Page 128 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Faren glanced down at himself. His breastplate was smudged with travel grime. His boots were caked with mud. Blood had oozed through his bandages to soak his already-stained pants. He hadn’t spied his reflection in days, but he knew by feel that his beard was scraggly, and he had no doubt there were dark circles under his eyes.

Faren braced for a scold—it wasn’t proper for a Mighty Knight to be so unkempt—but now that the truth was out in the open, the barrier between Major and subordinate seemed to have dissolved. If anything, Oderin—as bedraggled as he was—appeared relieved to confide in Faren.

“There’s been a stir over a misplaced Ledger,” Oderin explained. “It happens on occasion, but this time, well, the Lord has been in astate. I’ve had a series of late nights—and not the fun kind. We finally located it this morning.”

Mariana’s Ledger-stealing escapades were the one thing Farenhad notdivulged to Oderin; it didn’t feel right to betray the secret of her sentence. Still, he was curious: “Where was it?”

“Under your bed,” Oderin said. “Not to worry, though, I was the one who found it and I know it wasn’t you.”

Faren smothered a smile. With Mariana’s mischief still echoing through Castle Might’s halls, he felt oddly closer to her, like the way her scent had lingered on his shirt for days after their separation.

Faren kept his voice even when he asked, “Do you know the culprit?”

Oderin bounced his shoulders in a noncommittal shrug. Either he knew and wouldn’t say, or he didn’t know and didn’t much care.

Faren didn’t press; his amusement was already souring. “How do you do it, Oderin? How do you serve a man for whom you have no respect?”

Oderin unfolded his arms and placed his hands on the edge of the desk, framing his hips. “I can make more of a difference in my position than if I were out there,” he said, jerking his chin toward the window. “If I have to hold my nose and bite my tongue to benefit this great realm, I will.”

Putting the realm above their own self-interests was a normal part of their Oath but walking the line between serving the realm and undermining the sovereign—foryears—must’ve been tedious and isolating.

“I’m not saying it’s easy,” Oderin continued, “but my Fortune is my knighthood. I trust the Fates to guide me.”

Faren hadn’t known that about Oderin, but it made sense. The Major was unwavering in his duty. Faren was too weary to point out thatboththeir Fates had brought them to the Mighty; he didn’t want to think about his visions in the Mirrors.

Oderin’s attention fell to the sticky red blotch on Faren’s thigh. “Should we be concerned about that wound?”

Faren regarded his leg impassively. He had done what he could to staunch the bleeding and keep the wound clean, applying alcohol and salves from the healing kit he kept in his pack—yet the puncture in his thigh continued to weep through his bandages, the flesh growing redder and more inflamed by the day.

Removing the bolt had been a trying experience, in which he’d had to break off the fletching and pull the quarrel out through the back of his thigh, where the point had exited. Even with the dulling effect of his magic, the pain had been excruciating. Getting himself and a delirious Bard onto Sunny’s back had been a trying experience, and riding to the Bellkeep’s homestead had been an agonizing blur. He should’ve stayed there torecover before the journey north, but the thought of Mariana disappearing into the Western Wood alone with those conniving criminals had obscured all sense and logic.

He’d been in too much of a frenzy to wait around and heal. It’d been hard enough not to set his sights on rescuingher, Fenrir be damned.

“Probably,” Faren answered Oderin, “but I’m more concerned with what we should do about the Lord. Who else knows?”

“Including you, there are thirty-three of us,” Oderin said. “As you’d imagine, it’s been a challenge to work around the limits of my Oath.”

Thirty-three was nothing out of thehundredsof Mighty Knights—not to mention the other Orders. But it was something. “Does Marona know?”

“They suspect.”

“And?”

“And I’ve turned a blind eye to their plants and spies in our city to allow them to progress their intelligence. That’s all I can do—and no aid has come. No aidwillcome, until there is a real threat to Marona’s authority.”

“Why not have Idris spread the word on your behalf?” Faren had been ruminating on that question since Waldron. “His Oath is gone. He seemed perfectly free to—”

“The Valiant and the Lord are already suspicious of him; I can’t even send him a letter without probable interception,” Oderin said. “If he stuck his neck out to inform the Mighty, he’d swiftly be silenced—and his friends in Waldron would be at risk.” Oderin let out a long sigh. “The Mighty wouldn’t believe him, anyway—even if I vouched for him, which my Oath would not allow. As much as I’d welcome his help, this isn’t his fight. Better to let word spread internally, covertly, without the Lord’s suspicion.”

“I should’ve had someone from Waldron write it down.” He should’ve had Noble send word to his father.

“The Mighty Oath won’t permit us to evensuggestsomeone betray a secret of the realm. It also won’t let us reveal written proof to anyone who doesn’t already know, nor allow us to knowingly leave the note for someone to find,” Oderin reminded him. “Trust me, I’ve tried.”

Faren rubbed his fox figurine through the outside of his pocket, seeking comfort but not finding any. “What now, then?” he asked. “How do we save the realm when we can’t tell anyone it’s in danger? How do I save—” He broke off abruptly.

Oderin snorted, seeing right through him. “You care for her, don’t you?”

The candor in his Major’s question made Faren’s cheeks heat. He had always believed that love would distract and fracture him, but the truth was, he’d never felt more whole. Love had not ruined him, as he’d expected; instead, it made him stronger and more purposeful. More determined.