Page 61 of Fate's Wicked Oath

The name of Kieran’s steed. Somehow, it suited the blade perfectly.

“What do you think, Ana?” Faren asked seriously. “Do you accept this name for your weapon?”

I bit the tip of my thumb, overcome. The book from my childhood. My brother’s son. The simple pleasure of spending time together. It was all too much—toogood. It cracked my heart even wider, spilling all its contents down my ribs, into my belly. My face was red—I could feel it—and I knew Faren could see the emotion written in the color. But for some reason, this time, I didn’t mind him looking.

“Windthorn,” I said, the name coating my tongue with fondness and nostalgia. “It’s perfect.”

The room erupted in cheers and applause. Timand hopped to his feet, dancing and spinning before the hearth, giggling with glee. I laughed, clapping along with the rest of my family. And amid the lightness and joy, tucked within the corner of my leaking heart, I was grateful that Faren was here to clap along with us.

22

Definitely Not a Villain

Mariana

My heart was an open wound as we rode away from my family home.

This was why I rarely visited: it was easier to starve myself of their love than to remember what I was missing. I couldn’t stand lying to them about my charge; I didn’t like facing what was at stake if I ever garnered Heris’s retribution; and the taste of what I could have if I ever won my freedom only intensified my current desperation. The wind always felt harsher upon my leaving, my clothing more confining, the misting rain more biting.

The agony put me in a foul mood—one to which Faren seemed oblivious, or perhaps immune.

“Now what?” he asked, as everything I loved shrunk into the distance at my back.

“Now we hunt a monster.”

“How do we know it didn’t slink back into the Western Wood?”

There had been signs over the past few days. Broken tree limbs, deep gashes in the earth, dribbles of black blood. Just because we’d been preoccupied with delivering Pete and Orna to safety didn’t mean I’d stopped noticing, tracking,sensing.

“I know because of my Oath,” I answered.

“Care to elaborate?”

“No.”

“Ah, I get it.”

When I glanced expectantly at him, awaiting his clarification, he smirked.

“Friendly Ana has morphed back into Cranky Mariana,” he said.

I scoffed. “Apologies for taking monster hunting seriously.”

“Seriously, or grimly?”

“Valiant Knighthood is a grim charge.”

Faren shrugged. “Seems like a stroll to me.”

Indignant, I was about to argue—until I noticed the mischievous lift of his brow. “You’re baiting me.”

“You must admit I have a talent for it,” he said. “I’m beginning to think that getting a rise out of you is my true calling in life.”

With a small shake of my head, I gazed out across the countryside. The farther south we ventured, the more fertile Fenrir became, the rolling hills blanketed in a patchwork of pastures, orchards, and fields of fall crops. Wild deciduous trees hemmed the edges of cultivation in bursts of rust reds and brilliant yellows.

“You wouldn’t last more than a month as a Valiant Knight,” I said.

“Because I’m too good and moral?”