Page 8 of Fate's Wicked Oath

With a flourish of his colorful robes, the Lord came to his feet, his face pinched as if he’d smelled something foul. “You are dismissed.”

I spun on a heel, eager to escape the stifling heat and tedious conversation. My ribs ached from three days of hard riding, endless jostling. The journey’s grime—ash, road dust, horse dander—made my skin feel oily, itchy, suffocated. I was lookingforward to soaking in a tub of hot water for the rest of the evening.

But before I escaped, a hand closed around my wrist. It was big, warm, calloused, and unnecessarily firm. The distinctive lilt of Faren’s Lothgaimian accent was especially prominent as he snarled in my ear, “Don’t fuck this up for me.”

“Not to worry,” I whispered sweetly. “I’m sure you’ll have no trouble fucking it up all on your own.”

4

Morals

Faren

Mariana? Really?” Faren asked, pacing the woven rug in Oderin’s quarters. “I am deeply grateful for the opportunity, Major, but I must—”

“How well do you know Mariana?” Oderin was leaning against the stone windowsill, arms crossed over his chest. He’d removed his breastplate the moment they entered, hanging it on a rack by the bolted door. It seemed to watch over them now, a third presence in the room.

Faren halted, not wanting his frustrated energy to come across as nervous. “I know her well enough not to trust her.”

Oderin snorted. “Distrust is a given for the Valiant. They’re criminals.”

Disdainwas more like it, but Faren didn’t want to offend. One of Oderin’s closest friends was a Valiant Knight, and Faren admired Oderin’s tolerance, his willingness to see the world with subtlety. But Faren found it hard to bring any nuance to his opinion of Mariana.

They’d first met six years ago, at a Unity Ceremony put on at Castle Might.

The celebration was part of a long tradition among the Seven Territories of the Kingdom of Marona, where royals visited neighboring capitals for a week of celebration. There were games among both territories’ knights, grand feasts for the Lords and their inner circles, matchmaking balls for young nobility, tournaments, parades, and general merriment in the host city. That year, Fenrir was hosting Lothgaim, and Faren’s family—as members of Lothgaim’s upper crust—were in attendance.

The Haywards were boisterous and adoring, with a fierce loyalty not just to their kin, but the kingdom. Faren was the third child out of six, with a pensive older brother and four unruly sisters. He had joined the Mighty of Fenrir to set himself apart, seeking a role where his Lothgaimian connections wouldn’t make him doubt what he had earned. But he’d missed his family greatly and had been looking forward to showing them what he had accomplished on his own. No favors, no advantages, justhim, proving his worth.

Mariana ruined the reunion.

Per the tenets of their Oath, Valiant Knights spent most of their time patrolling the Western Wood and the surrounding countryside, but occasionally, individuals were summoned to the castle to deliver reports or train new recruits. The same week as the Unity Ceremony, Mariana had been randomly selected to hail to the castle. Her arrival had interrupted a feast and quickly escalated into a brawl with one of the other knights. Faren had entered the fray and ended up covered in squash pie, with a bruised ego and a black eye. His parents had been embarrassed, his sisters had mocked him mercilessly, and he’d been reprimanded by Lord Haron for contributing to the disturbance.

His subsequent encounters with Mariana were less dramatic, but still disastrous, usually a result of her volatility and Faren stepping in to contain the damage. The last time they’d run into each other—just a few months ago—she’d willingly allowed a knight infected with monster blood into the heart of Fenrir City. Then, she’d had the gall to scoldFarenwhen he insisted they dispatch the poor fellow before he succumbed to his affliction and put innocent civilians at risk.

Faren was no stranger to a feral level of recalcitrance—he had four sisters, after all—but Mariana’s lack of respect for the people and realm they both served went too far. He was prepared to die for his charge—the Mirrors had guaranteed it—and he was determined to make a difference before that day came. Mariana’s insolence was an affront to his entire life’s purpose.

Yet the part that he found truly unsettling about her was the uncertainty she brought about in himself. He could not for the life of him understand the code by which she lived, and that made her unpredictable. Not to mention the fact that she often outmatched him in wit and fortitude. Faren had a strong sense of right and wrong, of purpose and duty, but for some inexplicable reason, Mariana made him…falter.

“What I said in the throne room was true,” Oderin said, breaking through Faren’s thoughts. “Mariana’s familiarity with Morta is unmatched. I know she can be…difficult at times—”

Faren scoffed.

“—but she will be an asset to you in the Western Wood.”

Faren had read plenty of reports about the Morta—vicious and terrible creatures, which spawned in the cursed geothermal pools outside the ruins of Kelebraim—but he’d never seen one in the flesh. They might’ve ravaged Yar-on-Gray, but Faren was not a civilian—he was a Mighty Knight, highly trained for battle.

As if reading his thoughts, Oderin added, “The Morta are worse than your worst nightmares.” The look of gravity on his face was at odds with his usual congeniality. “Mariana understands their movement patterns and weaknesses, and her Oath will require her to guide you honorably.”

Faren raised a brow.

“Well, perhaps nothonorably.” A knowing smile. “But she probably won’t double-cross you.”

“If you weren’t my Major, I’d question your optimism,” Faren quipped.

Oderin chuckled. “I wouldn’t call it optimism, just a basic understanding of Oaths and instinct.” He pushed off the windowsill and stood tall; with his blond hair, tan skin, and large frame, Oderin was the picture of Mighty glory. “Look, Faren. You are an exemplary Mighty Knight. I am glad you submitted your name for this mission and that the Lord took my recommendation. I have faith that you will be able to navigate Mariana’s mercurial nature with dexterity.”

Faren dipped his chin, both humbled and bolstered by the compliment. “Thank you, Major Farkept.”