Page 11 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Oderin’s smile did not quite reach his eyes. “Uncover the secrets of the Valiant, Faren, and I’ll submit your name for promotion.”

5

Reputation

Faren

Autumn was upon Fenrir City like a wolf on a lamb, quietly stalking the streets with icy teeth and a coat made of gray fog.

Conversely, the air was hot inside Fenrir’s Ire. Faren had already cast his cloak aside, the heat of so many bodies chafing his skin. The hearth was blazing, the flames casting strange shadows on walls hung with old portraits and the silver flashes of mounted swords and axes. He and his fellows sat at a table in the center of the room, too many chairs crowded round. Empty pints littered the table’s surface, along with the remaining scraps of a loaf of bread and a plate with the last scrapings of herb butter.

Lee and Shae were at it again, debating the rumors that Maronan spies had infiltrated the Collegium. Faren was only half listening, distracted by the events of the day, as well as a gaggle of drunk Lawful Knights at the other end of the pub, arm in arm, singing along with a bard’s jaunty tune. It was just beginning to set in that with tomorrow’s departure, Faren wouldbe leaving the luxuries of the castle: camping under the stars, riding through poor weather, hunting for his own food, and sharing the company of a woman he loathed.

She was the fly in his salve, the raincloud on his sunny day, the mold in his bread. She made a highly honorable opportunity feel like an inconvenience—and they weren’t even on the road yet.

“Enough debates,” Warner complained, his voice a little too loud, words slightly slurred. He raised his tankard in Faren’s direction, foam sloshing down the side. “We’re here to celebrate our fellow, after all.”

Shae briefly scowled in the direction of the singing—the rowdy voices must’ve been an affront to her sound magic—then raised her mug, too. “Yes. Congratulations on spending the next few weeks sleeping on the ground in the rain. I couldn’t be happier for you.”

“You’ll be a captain in no time,” Lee added.

Faren threw back the last of his ale. “Captain Hayward,” he said. “Has a nice ring to it, no?”

“No,” Shae said, laughing into her cider.

“You’ll miss me,” Faren insisted, shoving her upper arm.

She shoved him back. “If you get eaten by an abomination and never return, yes, I suppose I’d grow to miss you,” she replied. “However, I look forward to a temporary respite from your self-important do-gooding.”

“Youdomake us look bad,” Warner added, but his eyes were creased with cheer.

“Think not of abominations,” Lee said. “Whenyou return, the Major will no doubt reward your triumph.”

“Hear, hear!” Warner hooted, hefting his tankard and drinking deep.

A knight with strawberry-blonde hair—fresh off a shift, still wearing her golden armor—paused beside their table. Mara wasa new recruit, a graduate of the group Faren had helped train this past spring.

She placed a pint on the table in front of him. “I heard you’re drinking for free tonight. Condolences, perhaps?”

“The journey will be perilous, but nothing I can’t handle,” Faren assured her.

She took a sip of her own pint, her pert nose scrunching in a grimace. “I heard about your travel companion.”

Shae leaned forward. “Who is it?”

Mara looked at Faren. His orders had not specified a need to keep Mariana’s involvement undisclosed; as a rule, there were few secrets among the Mighty. With a smile, he extended a hand at Mara, bidding she continue.

Mara dropped her voice. “Mariana Bellkeep, right?”

Shae swore. “That explains why I saw her storming through the courtyard earlier.”

“Who’s that?” Warner asked, reaching for Lee’s unfinished tankard and claiming it for his own.

The sight magician’s forehead creased, but not—it seemed—because of his pilfered ale. “She’s a Valiant Knight.”

Shae rested her arm along the back of Lee’s chair, swiveling her attention toward Faren. “Why didn’t you mention thatshewas the one escorting you?”

Faren spread his hands in an easy, shrug-like gesture. He supposed that talking about Mariana made the situation seem like more of an ordeal than it was; it gave her too much credit. He didn’t want the topic to sour his excitement.