Page 37 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Mere minutes ago, their conversation had been almost…amiable.Easy. Then, with the topic of Yar, she’d returned to her usual frostiness. The sight of the monster had transformed her expression from chilly to blank.

“Are we not going to kill it?” Faren whispered.

“I am. You are going to run.”

The danger of her sentence struck him in a way it hadn’t before. The idea of Mariana—all five feet, two inches of her—facing a Morta on her own was undeniably impressive. Faren also hated the thought. She didn’t need to do this alone. Not with a highly trained Mighty Knight around.

“I can help,” he said.

“It’s better for you to go,” she whispered curtly.

“Would it not be better to outnumber it?” he argued.

Her gait remained steady on the stairs, resolute. “I assure you, I can—and will—kill the Morta on my own while you collect our gear and find safety.”

Faren did not like feeling useless. “Protecting the realm is part ofmyduty, too.”

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she turned to face him. “You can’t save the world if you’re dead, Faren.”

She stood barely up to his sternum, but her posture was formidable, like sheknewshe could take him in a fight if she had to. After seeing the monster outside—not to mention the past few mornings sparring with her—he knew it, too.

“Morta are not like the monsters we’ve faced so far,” she went on tersely. “They are ruthless and terrible, and it is extremely dangerous to face one if you don’t know what you’re doing. Your lack of experience would put both of us in danger. Donottry to be a hero.”

This wasn’t a matter of ego or glory—she was underestimating him. She’d underestimated him ever since their first day on this journey. They might’ve had an easy moment at the top of the tower, but when it came down to it, Mariana did not believe in his capability. She did not respect him, and thatbotheredFaren.

But arguing with her was futile, so he only gritted his teeth. “Fine.”

Mariana went to the door and carefully removed the drawbar. “Wait for me in the grove outside of town,” she said. “You know the one I mean?”

Faren nodded once, despising the plan.

Upon his confirmation, Mariana burst through the door without farewell.

The Morta was a straight shot from the bell tower, lumbering away from them toward the town square. Mariana ran directly for it, her sword flashing in a blue blur. Faren started eastward as he promised, but with each step, a sense ofwrongnessin his gut grew. Running away from the action made him feel like a coward, but it also felt antithetical to his Oath. Faren’s whole life revolved around doing the right thing, and leaving Mariana to face a Morta by herself did not feel right.

Faren was as accustomed to following orders, and he knew the importance of sticking to a plan. But Mariana was wrong about him—he wasn’t a mindless gold brute, nor was he her enemy. His Order might’ve stood for law while hers was comprised of lawless folk, but they were more than the stereotypes of their Orders. He was a dedicated protector of the realm, and so was she.

Faren wanted to prove to her that he could be an ally.Fates, he wanted to prove to her that the realm wasn’t as cruel and lonely and terrible as she thought. It didn’t matter that she was a criminal, that she got under his skin, that she was constantly berating and questioning his character. Oderin had encouragedFaren to use his morals as a compass on this mission, and this was his chance to show Mariana that, just because shecouldfight a Morta on her own, didn’t mean she had to.

When an alleyway opened up, Faren didn’t overthink it—he hooked south, racing parallel to where Mariana was headed. As he ran, he reached for the scabbards strapped to his back, smoothly drawing both shortswords but keeping the red flames at bay; he wanted to take the creature by surprise. When Faren reached the town square, he stopped short, using the narrow walls of the alley as cover as he peered out at the scene unfolding.

It was a sight to behold.

Mariana was already engaged in the fight, swinging her sword in a bright flourish before the monster’s menacing form. The Morta was a shadow double Mariana’s size. Illuminated in the pale glow of her weapon, its skin—webbed with black veins—took on a sickly pallor. Venom dripped from its teeth, its leech-like tongue darting in and out. Red eyes tracked Mariana’s every move.

But she was fast—and clever.

Similar to how she sparred with Faren, Mariana was not afraid to get close to her foe. The creature struggled to strike her, its considerable reach made clumsy in close proximity. She sliced at its ankles, knees, elbows—vulnerable places that had it stumbling sideways. Black blood sprayed, sizzling on the cobblestones. The Morta screeched, a discordant note that was both guttural and high pitched.

The sound made the hairs on the back of Faren’s neck stand up. A blend of horror and awe stole his breath. He watched on with his heart thudding in his throat, unable to move.

Mariana was a storm cloud wielding her sword like lightning, full of rage and power without repression. A symphony of grim sounds filled the abandoned town square: Mariana’s grunts andshouts, the monster’s screeches and growls, the clatter of claws on stone, the dull slice of steel through flesh. Faren recognized the movements from Mariana’s morning exercises, now utilized in swift succession. She was so practiced, so heartbreakinglygoodat this thankless duty.

But the Morta was vicious and formidable.

Its body might’ve appeared lumbering and gangly, but it was surprisingly quick. It swiped at Mariana with claws as long as her forearms, managing to clip her on the breastplate. The magically repellant metal deflected the Morta’s hit with a shower of sparks. The strike might not have cut, but it was enough to send Mariana stumbling backward—into a more comfortable range for the creature’s long arms.

It lashed out, but she deflected, leaping sideways. The Morta advanced, snarling and slobbering caustic venom. With a primal yell, Mariana lunged for the creature, hacking off one of the centipede-like limbs protruding from its ribs. It squealed, spraying black blood in an arc as it reared back. Mariana ducked her head under the splatter, and Faren felt the phantom sting on his own face, his welts prickling with the pain of empathy.