yansin, but something about her seemed familiar, as if she’d seen those eyes before.

“Do you want to come with us?” Zari asked. “We can get you something to eat?”

“Cake?” the girl asked.

“Maybe,” Zari replied, not willing to bet there was a baker in such a small town. “But something better than berries, surely. What’s your name?”

“Ashali.” The girl grinned. “An’ yes. Cake soon?”

“After a good meal,” Zari countered. Who knew when the child’s last meal had been? She turned to Tivre and addressed him. “She’s coming with us.”

“Need bankie,” Ashali announced. Before they could stop her, she sprinted past the cottage.

Zari chased after her, following her down a dirt path to an overgrown thicket of raspberry bushes.

For being such a little child, she moved at a quick, agile speed.

It was only when Ashali paused to pluck one bright red berry and eat it that Zari caught up.

With a gap-toothed grin, the girl offered another, mostly squished one, to Zari, before ducking down and squirming beneath the branches.

“Ashali!” Zari said. “What are you—”

“Typical young Oathborn,” Tivre stopped a few feet away. Unlike Ashali, or really, any fae she’d met so far, he always had a languid, lazy way of moving. “They’re as bold as kittens and as foolhardy as puppies. ”

A rather sweet sentiment for those who would grow up to be the Queen’s best soldiers.

Tivre passed Zari an item. She took it, curiosity rising within her. They were tiny boots made of a material that looked distinctly familiar. Turning the boot over, she recognized the material as leather from his violin case strap. “You’re a cobbler?” she asked.

“No, I’m a fae,” he snapped, exasperated. He wiggled his fingers. “Magic. They’re made from magic. I’m not having her tracking muddy footprints everywhere.”

He made it sound as if they’d travel with her for some time. Perhaps all the way back to the isles.

“Why did you ask her about how she’s survived?” Zari asked.

“She’s Oathborn. Their magic always seems to help them in the wilderness, no matter how young they are. It’s not a topic I’ve studied enough to have more details than that.”

With a wriggling of branches, Ashali reappeared from the thicket.

“Bankie!” She thrust a bundle of gray fabric toward Zari.

The knit was denser and heavier than it looked, its weight surprising her.

As Zari’s fingers brushed the surface, the lacework seemed to stir like water, the patterns rippling and reforming.

One moment it was the restless sea, waves cresting and falling in threads of silver; the next, a scatter of islands emerged, each marked with a tiny building that glowed faintly against the shifting weave.

The ocean beat against the islands, waves crashing into them like ripples of silk.

Zari shook her head, freeing herself of the strange dreamlike illusion. When she blinked again, the blanket was just beautiful lace. Perhaps a bit of purple light clung to the edges, or perhaps it was a thin ribbon, twisted through the stitches.

His eyes wide, Tivre asked, “Who gave you this, little one?” He took it from Zari in a reverent way, his long fingers gliding over the lacework.

“Dis a bankie,” she said as if Tivre was the one not understanding. It was an amusing sight. She patted his leg and said the word slowly. “Bank-ie.”

“What’s wrong?” Zari murmured to Tivre .

“This is the work of a master mage.” Tivre carefully refolded the blanket. “Every single stitch is a piece of magic. It protects her from all matters of things, wounds, the cold, heat…”

Ashali, bored with their conversation, resumed picking raspberries.

Wordlessly, Tivre stood and went into the cottage, leaving Zari with the child.

She busied herself helping with the berry picking, as most of the ones Ashali selected went straight to her mouth.

By the time Tivre returned, with a strange expression on his face and a stack of four books in his arms, Zari had filled both pockets of Yansin’s faded coat with berries.

Tivre still didn’t speak as he shoved the books into the small bag he carried. There must have been magic in the bag’s fabric, for there was no way the books should have fit.

Ashali giggled and patted his hair. “Nice puppy.”

The smallest memory pulled at Zari, as if she’d seen that grin before. But no, children often looked alike. Round-cheeked and wide-eyed, innocent and hopeful and chaotic, all the things that faded with the years.

“I’ll go back for—” he began, turning toward the cottage again.

Zari screamed as she saw it. A roar of flames tore up through the cabin, bringing with them a wall of heat.

“No!” Ashali yelled and Zari had to lunge forward to keep her from plunging into the fire.

Tivre threw a handful of green glittering magic at the burning cabin, but it did nothing to stop the flames. He cursed and charged back into the now-inferno. Zari, clinging to Ashali, watched with bated breath.

He emerged a long moment later, his arms laden with random things; a doll, a book, a dress, he must have scooped up the first things he could see. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, not to Zari, but the sobbing child. “I’m so sorry.”

She flung herself onto the ground and continued to cry. Slowly, Tivre packed the few items into a bag that she was rather sure he’d made out of thin air. As swiftly as the fire flared, it faded, leaving behind ashes and ruins.

Tivre looked out at it. “The wards,” he said. “The whole thing was warded to prevent intruders. ”

“Which you were,” Zari replied.

He nodded.

“We cannot leave her,” Zari whispered to him. “She has no home.” Indeed, it now looked as if the cottage had burned down years before. Not even a smoldering ember remained.

“Nor can we bring her with us and attract the Queen’s attention,” he replied. “She deserves a better future than that of an Oathborn child.”

Tivre sighed, as if the weight of everything rested only on his shoulders. “Her parents wished the same.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Her name,” Tivre replied. “It means, peace .” He brushed a hand over the girl’s hair, and almost too late, Zari noticed the flicker of magic, before the tension eased out of her sobbing shoulders, replaced by faint snores.

