Her brow furrowed as she thought for a mont, as if combing through her mories.
"Oath?" she repeated. "I’ve heard one of his close associates ntion it... Marcus, I think his na was. Yes." She paused, her expression twisting uneasily. "But I’m not under any myself. Not yet."
Not yet?
She wasn’t under any oath?
That realization didn’t sound right to .
Soone like her—useful, skilled, connected to the chief’s forge and inner workings—should have been bound by at least one vow of loyalty.
Otherwise, what was stopping her from betraying him? From running off to an enemy clan?
Unless... this was that betrayal.
My jaw tightened."What do you an by not yet?"
I pressed Gravefang lightly against her neck, the cold edge of the blade resting just above her collarbone. The faint tremor that passed through her body told she understood exactly how thin the line was between her words and her death.
She swallowed hard:
"They wanted to put under one," she said quickly, her voice shaking but coherent. "But sothing happened that day—so sort of ergency. The chief left with a few of the other Chosen not long after, and since then I’ve just been... working. Zivra was the one supervising ."
She hesitated, her eyes flicking up toward mine for a mont before darting away again. "Please, don’t kill ," she added, her voice dropping to a whisper. "I wasn’t part of their plans. I just fixed what they told to. I swear that’s all I’ve done."
I narrowed my eyes, studying her face carefully—the nervous flicker of her gaze, the uneven rhythm of her breathing, the faint quiver at the edge of her jaw.
I couldn’t tell if what I was seeing was honesty or performance.
She carried that kind of eccentric innocence that made her sound believable, the kind that could disarm you if you weren’t paying attention.
But it might just be a façade—a desperate mask worn by soone who knew exactly how to survive a blade at their throat.
I leaned closer, close enough to see the way her pupils dilated, close enough that she had to tilt her head slightly away from mine.
"You’re not lying to ... are you?" I asked, my tone calm but edged with the kind of threat that didn’t need to be shouted.
Her breath hitched.
"Why would I? I’ll lose my head if you move your blade an inch closer."
The words ca out soft but rushed, as if she feared that silence might seal her fate faster than the truth.
My brows furrowed.
"I swear I’m not lying," she said again, her voice firr now, forcing itself into steadiness. Then she lifted her head, eting my gaze at last. "Believe ."
For a brief mont, I saw sothing flicker in her eyes—fear, yes, but also resolve. Maybe she believed her own words. Or maybe she was just good at pretending.
I let out a quiet exhale and shook my head faintly. "Says every con artist."
"What would you have do then?" she asked.
"Swear it," I said.
Her brows furrowed. "Swear what?"
I leaned in slightly, my tone sharpening. "Swear that every ti you lie to , you’ll feel a one-second crippling shock—a reminder that deceit isn’t without consequence."
Her eyes widened, and she whispered almost involuntarily, "Drugar? You really want to go that far?"
So, she did know. She understood the weight of that na—the danger of invoking a god’s power carelessly.
"Oh, you know him," I said quietly, almost amused. "Good. Then you understand what happens when an oath under his na is broken."
Her throat bobbed as she swallowed hard. I didn’t move. The silence stretched long enough for her to realize that hesitation wasn’t an option.
"Swear it," I said again, lowering my voice to a near growl. "It’s the only way I don’t decapitate you right here."
Her breath hitched. "Fine..." she said finally, her voice trembling. "I swear on Drugar’s na that if I ever lie to the goblin in front of —"
"Eli," I interjected flatly."The na is Eli."
She sighed, her shoulders slumping as if surrendering to the inevitable.
Then she began to speak, her voice trembling but clear:
"I swear on Drugar’s na that if I ever lie to Goblin Chief Eli, then may one second of crippling shock befall ."
The mont the last word left her lips, the air shifted, and a faint hum rippled through the tent—subtle, but sharp enough to raise the hair on my arms.
I watched as faint arcs of blue light flickered around her body, like ethereal chains wrapping tightly around her form. The glow sizzled briefly before fading from sight.
It was done. The oath had taken hold.
"Good," I muttered, sliding Gravefang back into its sheath.
Talia exhaled slowly, a mixture of relief and resentnt crossing her face.
I caught the faint flicker of annoyance in her eyes—an irritation at being bound by sothing so severe, so humiliating—but I didn’t care.
Her feelings were irrelevant.
What mattered was that she couldn’t deceive now—not without paying for it.
I crossed my arms and asked, "Do you have any idea where the chief is now?"
"I don’t know exactly," she said after a mont’s hesitation, her voice low but certain. "But he should be arriving soon."
That made pause. Arriving soon?
My eyes narrowed slightly. "Why is that?"
She glanced toward Zivra’s unconscious form before eting my gaze again. "Didn’t you destroy the graveyard?" she asked cautiously.
I gave a small nod, and she continued.
"Zivra ntioned her father could sense when sothing happened to it—that he’d know instantly, and he’d co back with his Chosens."
His Chosens?
The words lingered in my head like an echo. So there were more?
The thought made sothing sharp flicker through —not fear, but a dangerous kind of anticipation.
"That’s great," I said, unable to stop the faint grin that tugged at the corner of my mouth. "That ans more skills to collect."
Talia stared at as though I’d lost my mind, the excitent in my tone clearly unsettling her.
"How is that great?" she asked, her voice rising slightly. "Her father isn’t like the others. He’s terrifying."
"And I’m not?" I asked, arching a brow.
She flinched.
"Not as terrifying as him?" I pressed, leaning slightly forward.
Her eyes widened, and she waved her hands frantically, shaking her head. "No! Of course not—you’re scarier!"
The words had barely left her mouth when it happened.
ZZZIT!
A sharp...
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