Page 54 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“The Lord himself?” Horace sounded dubious—concerned. “Is this part of her sentence?”

Faren winced, realizing that what he’d said was not the compliment he’d meant it to be; that Lord Haron was not likely to be held in high regard here. Though the general public was not permitted to know about the Order of the Valiant, specifically, it made sense for her family to at least understand that her knighthood was of a forcibly repentant nature.

Wanting to ease Horace’s worries, Faren considered his next words carefully. “My mission required someone skilled and trustworthy to assist, and Mariana…” Faren loosed a breath: half laugh, half sigh. “She’s the most talented knight I’ve ever met, if I’m being honest.”

Horace met Faren’s eyes over the partition, as if trying to see whether he was kidding. Their gazes held for a beat, and then Horace took up a bristle brush and began grooming Simon’s neck, shoulders, and back. “I would’ve expected you to tell me she was a menace,” he said finally.

Faren chuckled. “Oh, she is definitely a menace—but an honorable one.”

“That’s my Ana.”

Finished with the barding, Faren got to work on his saddle bags; the leather straps were so swollen with rain that the buckles took some yanking. “Was she always so strong-willed?” he couldn’t help but ask.

“Aye. Leera likes to remind everyone that Ana came out of the womb kicking.” Horace smiled to himself. “She’s always had a strong sense of right and wrong—though that didn’t always align with the law.”

“My Order does not condone crime,” Faren said slowly, “but I respect strong morals.”

Horace made a thoughtfulhumph. “I haven’t met many Mighty Knights,” he said, “but you aren’t what I expected.”

“What did you expect?”

Horace grimaced. “Probably shouldn’t say.”

Before Faren had left Fenrir City, he’d assumed that Mighty Knights were lauded even in the most rural corners of the territory. He wondered if Horace’s apparent distrust extended beyond the Bellkeep’s property.

The gold plating on your chest is more wealth than most folks in these parts will earn in their lifetimes, Mariana had said.Do you know what they feel when they look at that? Not comforted or inspired, but supplicant. Lesser.

It was clear that Mariana came by her unfavorable opinions honestly.

Faren smiled at Horace, making sure the other man knew that he was not insulted. “I’m sure whatever you’d say would pale in comparison to what Mariana has told me to my face.” Faren scratched his chin, sobering. “Some of it might even be true.”

Horace continued brushing Simon with quick, staccato strokes. “Will you be traveling together much longer?”

“I’m not sure.” Faren paused with his hands on Sunny’s saddle, about to slide it off. “How much do you know about Mariana’s charge?” Immediately, he tasted a sourness at the back of his throat, his Oath tattoo tingling with warning. It was still such a foreign sensation for a devoted knight such as himself, but he was not cowed by it as he once had been. He wanted to know.

Horace wiped his forehead with a knuckle. “Less than you, I reckon,” he said. “I know enough to worry about her, but not enough to have to worry about the rest of my family.”

His implication was clear: knowing too much had consequences. Faren thought back to when they’d first met the homesteaders, how cold Mariana had been, how brutally she’d tried to shelter them from knowledge that was not for them. He couldn’t imagine the pain and isolation Mariana experienced in lying to her own family about the nature of her sentence…her entire existence.

“She doesn’t deserve it.” Faren’s words came unbidden. “She doesn’t deservethis—”

“She committed a crime,” Horace interrupted softly. He skated a hand down the length of Simon’s face. “Crimes beget punishment.”

Faren gritted his teeth. Still wearing his wet clothes, his body temperature was dropping, a damp cold seeping into his bones—but it was Mariana’s suffering that chilled him. It was his guilt by association that sent a shiver down his spine. “She was only a girl,” Faren whispered.

Horace was quiet for a long while. When he spoke again, his voice sounded distant. “I begged them to convict me instead. I begged them on my knees, but they wouldn’t. Watching them take her away…knowing I’d failed her as a father…” Horace shook his head and spat on hay-strewn floor.

His candor poked a hole in Faren’s chest, deflating him. “You raised an incredibly strong, cunning woman.”

“But I didn’t raise her,” Horace said. “She raised herself. Out there, with a sword in her hand.”

Faren swallowed thickly. He didn’t know what to say.

Horace patted Simon’s shoulder with a loud clap. “I’ve learned not to dwell too much on the past.” He forced a tight-lipped smile. “Every visit—every confirmation she’s all right—is a blessing. That’s what I focus on.”

“I’m sorry,” Faren said. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“She committed a crime,” Horace repeated, shrugging his big shoulders as if nothing else could be done. “You’re a Mighty Knight. You understand.”