Page 44 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Orna shook her head, still staring at her husband’s leg. She did not ask whether or not he’d be okay. Faren left them for a moment, searching the barn for a chair; he returned with a milking stool and placed it just out of Mariana’s way, guiding Orna to sit. Her trembling hands curled in her lap.

Faren knelt in front of her. Both dogs crowded close, attempting to lick his face, and he pushed them gently away. “Can you tell me what happened?”

Orna’s gaze went distant, and she let out a small sob.

“I know it’s hard,” Faren said, patting her knee, “but the more you can divulge, the better we can help.”

Tears wobbled in Orna’s blue eyes. “I…”

“You were attacked,” Mariana said, still tending to Pete. “You escaped inside, and the—” She broke off abruptly, restarted, speaking in vague terms. “Your cottage was destroyed. Pete tried to fight back. He was injured. A fire was set—either by accident or on purpose—and in the distraction, you escaped into the barn. The flames were a deterrent. Is that correct?”

Orna gasped softly. “Yes.”

“Any other pertinent details?” Mariana inquired.

“It was…huge,” Orna whispered, as if speaking any louder would summon it. “Grotesque.” She shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks. “What in the Fates…?”

“You know we can’t say,” Mariana replied. With Pete’s wound cleaned, she had moved on to applying the same salve she’d given Faren.

“You’ve encountered them before?” Orna asked.

Mariana didn’t reply. Faren opened his mouth, then remembered his Oath.

Orna covered her face with her hands and sobbed. Faren scooted closer on his knees and rubbed the woman’s back. She was cold, shaking. He removed his cloak and wrapped it around Orna’s shoulders. “You’re safe now,” he soothed, hoping that wasn’t a lie.

Pete grunted, drawing everyone’s attention. His eyelids fluttered, then he blinked awake. Orna launched from her stool and collapsed beside her husband, whimpering and kissing his cheeks. Faren stood, holding the dogs’ collars so they didn’t leap on their master in their excitement and jostle his injury.

“Welcome back,” Mariana said. Pete tried to lift his head, but she laid a hand on his shoulder, willing him still. “Best you not look at the damage.”

His leg was a mess of red blood, black veins, and gooey salve. It didn’t lookbetter, but Faren knew Pete was better off from Mariana’s care. Faren wondered what sort of tincture Mariana had given him, what she thought of his leg.

“Thank the Fates,” Orna was whispering. “Thank the Fates.”

Thank Mariana, Faren thought.

“It’s all right,” Pete murmured, kissing his wife’s temple. “I’m here.”

Mariana retreated, giving the couple some privacy. She walked the short distance over to Simon and fed him a treat from her pocket. When Sunny hung his head over the railing, too, Mariana gave him a treat as well, smiling as he nosed her shoulder for more. As she stroked their long faces, she looked as relieved to see their horses as Faren felt.

“Orna, my dear,” Pete said, his voice wobbling with apology. He cringed as he sat upright. “How will we rebuild?”

“You won’t,” Mariana interrupted. “You can’t stay here.”

The homesteaders both regarded her, their faces stricken.

“But this is our home,” Orna protested. “Pete was born in that cottage.”

“I’m sorry,” Mariana said.

“But where will we go?” Orna asked, her voice high and shrill.

“Do you have family nearby?” Faren asked.

“I have a sister who lives in the capital, but we aren’t city folk; this is all we know, and she has no space for animals,” Orna said, gesturing at their livestock—their livelihood. “Our daughter lives in Lothgaim. She married a man from there.”

“You do miss her,” Pete said. “It would be a long trek, but we could make it.”

“With your leg?” Orna asked him.