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I woke as the sun set to find myself curled tightly against ART’s heavy shell. I could remain alert for days on end if I had to, every sense alert, and yet in this circumstance it took effort to open my eyes. It was like I trusted the turtle or something, which was gross, and which made my wings twitch open with enough force to almost dislodge me from my resting place.
ART’s laughter thrummed through the oath-bond we shared and into my head. It sounded like rippling waves. Annoying, especially when my face threatened to move in response. “Rise and shine,” it said. “We’ll be approaching the port soon enough.”
I wasn’t looking forward to it. In the endless ocean, I could pretend like the matrix of pledges sewn into my skin didn’t matter. On shore, I was horrifically aware of them at every moment. Many humans had some promises etched into their skin, but I wasn’t human, and almost every inch of my skin was covered with glyphs of binding, preservation, and power.
I had been turned into a weapon, and ART—Asshole Researcher Turtle. It had never told me its personal name, because I had never asked; I had a nagging feeling it would tell me as soon as I asked, but was holding off because it didn’t want to pressure me into returning the favor—had helped me hide the most visible marks. So long as I went around fully covered, which I preferred anyway, my face and hands wouldn’t give me away as anything other than a particularly grumpy person.
The whole disguise would go to shit the moment I had to use my wings, but that shouldn’t be a problem. I knew how to go undercover. ART had even helped me hash out a cover identity and name that wouldn’t ping as lies to anyone who heard me say them. I was a professional bodyguard, and so long as I said I ‘wanted to be called’ something, I could give any name I liked.
“You could stay with me,” ART said, sounding hopeful. I wasn’t sure what its current goal was, because I hadn’t asked, but it had something to do with pledgecrafting and oathbreakers, which…
Well, it hit a little close to home when I’d only gotten my freedom back by teaching myself how to wiggle out of the promises on my skin.
“Nah,” I told ART. The horizon glittered with electric lights. Human ingenuity at its finest. Considering the silver and gold wires woven into my wings, I couldn’t reject it fully. No purely fae being could do what I did. But then, neither could any pure human. I folded my wings tightly against my back and started dressing myself in dark clothes. ART had gathered quite a store of lost items simply by allowing itself to be used as a transport vessel despite being nothing like the indulgent and lazy turtles who usually took on that role.
But then, most humans couldn’t feel the store of power in ART’s heart or step into ART’s inner chambers. ART’s secrets resided there, including far too many hands and eyes for them to be just a turtle, which they’d been delighted to confirm as soon as I’d been forced to admit my own hybrid self. But ART had chosen this, and liked pushing edges.
I just wanted to live freely.
It shouldn’t that much to ask.
“I’ll see you again,” ART said cheerfully as it stopped near a docking hub.
The air thickened with promise. I touched ART’s solid face, well below the eye bigger than my body, and whispered. “Yes. We’ll see each other again.”
Some oaths were worth making. The runes of reunion glimmering on ART’s jaw and my palm were ordinary. Everyone had a few. They wouldn’t stand out.
This was the first I’d chosen to wear.