Page 127 of Fate's Wicked Oath

The former Morta eyed the wood. Then, after a considerable pause, he crept toward it on claw-tipped hands and bruised knees. With a searching glance at the knight still looming over him, the man hefted the log into his lap. He began to squeeze, angling his elbows out, attempting to snap the wood as if it were a thin sapling instead of a hefty beam.

My breath caught in my throat as I waited, not believing that Heris’s demand could be possible.

Then, with a great splinteringcrack, the former Morta broke the log in half.

I, along with the rest of the watching knights, gasped.

Not only had Hattie discovered a cure, she’d succeeded in the Lord’s aim to create a soldier more powerful than the average knight. And unlike Noble—whose Oath had, for some mysterious reason, dissolved when he’d turned back into himself—this man’s Oath tattoo remained. Which meant his leash was still intact.

My attention lifted to Heris atop the steps. He stood with his feet wide, shoulders back, chin up—the posture of a ruler. Firelight flickered in his black breastplate. He was already looking at me, a cruel smile thinning his lips.

Suddenly I understood why Heris had gone to so much trouble to separate me from Faren and get me back to Kelebraim. It wasn’t my Morta-killing abilities he valued now. It was my talent for stealing Ledgers. Because whoever controlled the Ledger of the Order of the Morta controlled a power unlike the realm had ever seen before—and it was essential for the Valiant rebellion to remove that power from Lord Haron’s hands before he learned the truth and wielded it for himself.

45

Now What?

Faren

Major Oderin Farkept raked his fingers through his blond hair and let out a brief laugh. “Well done.”

Faren—who had been pacing the short length of his Major’s quarters—sank onto a wooden chair in the corner. He’d just told Oderin all he’d learned about the Lord’s corruption (which Oderin confirmed he already knew) and the Valiant’s efforts to cure Morta for their rebellion, noting the superior strength the former knights likely possessed (which Oderin had not known, eliciting numerous profane exclamations and vows to speak with his alchemist sister).

The relief of getting it all off his chest deflated Faren.

“I knew I could count on you to figure it out,” Oderin added.

Months ago, the praise would’ve uplifted Faren; at present, it barely registered.

His leg ached. His body ached. His heart ached. After riding a day in the opposite direction of his destination to deliver Bard to his family and see that he was alright—battered and bruised, but alright—Faren had ridden hard for Fenrir City. His pace hadbeen ruthless, grueling. Seven days of suppressing the pain of his injury had left him hollow and exhausted. Arriving here without Mariana alongside him…

Faren placed his elbows on his knees, head in his hands. “I didn’t figure it out,” he said to the floor. “If it weren’t for Mariana, I wouldn’t’ve learned a damned thing.”

The desk on the other side of the small room groaned. When Faren looked up, Oderin was leaning against it, arms folded across his muscular chest. “A knight of lesser character wouldn’t’ve believed the truth. It isn’t easy, learning you’ve been loyal to a lie. It takes humility to change.”

Oderin’s favorable statement was similar to what Mariana had told him. Even coming from the two knights Faren respected the most in the world, he still found it hard to take the compliment to heart. Not when he’d been complicit for so long.

“You chose me on purpose, then,” Faren confirmed. “This whole time, youintendedfor me to…”

“Yes.”

Faren was buoyed by a wave of weary gratitude. “Thank you,” he grunted.

“You don’t sound particularly pleased.”

“It’s been a long fucking journey.”

“I’m afraid the journey is just beginning,” Oderin replied on a sigh.

The Major’s hair was mussed, his jaw fuzzed with days-old stubble, his white shirt wrinkled. Faren had barely looked at Oderin when he burst in and started talking, but now, the Major’s rumpled state was all he could see. Either Oderin had gotten laid last night, or something was afoot at Castle Might…and Oderin did not appear sated enough for the former.

“What’s wrong?” Faren asked. “You look…”

Oderin raised an eyebrow. “I look…?”

Faren winced. “Disheveled.”

“Why, thank you,” Oderin preened, his eyes bright with mirth. “That means a lot, coming from you.”