Page 21 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Faren removed his horse’s barding and dumped the armor on the ground with a clatter. When he turned to face me, his breath clouded around his face in the chilly air. “Would it not be more efficient to share the labor?”

“I’d prefer not to interact more than we have to.”

“Then splitting tasks suits us both.”

“Fine,” I said. “Go hunt.”

“Would you prefer to—”

“Just go,” I interrupted.

He held out Sunny’s reins. “Will you—”

I snatched the loop of leather from his grasp, assuming control of his horse. “I’ll look after him.”

With no more than a grunt of acknowledgement, Faren tromped off into the trees. I watched him walk away, his bulk cutting a path through the underbrush. Once he’d disappeared, I turned to the horses. “Let’s get you sorted,” I murmured.

By the time Faren returned, the first stars were appearing in the twilit sky. The horses were free of tack, brushed, and grazing amiably on long tethers. I’d set out my bedroll and removed my armor and wrap, and was seated on a fallen log, warming my hands with the fire I’d built, while I waited for a pot I’d positioned on the coals to come to a boil.

When Faren appeared on the other side of the flames with a dead hare in hand, I looked up. “Well done,” I said. “You might just survive the night, after all.”

“No plans of murdering me in my sleep?”

“Lucky for you, I have no intention of breaking my Oath over a minor inconvenience.”

“Minor? You flatter me,” he replied, glancing at his gear, which I’d heaped in a messy pile on the edge of camp. “Thank you for tending to my things.”

“My pleasure.”

Without another word, Faren left the firelight. I stared at the flames, losing track of time, trying to find what little peace I could in the presence of another person. I much preferred traveling alone, where I didn’t have to sleep with a knife in hand or make conversation or be perceived at all. My favorite companions were my horse and the trees—nothing more.

A while later, Faren returned with a cleaned and skewered rabbit. He’d also removed his armor and weapons. Underneath the cloak draped over his shoulders, he wore a dark green shirt, the laces at the neckline undone to reveal a smattering of chest hair. I watched the ends of the laces dangle over the fire as he leaned forward to set the rabbit over the flames, almost disappointed when he sat back without being singed.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Faren began, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands. He appeared rather serious, but I couldn’t tell whether or not it was an act. When I did not respond, he went on. “My Order can foster a degree of pretension at times, which does the realm a disservice.”

“How big of you,” I responded, sarcastic, even though…well, it did sound like a sincere acknowledgement, and I couldn’t remember the last time someone had offered me one.

“And I was wrong to generalize the knights in your Order,” he added.

“You weren’t wrong. We’re all criminals.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean you’re all past the point of redemption.”

“Few of us care about redeeming ourselves in the eyes ofyourLord.”

Faren met my eyes across the flames; his shone like amber gems in the firelight, filled with question and challenge. “Why not?”

“I can’t speak for the others, but I do not respect the Lord.”

“Why not?”

“Because he does not deserve my respect.” Faren opened his mouth, but I talked over him. “And for Fate’s sake, don’t ask me ‘Why not?’ again. If you can’t see it, you’re beyond help.”

Ignoring the way his brow creased, I reached for the simmering pot, using a wooden spoon to stir its contents. The beans emitted an earthy, sweet smell that made me salivate; it was a simple recipe, but one I made often.

While I stirred, it occurred to me that Faren might notknowthat Lord Haron was responsible for the creation of the Morta. Mighty Knights were supposed to be privy to the inner workings of their territory’s politics, but it was in the Lord’s best interest to keep his corruption close to his chest. Attempting to create an army of impossibly strong knights to oppose the King of Marona, only to have the poor souls transform into abominations, necessitating the creation of the Order of the Valiant just to keep them in check, was not necessarily a blunder that would inspire loyalty. Even among the knights who were in favor of Fenrir’s freedom from Marona.

Faren, for all his faults, did not seem like the sort of man to take kindly to such a heinous revelation about the Lord he served—but monsters aside, Lord Haron was still a petulant, dishonorable worm, and if Faren could not overlook his general odiousness, I wasn’t sure the Morta would tip the scale.