Page 31 of Fate's Wicked Oath

The sun had fully set by the time they crept into the heart of town. The moon was high and full, illuminating the cloud cover until everything glowed a pale and eerie blue. Nearby, but out of sight, the River Gray frothed and hissed, and strange sounds came from the neighboring wood: growls and howling, but also a high-pitched keening that made the back of Faren’s neck prickle.

Mariana led the way as they quietly heel-toed across the cobblestones, the fog eddying in their wakes. They’d stashed their gear a little ways back, within the rubble of an upturned wagon. Their swords were drawn, but they kept the flames of their Oath magic unlit.

“It has occurred to me that we ought to discuss what exactly you’ve been tasked to investigate,” Mariana whispered, sounding far too calm given their sinister surroundings. “Do you have a form to fill out?”

She was mocking him, but his orders did come with a list of inquiries. “You are to give me a thorough tour,” Faren said,adjusting his grip on Mercy’s hilt. Honor remained sheathed, and he used his free hand to thumb the fox figurine in his pocket, comforted by the trinket. “I’ve been tasked to explore as much as possible. Spare no nook or cranny.”

“Buy me dinner first, won’t you?”

He snorted. “You wish.”

“For dinner? I really do.”

“I meant the other thing.”

“Sex?”

The word sent a pulse of awareness through him—one that was ill suited for the current context and company. Faren stared at the cascade of thick hair down her spine, shifting like a curtain as she moved, catlike, through the gloom ahead of him. While Faren’s armor practically glowed in the moonlight, Mariana—with her black clothing and leather straps that crisscrossed her shoulders, hips, and thighs—all but disappeared into the gloom. When Faren was a boy, he’d read a fairytale about a woman made of shadow who lured young men into a haunted wood; he felt a bit like he was following that woman now.

“I’m not sure this is the time or place for innuendos,” he said.

“You’re the one who brought up my nooks and crannies.”

A distant shriek rent the air, echoing off the crumbling stone to their right. Faren startled. Mariana barely seemed to notice, her footsteps remaining steady.

She spared him a glance over her shoulder. “You’re doing great, sweetheart,” she murmured suggestively.

Faren spluttered. “Mariana.”

“Iknewyou had an affinity for praise.”

Faren refused to dignify her crudeness with a response.

With the fog and moonlight, the town around them was reduced to shadows and shapes. They were walking up Main Street, presumably toward the town square. The bell tower rose ahead like a bad omen. Narrow shops lined the road, and froma distance, all seemed normal—but as Faren passed closer, the evidence of destruction became more apparent.

Doors were splintered and bashed in. Windows had been shattered; broken glass glittered on the sidewalk. A terrible rotting smell spilled out of an abandoned butcher shop. Another building was charred to a husk. Carriages lay tipped on their sides in the middle of the street, many still attached to the carcasses of horses and oxen; some of the animals had strange protrusions: antlers and the nubs of new limbs. Blood splattered the stonework; black sludge congealed in the cracks of the cobbles.

Chaos and carnage, preserved in the eerie stillness of abandonment.

Faren swallowed hard. It was so much worse than he had been led to believe. Whatever had happened here had been a thing of nightmares. A cursed Fate.

“On your right, you’ll see a shopfront adorned with a lovely mural of blood,” Mariana said in an airy tone. “And on your left, a dead ox. Doesn’t its swollen body compliment the flower boxes?”

“What are you doing?”

She swept her free hand out in a grandiose gesture. “I’m giving you a tour.”

They’d come to a modest plaza, where a stone carving stood in its center: a swan with wings outstretched, its serpentine neck broken off.

“From here, we can explore the residential area,” Mariana said, pointing west, “or do a bit of window shopping,” she added, pointing south. “The bell tower offers a romantic view of the devastation.” With her back to Faren, she spread her arms, the tip of her sword stirring the fog. “If you see a particularly enticing nook or cranny, feel free to explorethoroughly.”

“Enough. Have some respect.”

Mariana faced him. He half expected her to continue with her callous bit, but when she met Faren’s gaze, her eyes were devoid of mirth. Hollow.

Ever since they’d met, Faren had thought her glib remarks were a sign of how little she cared, but the look she gave him now told a different story.

He thought, inexplicably, of his sister Beatrice, who had a habit of telling jokes at the most inopportune moments: awkward dinners with stuffy guests, the first time Eva had her heart broken, whenever their parents fought. It was her defense against emotions she did not wish to face, whether they be embarrassment, second-hand hurt, or instability.