Page 29 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Faren scoffed. “I don’t understand you.”

“You don’t have to,” Mariana replied tartly. “In fact, it’s better you don’t bother trying.”

For reasons he couldn’t grasp, he wanted to protest that statement. But she was right. She was here to be his guide; he was here to assess Yar and uncover her secrets; mutual understanding was irrelevant. And yet he stared down at her anyway, trying to solve the mystery of her in his mind.

Faren had, for the better part of the past four days, spent his time learning what he could about Mariana. He’d discovered that she was surprisingly fastidious; that she generally conducted herself with an air of gruff stoicism; that her blades were sharp, but her wit was sharper; that she was smart, and capable, and starved of any indulgence. He wascertainthat there was more to her than what she would have him believe—more nuance than simply sword skills and contempt.

As they stood there, glaring at each other, the rain misted around them, plinking off their armor and gradually soaking their hair. A wavy strand had stuck to Mariana’s forehead, and when she reached up to brush it out of her face, he noticed her new gloves. Barely a quarter of an hour ago, while Faren had gathered his things in the barn, Mariana had donned Orna’s gift.The sight of her wearing them now made Faren reconsider the undulations of Mariana’s foul mood this afternoon—and find the nuance he sought.

Because her usual curtness had only become harsh upon the mention of the monsters. He himself had been alarmed to feel the sensation of his Oath’s warning when the conversation had skated too close to the truth.Boththeir Orders bound them to carry the secrets of the realm, and come to think of it, Mariana had seemed visibly bothered—angry, even—after lying to the homesteaders about rabid wolves.

Faren recalled what his friends had told him about her history.A farm girl, Shae had called her.

“Poverty,” Faren said slowly, delicately, “is not a sign of corruption in our Lord. It happens everywhere.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Faren,” Mariana said, stomping off.

He followed, his long legs easily catching up to her. “You think there aren’t taxes and famines and hardships in other territories? And what of Marona’s role in our—”

“I’m done talking about this with you.”

“I’m not done talking about it with you,” Faren said. “What about our Lord is so corrupt?”

Mariana picked up her pace, tromping through the overgrown grass.

“Do you truly believe that I am incapable of thinking for myself?” Faren pressed.

“Don’t be insulted,” Mariana replied. “You aren’t unique. All Mighty Knights are like that. It’s a requirement.”

You aren’t unique. He was ashamed of how precisely the comment hit a nerve. “We arerequiredto hold nothing in higher regard than the realm—”

“—exactly—”

“—including our Lord,” Faren finished smugly. “It’s in the Oath.”

Mariana eyed him. Her cheeks were redder now from the exertion, making her severe features appear softer. Faren slowed his pace slightly, allowing her a more comfortable walking speed—or rather, more breath with which to spew insults at him.

“You truly believe we are trained not to question authority?” Faren asked. “Not to think on our own?”

“Yes.”

“We’re trained to act with honor, compassion, bravery—”

“And compliance,” she cut in, and…she wasn’t wrong. That was in his Oath, too. “I’ve met a lot of Mighty Knights in my day, Faren,” she went on. “Most of you are overconfident, self-important, and more concerned with lofty ideals and status thanactuallyserving the realm. How often do you even step foot outside the castle grounds?”

Faren clenched his jaw. Hadn’t he applied for this mission in part because he was bored of the same training sessions, shifts, and bland tasks day in and day out? Did he and his friends not flex their confidence and expertise whenever they could? He did not consider himself pompous, but were his ideals notlofty?

Fates, he’d spent all that time trying to figure Mariana out…not realizing thatshealready had him pinned.

“You must see how childish and vindictive Lord Haron can be,” she continued, not bothering to even glance in Faren’s direction as she brought into question his entire existence. “You must see it and yet you choose to look the other way. Loyalty, morality,duty, whatever you want to call it,” she said, “I don’t think you’d be willing to accept his corruption even if it struck you upside the head.”

“Try me,” Faren challenged. “Show me your proof.”

Mariana opened her mouth, but whatever she’d been about to say seemed to wither. She let out a short, strangled cough,her steps faltering. Was it possible her Oath did not permit her to voice her retort? Was it possible that she—a knight of theValiant—knew something about Lord Haron that Faren was notallowedto hear?

Or was she simply full of shit?

It was time Faren regain the upper hand; he decided to take a bolder approach. “The Mighty are onto you, you know,” he said. “We know about the rebellion.”