Page 90 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“You haven’t threatened anyone. Your quips aren’t as cruel.” He leaned forward, fixing his blue-green eyes on me. “Could that have something to do with the man upstairs?”

“Even I know that it’s rude to threaten a groom on the eve of his wedding—but I’ll do it,” I warned.

Idris sat back again, chuckling.

“You’re softer, too,” I pointed out.

“I am,” he agreed.

My mind returned to Grinnick. As a boy, he had looked out for Idris, caring for him after their father died and their mother left. It’s why he’d turned to thieving in the first place, how he’d fallen in with the wrong sort of crowd. We’d bonded over that sense of desperation and responsibility. Grinnick and I were among the few in the Valiant who sent reward money home to loved ones, instead of pissing it away on ale and prostitutes.

Grinnick had spoken about his little brother so much that by the time Idris took Grinnick’s place in the Valiant, I felt like I already knew him. Of course, by then, whatever connection Idris and I might’ve cultivated had already been severed. I didn’t blame him for hating me over what happened to Grinnick; I hated myself for it, too.

“I still miss him,” I murmured.

Idris didn’t ask of whom I spoke; he already knew. “Me too.”

I stared at the dazzling orange glow within the coals, my cheeks hot. “He would be happy for you,” I said thickly. “Happy to see you settled.”

Idris laid a hand over his heart, tapped it twice. “I like to think he knows.”

I licked my lips, gulped more ale, and faced him. “I never said sorry to you, for what happened,” I rushed out. “I failed him. I failed you. I…” My voice went high, and I broke off. I’d failed myself, too, but Idris probably didn’t care about that.

“Why did you run?” he asked. “When you saw him cut down. Why didn’t you stay?”

“There’s no excuse.”

“I want to hear your logic.”

There was a lump in my throat—hot as the coals in the fire—but I forced myself to speak around it. “I was young and afraid, barely surviving,” I began. “He kept stepping out of line and I couldn’t stop him—his rebelliousness was starting to endanger me, too. So, when he was cut down…I had a split second tochoose: him, or safety. That kind of fear makes a person do selfish things.”

What I didn’t tell him was that I also hadn’t wanted to watch Grinnick bleed out in my arms. I hadn’t wanted to face my failure to protect him. It had been selfish of me to run, impossible for me to stay, and agonizing either way.

I shook my head, knocking an errant tear loose. I swiped it away, hoping Idris see. “He loved you very much.”

“He loved you, too,” Idris replied.

It was an accusation, a gift. It fed a flood of grief in my chest, dousing the heat of my emotions, and I let out a watery breath. “It feels like a dream, what we had. Hazy. Unreal. Too good to last.” My chuckle was brittle. “We didn’t stand a chance.”

“Why do you say that?”

I gestured at the room, the circumstances, the man missing from our lives. “Love is a weakness to be exploited.”

Idris was quiet for a while. Contemplative. “I used to believe that, too,” he said finally. “But here’s what I didn’t know before I met Anya. The Valiant, the monsters, the Lord…love is theonlything that can overcome the evils of this world.”

“You really believe that?”

“You’ve seen me here.” Idris finished his ale. Stood. Stretched. Wicker roused, too, attuned to his master’s movements. “Do you think I could believe anything else?”

I shook my head, knocking loose another tear—and letting Idris see it this time.

It seemed to alight something in him. “Go upstairs, Mariana,” he said with a smile. “Go challenge your beliefs.”

I wanted to argue with him. To tell him that whatever he thought I felt for Faren, he was wrong. That even if Ididfeel something, Faren was the type of person I could never have: kind, steady, humorous, principled. Far toogoodfor a rogue like me.

But in spite of our history and shared grief, Idris and I didn’t know each other well enough for a conversation like that. So I leaned back in my chair, settling into the plush upholstery. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

There was pity in his smirk. “Sure, you don’t.”