“Let her rest.” Tivre pulled the small blanket the little girl had been so proud of around her. “Tell me, Zari. Did you have a favorite blanket as a child?” The strange question caught her off-guard. “Describe it to me.”

Haltingly, Zari spoke of her old quilt, a patchwork one with a blue ribbon border.

She’d spent many hours reading, curled up under it.

As she spoke, Tivre drew shimmering symbols in the air over the blanket.

After he snapped his fingers, the magic disappeared and the blanket now looked exactly like Zari’s childhood one.

Tivre said, “To Ashali, it will still look the same as always, but its secrets are now hidden.”

Zari could have sworn he bit back a sob.

The walk to Kirkton was short in terms of distance, but took considerably longer while carrying a child, which was a task Zari had taken on. “She’s probably the same age as Annette’s boys,” she said to no one in particular. Her heart twisted with guilt. How was Annette’s family faring now?

“How old are they?”

“Four. ”

Tivre considered the fact, then shook his head. “Ashali is older.”

“She’s surely no more than five. Why—”

“She’s full fae, Zari.” Tivre’s voice dropped low again. “She’s glamoured to look mortal, but trust me. She is fae, and we age far slower. I’d say she’s ten years, perhaps even twelve.”

“So she was born before the war even ended,” Zari replied. Tivre nodded, but his expression seemed strangely distant. It was easy for her to forget he’d fought in the battles too.

They crested the last rise and entered the heart of the village.

A weather-worn fountain burbled softly in the center, its stone edges worn smooth by years of use.

Lanterns flickered in the dimming light, their glow casting long shadows across the stooped figure pacing at the edge of the square.

She wore a faded shawl over her shoulders and gripped a walking stick with trembling hands.

“Miss Maye?” Zari called out, hoping her guess was right.

The woman turned, and at the sight of Ashali in Zari’s arms, relief collapsed her frame. She hurried forward with surprising speed, eyes brimming with unshed tears. “Oh, my sweet girl,” she whispered, reaching out with gnarled hands. “I was so afraid you’d wandered too far this time.”

Ashali stirred, half-asleep, and murmured something unintelligible before curling closer to Zari’s shoulder. Miss Maye’s eyes flicked to Zari and then to Tivre, her expression shifting between wary and grateful.

“We found her in the woods,” Zari said.

The woman nodded. “She keeps running back there. Ever since her ma died a year or so ago… she won’t accept her new home is with me and my family. Keeps me and my granddaughter on our toes, that’s for sure.”

“Most wildlings do,” Tivre murmured lowly. He’d pulled his glamour back, darkening his hair and hiding his fae features. “How did you meet her?”

“Her ma’s an old friend. My sister was the girl’s midwife, and when she passed, helping this little one came to me.” The woman smiled, and only now could Zari see the flash of teeth almost sharp enough to be fangs, too. “Us wildlings stick together, after all. ”

So Miss Maye was part-fae, like Yansin, and assumed the same of Ashali. Except, if Tivre was to be believed, that wasn’t true at all. She was a fae, and an Oathborn.

In her arms, Ashali stirred, muttering something softly. Zari stroked her hair, whispering soft words to her, and the child quieted again. What a pair she and Ashali made. A fake Oathborn and a true one and neither of them with a home.

“What will you do,” Tivre asked Miss Maye, “when the fae come calling to take her to the isles?”

“They haven’t yet,” Miss Maye said. “We keep to the warding ways, too. Salt on the doorstep, silverbane in the gardens…”

“Doesn’t work so well when she runs off, does it?” Tivre muttered.

“I’m just glad she’s safe,” Zari stepped forward, blocking Tivre’s view.

“She’s a sweet girl. By the way, do you happen to know about a robin?

” She tried her best to say it casually, knowing it was not the way Yansin would have wanted her to ask.

Had she been the reason the cottage burned down?

Perhaps the word robin was a charm to open the door.

“A robin?” Miss Maye shook her head. “Should I?”

Tivre’s green eyes, Zari noticed, were now fixed on her.

She winced, remembering that Yansin had said to keep his message away from the fae.

Hopefully, she hadn’t said too much. “Just something Ashali murmured,” Zari lied.

For someone who had prided herself on being truthful, she’d certainly gotten good at spreading falsehoods. “Thank you again.”

“Right,” Tivre said, “Tell Ashali goodbye and—”

“Goodbye?” Ashali interrupted, suddenly awake and wide-eyed. “No! Stay.”

“We have to leave,” Tivre said. “Ashali, you will be safe here and—”

“I go with you, puppy,” she stated.

Tivre blinked, his bright green eyes widening in his confusion. “I—no. I’m not a puppy.”

“Yes.” Ashali nodded. “You stay.”

“We cannot stay,” Zari told her. “I’ll carry you home, if Miss Maye will lead me.”

“Not my home,” Ashali muttered, resting her head against Zari’s shoulder once more. “Not at all.”

“I know, dear,” Zari whispered. “I know.”

Tivre’s watchful gaze lingered on Zari as they went to the inn and paid for their room, after they’d brought Ashali to the small townhouse Miss Maye lived in.

Tivre seemed comfortable in the town, as if he’d visited Kirkton before. Stranger still was how he unlocked the door for her, gave her a stack of bills to pay for food, and told her he would be back at dawn.

Once more, Zari was alone.