Page 138 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“Good.” The knight glanced at the ceiling, as if pondering the floors above. “I’ll be needed upstairs. Can you see yourself out?”

I nodded. “Careful on your way up. There are knights—Valiant allies—standing watch. They’re strange, with altered bodies and considerable strength.” It had been easy for Heris to convince the former Morta to march on Fenrir—for revenge, for freedom—and after that demonstration in Kelebraim, it hadn’t taken much to rally the Valiant army. “They don’t speak, but they understand; you’ll do best to talk your way past them.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Hayward warned us of that possibility.”

“About the knights?”

“Their strength.”

I cocked my head. “How did he learn that?”

“A source in Waldron,” the knight replied. “He wouldn’t specify.”

My mind went immediately to Noble. He must’ve experienced an increase in strength from Hattie’s cure, too.So why didn’t his Oath remain intact, when the others’ had?My gaze slid to the hall of books again; perhaps my answer was in there.

I fiddled with the keys. “Thank you,” I told the knight.

His nod was friendly. “See you up there.” His armor clinked as he left me behind, heading back the way I’d come by the light of his own weapon’s fire.

Once he’d disappeared around the bend, I lit a proper lantern and replaced my sword in its sheath. Then I strode into the Library of Ledgers.

The library had not changed much since I was a child. Vaulted ceilings. Massive marble columns. Shelves upon shelves of thick books encased in iron cages. In spite of my countlessrelocationsof Lord Haron’s precious Ledger of the Sovereign, it was always returned to the same place: upon the carved marble pedestal in the center of the library. The ledgermasters were foolishly particular about that.

The keys made more sense as I came upon the massive tome, though. Rather than being splayed open as it usually was, the Ledger of the Sovereign was closed and locked within iron. The worn cover was the color of a robin’s breast, and the strange lettering on the front was debossed in gold foil. Pastoral scenes—Fenriran hills, the Wend, poplars, and sheep—had been painted in fine detail on the edges of the pages, art that could only be appreciated when the tome was shut.

Many of the other Ledgers here were massive and thick, having been re-bound as more and more pages and names were added, with layers of paper in shades of ancient brown, to beige, to pristine ivory. But the Ledger of the Sovereign was of modest size and length, with no visible additions. There hadn’t been many Lords of Fenrir in the history of this territory; there was still plenty of room for more history to be written.

The size made it easy to steal.

After trying a few keys, the lock gave way with a click, freeing the Ledger from its paltry prison. Without ceremony, I tucked it under my arm and ventured deeper into the stacks, still not finished with my task.

The air was cold and musty in the back of the Library. Shadows abounded. The dust on the surrounding shelves was thick and undisturbed. As I stalked down the aisles, the foiledspines of the tomes flickered in the yellow light of the lantern. Eventually, I reached the section where the Ledgers of retired Orders were stocked. Reciting the alphabet in my head, I slowed as I reached theM’s.

Then I halted. Lifted the lantern a little higher. Stared.

There were…sevenLedgers of the Order of the Morta. Each possessed a mark on the spine denoting the volume number, and they were arranged from oldest to newest.

I had known that Lord Haron was just one in a long line of Fenriran rulers who’d sought to wiggle out from under Marona’s boot and become independent once again, but…seven attempts? Seven secret programs, where desperate men and women signed up to be experimented on. Seven iterations of tampering with the laws of nature—the laws ofFate—in an attempt to amass power.

It disgusted me.

I reached for the newest one, unlocking the cage. The book was fat with names, and I thumbed through it, searching for the confirmation I needed; eventually, I found the name I sought on the very last page:Noble Asheren. This iteration of the Order of the Morta had been around fordecades—long before Noble had taken the Oath—and based on how long the Valiant had been around, it was clear thatthiswas the Ledger that controlled the Morta I had been tasked to kill, then cure. The Morta whom Heris had convinced to take up arms against their creator, and who now served the Valiant’s cause.

But as I slid it into crook of my arm atop the Ledger of the Sovereign, cradling them close, my attention flicked back to the remaining volumes. I stared at the gap on the shelf I’d left, the smear in the dust.

A thought occurred. One I hated.

I doubled back, hurrying toward the section where the Ledgers of the active knighthoods were kept. Orders both publicly knownand secret were shelved together, a menagerie of purposes lined up side-by-side. Having come from deeper in the Library, I recited the alphabet backwards this time, dragging my finger along the edge of the shelves.

The Order of the Wise.

The Order of the Vengeful.

The Order of the Valiant—

With a furious pang in my sternum, I paused to smooth my thumb over the textured spine. It seemed so unassuming inside its iron cage upon the shelf, and yet this book…this book was responsible for immeasurable violence and suffering.

Mysuffering.