Page 144 of Fate's Wicked Oath
Battle waged around us with the harsh sounds of clanging metal and guttural screams. Yet Faren was looking at me like I was the only thing that existed.You have become my guiding star, he’d said in Brine.If this is doom, then I welcome it.
But I refused to be his doom.
“I won’t put you at risk,” I repeated, my voice weak and watery.
Light brown eyes widened with understanding. I expected to see hurt in his expression, but the only thing there was stubborn determination. “You think you can scare me off?”
My vision blurred. “You die at Castle Might. You die in this hall, don’t you?”
“Not today.”
“How do you know that?”
“Because I refuse to die today.”
I shook my head again, swayed by the vivid memory of black claws opening Grinnick’s belly. “Associating with me makes you a target to both tyrants. I would never forgive myself if I—”
“I am not Grinnick,” he said firmly. “Mariana, I will not allow anyone, past or present, to stand between us, and—”
A horrible roar ripped through the room, rattling the windowpanes. I tore my gaze from Faren, truly taking in the mayhem for the first time since I cleared the crowd of nobles.
Past the upturned banquet tables and broken chairs, the spilled food and broken dishes, far at the other end of the Great Hall, three strange-looking Morta were advancing in spite of an onslaught of human resistance. Unlike the Morta of the Western Wood, these were not wild and rampaging, but calculated; their movements were as strong and precise as highly trained knights.They must’ve been the culmination of Lord Haron’s scheming—Volume 8—and though I’d half expected to see something like this, the proof still turned my blood cold.
The abominations were slashing and snarling at a myriad of fighters: Valiant knights, former Morta, castle guards, and Lothgaimian Mighty. The Fenriran knights were split: either fighting the Valiant or hunched over their own knees, vomiting on the floor or clutching their heads in pain.
To our right, a nervous-looking retinue of guards were crowded around a lone table, atop which stood Lord Haron, his face nearly as red as his robes as he screamed commands. I couldn’t hear him over the din, but his words seemed to be slowing the Valiant’s army of former Morta, the remaining threads of their Oaths breaking as they defied the Lord’s orders and snapped their magical leashes. The rebels were lucky they could defy their Oaths more easily than the Mighty. This was as close to no consequences as they’d ever get—and it was clear by their vigor that they would not waste the opportunity.
Heris himself, however, was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t communicated much of his plan to me—not beyondsteal the Ledgers—but I knew he hadn’t accounted for these new Morta. With more resistance than he must’ve anticipated…where did that leave me?
I met Faren’s eyes again, my heart galloping in my chest. “The fuck is going on?”
“Chaos,” he replied. “Do you trust me?”
My attention darted to where a lone Mighty Knight was racing toward the Lord—no, past the Lord, toward a pair of cowering ledgermasters. They were huddled behind the Lord’s dining throne, which rested on its side among a scattered mess of decorative pillows. The weight of the Ledgers in my satchel seemed to grow heavier on my shoulder.
Faren shook my arm, getting my attention. “Ana, do you trust me?”
“I trust you,” I replied.
“Then we fight together, sweetheart,” he said. “You and me. Got it?”
There was no time to think, to doubt, to worry. All I could do was nod as Faren’s hope becamemineagain,ours—bold and determined and ours.
With my confirmation, he took my hand, yanking me in the direction of the ledgermasters.
“Heris has rightful claim,” Faren told me as we ran.
“Of the throne?”
“He didn’t tell you?”
I’d heard the rumors, but I’d never believed them. “My job was to steal the Ledger; I wasn’t made privy to the rest.”
“Do you have it?”
“We can’t swear him in,” I said through panting breaths. “We can’t let him rule over Fenrir, he’ll—”
“We aren’t swearing him in,” Faren said.
