Page 34 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“Are you admitting that I wasright?”

“I am as shocked as you are,” Faren said blandly.

His armor clattered against the curved walls as he made his way upward. Welts were already forming on his sun-kissed cheeks, and his face was flushed. As much as I enjoyed showering him with Mighty Knight slander, I empathized with the fear he must’ve felt during our brief fight with the wolves. No innocent person deserved to face such horrors—few of the guilty did, either—and I doubted Faren had encountered an abomination before.

He’d kept his composure better than I expected.

At the top of the tower, we came upon a closed hatch in the ceiling of the stairwell. The steps led all the way up to it, as if they continued beyond. Faren reached up to unhook the latch, but when he pushed against the door, it wouldn’t budge. Bracing his feet on the upper steps, Faren shoved against the hatch with his shoulder, grunting as he threw his weight against the wood. With a squeal of rusted hinges, it burst open with a rush of cool night air.

Faren poked his head out and glanced around. Then he jerked, emitting a garbled sound as he flailed his arms. A small creature—a squirrel or rat, definitely cursed—clung to his upper arm, angling to bite his neck. It squeaked and hissed as Faren tried and failed to shake it loose.

I moved quickly, drawing a dagger from my thigh holster and wedging myself through the hole in the ceiling. It took a mere moment to skewer the tiny abomination, pinning it with my dagger against the back of the hatch door.

“Fuck,” Faren said, his breath gusting over the crown of my head.

We were breastplate to breastplate, face to face. I felt him shudder against me, his nervous energy permeating the metal between us.

It was a squirrel, I noted. I removed my blade from its head, sheathed my dagger, and—gritting my teeth against the ache in my ribs—pulled myself the rest of the way through the hole. Faren extinguished his sword and followed me up, surprisingly agile despite the cramped space.

We found ourselves on a stone walkway, hemmed in by a chest-high balustrade. The walk encircled the hollow chamber in which the bell hung, and the tower’s openwork spire pierced the clouds above our heads.

I peered out at the moonlit town. We could see the entirety of Yar-on-Gray from our perch. The river meandered to our right, shrouded in low fog. Thatched and shingled rooftops lined the labyrinthine streets. The cobblestones—fitted together like snake scales—were mottled with gore. From this high up, the swan statue in the town square appeared no larger than my thumbnail, nor did the wolves that continued to pace at the base of the bell tower.

Faren rested his forearms on the stone railing beside me and let out a long sigh.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I’m feeling the romance already,” he deadpanned. “Nothing like cursed wolves circling our hideout to get me in the mood.”

“Makes perfect sense to me,” I said. “Lust for life, and all that.”

His short laugh seemed genuine. “You think they’ll give up anytime soon?”

I shrugged. “Hard to say. Sometimes I think the curse makes them smarter—or, at least, more dogged in their pursuit. They aren’t as predictable as normal animals.”

Faren’s gaze lifted to the rooftops, the river, the forest beyond. While his eyes traced the landscape, mine tracedhimwith a curious impulse: the prominent apple in his throat, the masculine dimple in his chin, the suppleness of his lips.

During our first few days on the road, I’d tried not to observe him too closely. He was far too pleasant to look upon, more like a storybook character than a tangible man. I’d relished the idea of his hair mussed, face dirty, and now, I had it: grime and gore smeared across his armor, welts freckling his face, a careless stubble on his jaw. I noticed other imperfections, too: smile lines around his eyes, a bump in the bridge of his nose from where it must’ve been broken and reset. To my dismay, I found that the filth and flaws made his appearance even more pleasing. They stripped away the fairytale and made him lookreal.

Somehow, that was worse.Muchworse.

When Faren caught me staring, he frowned. “What? Do I have something on my face?”

“Just a bit of caustic ichor,” I replied. “Not to worry, you still look as gallant as ever.”

“Was that a compliment?”

I stared out at the town and trees. “I think the ambiance is getting to me.”

“Mariana,” Faren drawled, feigning shock. “Are you a romantic?” He turned toward me, resting one elbow on therailing. “Do you secretly wish for a tender embrace in the moonlight?”

“I’m more likely to throw you off this tower than embrace you on it.”

He chuckled amiably.

“What about you?” I asked, silently assuring myself that my curiosity was not genuine, but mocking. “Areyousecretly a romantic?”

“Oh, it’s no secret. For one, I’m a touch magician. ‘Tender embrace’ is in my nature.”