Page 67 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“You mean to tell me that love is non-essential?” He tisked. “I don’t buy that. You love plenty of things. I’ve seen it myself.”

“Oh? And what have you seen?”

Faren’s arm—the one resting behind me—had shifted slightly. In my periphery, I saw his fingers toying with a strand of my hair. The contact seemed thoughtless, idle, but I couldn’t help but think that there was no such thing as accidental contact among touch magicians.

Even so, I pretended not to notice.

“For starters, you love your horse,” Faren began. “Your family, obviously. You love solitude. Wide open spaces. Dry socks. Breakfast pastries. The sun on your face.”

The backs of my eyes burned. I knew he’d been cataloguing my every move for the mission, but he’d truly gathered all that?

“You also love dressing me down,” Faren added.

My gaze dipped to the loose laces of his shirt, the traces of light brown chest hair. I had the sudden recollection of straddling his bare chest, waking him up with a threat—that hot, wide torso between my thighs.

“With insults, I mean,” he added, flushing.

“Right. I do love a verbal evisceration.” Desperate to move on from the innuendo, I asked, “What about you? Ever brought a woman home?”

“To my overprotective and scheming sisters and mother?” A snort. “My paramour would be better off facing a pack of wolves.”

“I can’t imagine you falling for someone who wasn’t formidable enough to face your family.”

“Whodoyou imagine me falling for?”

The covetous creature inside me was back, clawing at my chest, trying to tear its way out. I wondered how I might kill it.

“I’m imagining a maiden in pink,” I said. “That’s what every storybook hero wants, right?”

“Kieran might desire a damsel.” His voice was a low scrape as he held my gaze. “But I do not.”

My clothing felt suddenly too constricting. My face flamed. I chugged the rest of my cider, wincing at its overwhelming sweetness.

“The topic is moot, though,” Faren went on. “I have no plans of falling in love.”

“You told me in Yar that you’re a romantic.”

“Oh, I am,” he replied. “The problem is, when I love something, I love it all the way. There’s no room for that in Mighty Knighthood.”

“There’s no room for that inValiantKnighthood,” I argued. “There are plenty of Mighty Knights with paramours, families.”

He looked out at the pub, showing me his face in profile. Still, he continued to fiddle with my hair. “It’s hard enough putting the realm before my family,” he said. “I think if I ever fell in love for real…it would destroy my ability to do my duty. It would be ruinous.”

What a privilege it would be, I thought, rather unbidden,to ruin someone like him.

Faren huffed a laugh. Finished his ale. “Look at us, getting along,” he said, removing his arm from the back of the bench. “We must be more road-weary than we realized.”

“I blame the cider,” I said.

Faren tipped his head toward the bar. “Want another?”

25

It’s Mutual

Faren

In the wee hours of morning, Faren and Mariana exited the Lark with their armor and weapons strapped in place. The night was clear and harsh, with ice beneath their boots and a spray of stars overhead. Cold air stung Faren’s cheeks and burned his lungs, shocking him awake.