Page 81 of Fate's Wicked Oath

Faren opened and closed his mouth, faltering once again.

Mariana snickered.

“You know Oderin, then?” the other man asked, coming deeper into the room. His blue-green eyes were sharp, and he carried himself like a fighter: strong, sure-footed, but a little stiff, as if he were favoring an old injury.

Breastplate or no, there was no hiding it now. “He’s my Major,” Faren said. “Are you well acquainted with him?”

“I am.”

“He’s a great man.”

A smirk. “He’s soft.”

Mariana snorted.

“Idris,” the man introduced himself. The wolfhound plopped down at his feet, and he patted the dog’s head. “Oderin and I go way back.”

“Idris Togren,” Faren realized. “Oderin told me you retired in Waldron, but…”

“You didn’t expect to find him here?” Anya piped up.

Faren shook his head, bewildered. It was an honor and a surprise to meet his Major’s closest friend. “Soft. Is that a common refrain among the Valiant?”

“It’s a common refrain among all knights who aren’t Mighty,” Idris said with a good-natured laugh. “Except the Lawful, no one likes them except themselves. Right, Noble?”

Noble chuckled. Faren did, too. It was true.

“Are you a knight as well?” Faren asked Noble, unable to see an Oath tattoo peeking out from the other man’s collar. “What’s your Order?”

“Morta,” Noble replied.

Faren laughed at the joke—General Asheren’s son must’ve been Mighty, perhaps in Marona—but no one else seemed amused. His off-balance feeling returned.

“Alright,” Anya interrupted at length, resting her hands on her hips. “Now that we’ve all introduced ourselves and made Faren properly uncomfortable, I’d like to know why Mariana has darkened our doorstep with a Mighty Knight in tow?”

“More importantly,” Noble said, “can he be trusted?”

He’d directed the question at Mariana, and Hattie wrinkled her nose. “The irony of askingherthat question,” she muttered.

“I trust him, and that should be enough for you lot,” Mariana said.

“Did Oderin pair you?” Idris asked.

Faren nodded, still eyeing Noble, thinking of the Morta transformation he’d witnessed in Brine. The potion Mariana sought from Hattie. The incident in Fenrir City. Connecting the clues but not believing his own conclusions. Not believing what Noble hadsaid.

“Trusted by OderinandMariana?” Anya asked. “I’m not sure what to make of that.”

“Neither do I,” Faren muttered.

Idris, to Faren’s surprise, clapped an amiable hand on his shoulder. “At the Possum, you’ll take it as a compliment. Anywhere else, I wouldn’t mention it.”

Mariana finished her ale and set down her glass with a clatter. She reached into her pack and procured a clear bottle that Faren hadn’t seen before. In it, an opalescent blue liquid glinted like moonlight. “I need more cure,” Mariana said flatly, looking again to Hattie. There was no warmth in her expression—in fact, she appeared rather threatening. “Now.”

“I don’t have time now.” Hattie arched a brow, unruffled by Mariana’s posturing.

Faren recalled his brief conversation with Hattie in Fenrir’s Ire. She’d been searching for Mariana at the time, and he’d thought her naive—reckless, even—to seek out such a volatile individual. He’d tried to warn her off, but now, hesensed a strange sort of familiarity between them. A mutual understanding forged through some shared history. Mariana could growl all she wanted, but Hattie seemed confident that it was only for show.

“In case you didn’t notice,” Hattie went on, “Waldron has an event happening tomorrow.”