Oathtaker

Up the long staircase they climbed as a staff member lit torches along the way. Flowerpots cast in designs of birds and animals flanked the edges of the steps. In the middle of the landing at the top, sat a fountain. Around it was room to lounge, provided one did not mind getting damp from the mist in the air. When they reached it, Dixon called out, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Dixon, do come in. It’s late, and that crowd can’t be trusted,” Lilith said. “You’re a guest here and you’ll soon discover that those discontents out there don’t hold to finding any differences between the Select and other palace visitors—including Oathtakers.”

He held up his banded forearm and glared. “A guest, you say? Banded? More like a prisoner. Or what, Lilith, a criminal?”

She frowned. “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s for your own protection.”

“Let me get this straight. You band me, and in doing so shut me from the very powers I would use to protect myself or others. Then with a straight face, you tell me it’s for my own good.” He shook his head. “Really, if you can’t be honest with yourself, you could at least be honest with me.”

“Like I said, you’re being ridiculous. There are plenty of people who might not think too kindly of you, what with Rowena’s death and all.”

“Judging by the welcome of the crowd out there,” he said, pointing toward the gate, “you’ve managed to please the locals so well that I’d be considered a hero if they believed me responsible for her death.”

Lilith huffed. “Come in now.”

“I’ll be in shortly.”

She didn’t want to leave him unattended. She tried to convince Marshall to stay behind, but he refused with a curt shake of his head; his duty was to her. In a flurry, she proceeded to the front door as someone opened it from within. So perfect was the timing of the palace staff that she didn’t miss a beat with her steps.