Page 118 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“What were you hoping I’d say?”

I supposed I’d hoped for some sign that our plan might actually work. Now, I worried that it could be the opposite. It made me want to rein Simon around and send him into a gallop, escaping south.

“Wavy black hair, perhaps?” Faren continued, breaking through my fearful imaginings. “Dark, mysterious eyes. Some pretty hint that my Fortune could be you?”

“I’m not nearly that frivolous or foolish,” I said, but I found a sliver of truth in his teasing. How lovely it would’ve been to have shown up in anyone’s Mirror of Fortune—let alone his.

“Admit it,” Faren said, lifting his chin, the very picture of pomp and charm. “Youlikeme.”

I chuckled. “I donot.”

It’s more than that, said a small voice in the back of my head, but I didn’t want to burden him or our plans with such anadmission. He’d already told me in no uncertain terms that he had no intention of falling in love; that his duty would always come first. And I knew deep within my audacious, selfish heart that if I were to allow myself to care for him as much as I thought I could, I wouldn’t want to come second.

Not even to the realm.

And knowing how his life ended, I didn’t want to explore the burgeoning affection I had for him. Icouldn’t. I refused to do that to myself again.

“Liar,” Faren said playfully. “At the very least, you like me between your legs.” He tapped his chin thoughtfully. “You might also like my personality—just a little. In fact, I have reason to believe that you might even enjoy my company.”

I bit the tip of my tongue, trying to suppress my grin. “Do you have any evidence to support such an outlandish claim?”

He gave me a winning smile, all straight teeth and crinkly eyes. “We’ve been traveling together for six weeks,” he said, “and you have yet to stab me even once.”

I tipped my head back, laughter spilling free. He laughed, too, seemingly pleased to have lifted me out of my solemn mood.

“What about you?” Faren asked once I’d quieted. “What’s your happy future? Your Fated Fortune?”

A gust of wind ruffled my hair, and I looked out at the late-autumn landscape and the massive tumble of cumulous clouds above. Sunlight glanced off Faren’s armor, the metal reflecting our surroundings in shimmering browns, greens, and whites—resplendent. He was watching me with a look of open curiosity.

The question was innocent enough. For most folks, a vision of Fortune was a simple thing—a loved one, a stroke of luck, at most a little vulnerable. For me, however, the vision was damning. No one knew the specific details—not even my parents—and yet I was tempted to tell him. To give him another part ofmyself, just to see what he did with it—trusting that whatever his response was, it would be kind.

But I must’ve hesitated too long, because Faren broke eye contact. Giving Sunny a distracted pat on the neck, he said, “It’s alright if you don’t want to tell me.”

“It’s just that—well—my Fortune isn’t in the future,” I began. “It already happened.”

Light brown eyes lifted to mine and held. “What was it?”

“A Ledger.”

“Your Fortune was…” His eyebrows drew together as he formed the realization, and there was something satisfying about watching him put the facts together in his mind. I knew few people who were that cunning, and even fewer who wielded it for good. “That’s what you stole from Castle Might,” he said. “That’s why you’re a Valiant Knight.”

“Foolish, isn’t it?”

But he was looking at me not as if I were a fool, but with a tender understanding, as if it all finally made sense. “You did it for your family.”

“I did.”

“On the eve of our mission, my friends told me the rumors about your past,” he explained. “They said that your father took you to the capital. I’m assuming he was there to request something of the Lord, and that the Lord denied him?”

“A break in taxes.”

His grimace was filled with shame. “I’ve watched Lord Haron deny many honest folk. I always thought there was some hidden logic to his decisions, a greater economy worth considering, but I was wrong.” He scratched the back of his neck. “It sickens me to know how complicit I’ve been.”

“You changed your mind,” I said. “You’re taking action now.”

“Doesn’t stop the damage already done. Even before I joined…Fates, how many people have suffered?” His brow furrowed, tone softening. “You were just a little girl.”

I barely remembered what I was like before the Valiant. My parents often regaled me with stories about my childhood humor, inquisitiveness, and spirited nature. What I remembered most viscerally, however, was the hunger. A horrible, yawning, painful, torturousemptiness, made worse by my touch magic. All those lean winters where my mother had held me close, rocking me in her arms, as if her love could fill my belly.