Page 146 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“Phina,” the female ledgermaster said, and it was clear in her voice that she trusted the Adept of Alchemy. “What is the meaning of—”

“He did this,” Phina stated, pointing, and I noticed then that the Oath tattoo around her wrist was no longer a perfect ring, but broken.

Twenty feet from where we all knelt, the Morta had paused, standing at attention before Lord Haron, who was still perched atop a table. He swung his arm in our direction, then spoke. I was no sound magician—I couldn’t hear him over the gruesome cacophony of the battle—but I knew an order when I saw one.

The Morta pinned us with its red eyes.

“He did this,” Phina reiterated to the ledgermasters. “You’re our only hope. He must be stopped. Sever him. Now.”

I shoved the Ledger of the Sovereign into the ledgermasters’ laps. With shaking hands, they opened the book, flipping through the delicate pages until they found the page they sought.

“This will take time,” the male ledgermaster said, eyes flicking to the Morta once again heading our way.

I rocked back on my heels, rising to my feet. “I’ll make time.”

“I’m coming with you,” Faren said, brandishing his swords.

“You’ll break your Oath,” I protested. Mine had not snapped yet, but it was already as good as broken, just by participating in the Valiant rebellion. But Faren—his Oath mattered to him. I knew he wanted to keep it for his future, for the realm, and as much as I wished he felt differently, I didn’t want to corner him into doing something he didn’t want. Especially on my behalf. “You don’t have to, Faren.”

“I can still help, if I—”

An arrow whizzed past us, a warning shot that pinged off a marble column and clattered along the floor.

“Heris,” we said in tandem.

The Valiant Leader was making his way toward us from the left, flanked by Castor, Brom, and four former Morta. Seeing their trajectory, Lord Haron dismounted his table, rushing our way from the right with his own loyalists in tow. In addition to the Morta lumbering ever closer, the sight of both our leaders closing in—our oppressors, these would-be tyrants—felt like being trapped inside a collapsing building, with bricks and stones crumbling all around us.

Warner put it into words: “Fucking Fates, this is bad.”

My breaths came shallow, as if I were being crushed by falling rubble. Familiar callouses scraped mine as Faren clasped my hand. The touch was an anchor, a shield, a pause in which to think.

“Keep them away from the ledgermasters,” I told the Mighty Knights. “I’ll take the Morta.”

“Surely you can’t fight that on your own,” Warner said protectively, doubtfully.

“She can,” Faren countered. “Phina, see if you can flag down your brother.” The alchemist nodded an affirmative, and then Faren looked at me again—tender and weighty, as if he were about to say more—but he was cut off by the Morta’s shriek.

With my heart thudding in my mouth, I turned, meeting the monster with my sword ablaze.

51

Severing

Faren

When Faren had joined the Mighty, he’d wanted to become a hero. He’d imagined himself courageous and revered. Righteous and powerful. Purposeful and fair. He’d imagined glory.

But as he watched Mariana engage with a monster of twice her height and strength, backdropped by clashing knights and burning curtains and the glittering shards of broken glass—not for glory or duty, but for the good of the realm, selfless, gallant, and unstoppable—Faren finally understood the true meaning of heroics.

Mariana was everything he wanted to be, but better.

His heart throbbed in his ears as he tore his attention away from her, back to Heris and Lord Haorn closing in from opposite sides of the room. Igniting his twin shortswords, he gave each weapon a swing, relishing the heat of the flames whooshing past his face. Warner took a wide stance beside him, his own sword lit up with red Oath fire.

“Captain?” his friend prompted, eyeing the gold-clad knights advancing with Lord Haron. Familiar faces, now their enemies. “Are we doing this at all costs?”

The implication in his question was clear: what of their Oaths?

“We protect the ledgermasters,” Faren reiterated.