Page 133 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“Something damning,” Warner added.

Faren’s sense of right and wrong, his faithfulness to his friends, was pounding at the closed door of his Oath’s magic, screaming and desperate to break through. “I—” he tried, but even that caused his throat to sear with pain. “I—” His throatworked, throbbing and raw, and for the first time in his life, he truly considered pushing past it. Butifhe were to break his Oath—break his verybeing—now wasn’t the time.

Just then, the healer appeared with a basket of clean rags and bandages. “Apologies for the delay, Faren, I—oh.” She took in the three Mighty Knights crowded around his bedside, her shrewd eyes landing on Faren’s red face. “Do you need water?”

Faren was still coughing and wheezing into his fist, stars bursting across his vision.

“Laughing fit, is all,” Warner replied, patting Faren’s back. “I’m afraid we don’t make for restful company.” He swept his gaze over the healer’s pale blue robes, his eyebrows rising. “I don’t think we’ve met before, I’m—”

“Leaving,” Lee interrupted, smacking Warner’s back and shoving him toward the opening in the curtain.

“We’ll talk later?” Shae asked Faren. “Perhaps when you’re wearing pants.” Her expression turned serious and probing. “Unless you can’t?”

To the healer, her question probably sounded like an inquiry about his availability—not his physical ability to speak past his Oath.

“I’m afraid I might be incapacitated,” Faren rasped hoarsely. “You might consider annoying Oderin instead.”

Shae narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, seeming to weigh his words carefully.

“I trust Oderin,” Faren said at length, “to take your odious personality in stride.”

He knew his veiled meaning had landed when she slapped his thigh with a loud smack. “You fucker,” Shae said. “It’s good to have you back.” Then she was striding past the parted curtain, following the other men out.

Faren watched his friends go, a dog trapped in a kennel. He shook his head, trying to shake loose his helpless anger. Hecould not let the guilt overtake him; he had to keep his sights set on Oderin’s plan. It was his only true way out of this.

“Apologies for my rowdy associates,” he said to the healer. “Now, how much longer will this take? I have a letter to post.”

47

Ceremony

Faren

Faren adjusted his rust-colored sash, smoothing the ceremonial fabric over the curved plane of his breastplate. In the floor-length mirror, he appeared even more resplendent in his Captain’s garb than he’d imagined when he was a new recruit. Arcane symbols had been engraved into his breastplate at the shoulders, denoting his new rank. His armor had been polished to a high shine. The well-fitting and expertly stitched tunic and trousers underneath fit his body perfectly. And the hilts of his swords—sheathed across his back in anX—gave him a formidable air.Paired with his clean-shaven face and washed hair, he’d never looked more like a hero.

He’d never felt more like a fraud.

“You look like an insufferable prick,” Kate said, sidling up beside him and looping her arm through his.

“Ceremonial garb is always tedious,” Persephone put in from the settee behind them, not even bothering to glance up from her book.

“I think the colors are rather regal,” Eva replied as she perused a truffle dish on the opposite end of the room. “Lothgaimian green never suited his complexion, anyway.”

The Haywards had arrived at Castle Might four days prior, along with Archer Loth and a smattering of other court nobility, plus a notably large (and travel-weary) host of Mighty Lothgaimian Knights. Faren’s reunion with his sisters had been a noisy affair, what with all of Beatrice’s screaming and Eva’s crying, and he wouldn’t’ve had it any other way. He might’ve felt perpetually out of place within the hierarchy of his family’s status, but his familymemberswere dear to him. He’d missed them.

Over the past few days—when Faren wasn’t on duty, meeting with Oderin, or visiting the healer to ensure his wound continued to heal properly—he had spent his free time attending Unity Festival parades, tournaments, and feasts with his family. Not to mention loitering in the opulent sitting room of their guest suite. His desire to visit with them was genuine, but so too was his rising paranoia.

Faren blinked down at his older sister, deciding to ignore her insult. “You are a vision,” he said, then lifted his voice to the room at large. “You all are.”

Eva fiddled with the ruffled sleeve of her pale green gown.

Persephone—draped in a billowy teal dress—wrinkled her nose at her book.

“Kate’s the only one who looks good in green,” Beatrice said, flouncing out from a conjoined room wearing a beaded lime gown. She slapped at Persephone’s propped-up legs, and—once they were out of her way—plopped down on the settee with ahumph.

Kate rolled her eyes, then smoothed her hands awkwardly down the bodice of her emerald dress. While most of the Hayward children took after their mother—with light brownhair, stern jawlines, and skin that tanned easily—Kate had taken after their father. Her pale skin and narrow bone structure were indeed complimented by the green, but that didn’t hide the fact that she despised formalwear. And court duties in general.

Faren wished she hadn’t come.