Page 53 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Faren

No sooner than Faren had let out a startled cough, Mariana’s mother had tugged her into a fierce embrace. Faren had never seen Mariana appearsoftbefore, but as she melted into her mother’s arms, the sharpness in her shoulders relaxed—just for a moment.

Then her mother pulled back, surveying her daughter. She touched Mariana’s cheek with the back of her hand, squeezed the water from a wet strand of Mariana’s hair, then tipped Mariana’s chin up with her thumb. Fussing, as only a mother could. “You appear to be in one piece.” Her voice was sonorous, pleased. “Are you?”

“I am.”

From somewhere inside the cottage, a male voice called, “Leera? Who is it?”

“It’s Ana,” Leera called back. Big, brown eyes flicked up to Faren. “And she brought aman.”

Floorboards creaked. Footsteps approached. An older gentleman appeared. He was shorter than Faren, barrel-chested,with a kind face that creased with relief at the sight of his daughter. “My dear Ana,” he murmured, bending to kiss Mariana’s temple. When he straightened, he eyed Faren with blatant curiosity. Snaking an arm around his wife, he whispered, “I thought you were joking about the man.”

Another male voice called from within the house. “Mariana’s here? With a man?”

“He’s not aman,” Mariana protested, scowling at Faren over her shoulder.

“Helookslike a man,” Leera teased. “A handsome one, at that.”

Flattered, Faren stood a little taller. Ran a hand through his sopping hair.

A younger gent of about thirty rounded the corner, further crowding the doorway. He bore an uncanny resemblance to Mariana: same eyes and mouth, but with shorter hair and a more masculine stature.

At the sight of Faren, he clapped a hand over his chest, staggering back with mock surprise. “That’s not just any man—look at his armor. That’s a Mighty Knight of Fenrir.” He made a show of peering past them into the dark. “Is the sky falling? Did the Mirrors shatter? Have the Fates abandoned us?” This must be Bard, Mariana’s brother. Faren would recognize brotherly goading anywhere.

Color blazed across Mariana’s cheekbones. “It’s not like that,” she grumbled through clenched teeth.

“Like what?” her brother asked innocently.

Faren—feeling magnanimous—decided to rescue Mariana from further questioning. He cleared his throat, getting the family’s attention. “Mr. and Mrs. Bellkeep.” He offered a respectful nod. “And Bard, I presume?” The younger manbeamed. “My name is Faren Hayward. You are correct about mystation in the Order of the Mighty. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Leera smirked at Mariana. “Heactslike a man, too.”

“Trust me, it comes and goes,” Mariana muttered.

Faren couldn’t help but smile, thoroughly amused by Mariana’s discomfiture.

Leera’s eyes sparkled. “Tell us, dear, why have you brought us a man—nay, aknight—at this hour?”

“He is irrelevant.” Mariana gestured behind her, toward where Orna and Pete waited unseen in the gloom. “I come with folks who need refuge. Homesteaders who suffered a fire and have been displaced. They’ve been waiting in the rain while you’ve been fixating onthe man.”

At her declaration, Leera gasped, Bard swore, and Mariana’s father reached for his coat. Mariana appeared wholly vindicated as her family sprang into action. She clipped Faren with her shoulder as she moved past him, heading back out into the rain.

Bard snickered as he followed his sister. “She doesn’t get defensive for no reason,” he whispered to Faren, lifting his hood as he stepped off the porch.

Faren didn’t know what to make of the comment—but there was no time to ask.

The next half hour was spent making rain-soaked introductions and bringing the homesteaders into their temporary refuge. Leera welcomed Orna into the cottage, her arm wrapped around the other woman’s shoulders, with Mariana trailing on their heels. Bard assisted Pete, allowing the injured older man to use him as a crutch.

Meanwhile, Mariana’s father braved the storm and mud with Faren, the two of them working swiftly to shelter the homesteaders’ wagon and animals in the Bellkeeps’ large barn. When that was done, they turned their attention to Simon and Sunny. The horses were stalled side by side, separated by a halfwall; Mariana’s father gave each horse a serving of oats, and the geldings munched happily as the men removed their tack.

“Name’s Horace, by the way,” Mariana’s father said, un-cinching Simon’s saddle.

Faren removed a piece of Sunny’s barding, setting the curved metal plate on the straw floor. “I’m sorry we aren’t meeting under better circumstances. I hope this isn’t an imposition.”

“Not at all. We have the means.” Horace draped Simon’s soaked saddle blanket over the partition between the stalls. For a few seconds, the barn filled only with the sound of the pounding rain on the roof and the rustling livestock. “Tell me: why is my daughter traveling with a Mighty Knight?”

“She was hand selected by Lord Haron to escort me on a mission,” Faren said. “I can’t divulge much more than that.”