Page 117 of Fate's Wicked Oath

You, he couldn’t bring himself to say. He was afraid of how much he’d mean it, how consuming it might become. He already felt like holding her in his arms was not enough for how much he wanted her.

“I want to fulfill my duty,” he answered instead. “I want to make a difference.”

She traced his stubbled cheek with her fingers, eyebrows creasing for a reason he couldn’t quite guess. “You want to keep your Oath.”

“If I broke it now, I’d trigger the Ledger and alert the Lord.”

“I know that,” she said carefully. “But later…after all this…if we succeed…why not retire? Why stay tethered to the place where your Fate runs out?”

“I can’t outrun my Fate, Mariana,” he said simply. “Besides, my Oath isn’t like yours. It’s not a punishment; it’s a privilege. It guides me and grounds me. It’s who I am.” He cupped the lean muscle of her upper arm, his thumb grazing the scar on her bicep. “My hope, at the end of all this, is to install a new ruler who is more deserving and kind. To find purpose and value in my charge once again and make my Fatematter. I want…” He slid his hand down her arm and twined his fingers with hers. “I want the things that I love to be safe.”

“The realm?” she clarified, sounding almost disappointed. “That’s what you love most, right?”

“Right,” he stated—and for the first time in his life, it felt, strangely, like a lie.

42

Unhappy Fortunes

Mariana

Hope was a flimsy feeling.

It felt like a spider’s web strung up in my chest, constructed of gossamer thread. I feared the slightest breeze would tear through it like it was nothing, but as Faren and I traveled north toward Fenrir City—through sunflower fields and fallow meadows, sharing a tent when it rained and snuggling close under clear and starlit skies, talking and laughing and touching within the private glow our campfire—my hope, miraculously, held strong.

I’m on your side, he’d said, and those words…they were words I’d always longed to hear. Words of trust, commitment, loyalty—not to a plan or duty or selfish aim, but tome. Not transactional, but a choice. They had expanded something in my chest. Warmth. Or air. Or something more tangible. A feeling so expansive and all consuming that it scared me. Because how could it be true, when Faren had other duties and loyalties to concern himself with? When he couldn’t put anything—or anyone—above the realm?

And yet, I wanted to believe him.

And yet, Ihoped.

So, I paid less attention to the looming threat of my faction trailing us, and the potions I’d have to deliver, and the potential disaster awaiting us at Castle Might. I focused, instead, on the prettier outcomes we might achieve by the end of all this, bolstered by the knowledge that I was no longer alone in my efforts. Perhaps I was foolish for entertaining Faren’s plan, but his confidence emboldened me. My freedom—and a more fortunate future beyond—seemed more possible than ever.

“What is your Fated Fortune?” I asked Faren on a sunny afternoon four days from Fenrir City. “I don’t think you ever told me.”

We were riding side by side on the High Road. Faren had been whistling softly, mimicking bird calls, and the air through his lips trailed off in a falling note.

“What made you think of that?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I was thinking about the future and realized I only knew the sad part of yours,” I replied. “I want to know the happy part.”

Faren gave me a pinched look. “I’m afraid my Fortune isn’t particularly happy, either.”

“No?”

His shook his head, a soft lock of hair falling across his brow. “My vision in the Mirror of Fortune is the same as my Mirror of Death.” A pause. “Fates, Mariana, don’t make that face—it’s gutting.”

I lifted a hand to my mouth, not realizing the horror that’d crept into my expression. His phrasing only made it worse.

“Guttingwas an unfortunate choice of words,” Faren added with a wince.

The thought of Faren’s death sent a spear of grief though my chest—one that was painfully familiar. I hated its inevitability.Its irony. “How do you live with such a terrible Fate looming over your head all the time?” I asked, my voice thin.

“As I told you before, I die with purpose,” Faren said. “To know that my actionsmatterin the end might not be as comforting as a death by old age, but at least I know that there’s some good in it. It’s far preferable to the poor folks who live knowing they’ll die by some meaningless accident.”

The tearing sensation in my chest worsened, my magic latching onto the emotion to bring it to life. I buried my face in my hands, trying to shut out the terrible thoughts as I breathed through the discomfort. I didn’t want to lose Faren; I didn’t want to care about him as much as I did;whyhad I allowed myself to get close to another man destined to die? At least with Grinnick, I hadn’t seen it coming.

Faren’s saddle creaked. Moments later, I felt him squeeze my knee comfortingly. When I dropped my hands from my face to look at him, his mouth was hitched up in a playful smile.