Page 89 of Fate's Wicked Oath

“That’s a silly tradition.”

“I agree, but she insisted.”

I leaned out of my seat, reaching for a log to throw on the fire. The embers sparked, caught, spilling light into the dark room. Wicker lifted his head at the commotion in the hearth, then returned his muzzle to the crook of his own gangly elbow with a wheezy old-dog sigh.

Idris watched me with his elbows wide, shoulders relaxed, tankard cradled between his laced fingers. “This Valiant rebellion,” he said evenly, and I braced for the coming interrogation. What exactly does it entail? Why are the Bad Blues curing Morta?”

“It doesn’t concern you.”

“Your warnings imply otherwise.” He gestured to the sleeping wolfhound, the dark pub, sweeping his palm out as if to encompass the whole town. “You see what I have to lose. The Fate of Fenrir concerns me deeply. Lord Haron is a villain—but so is Heris. You fight monsters, Mariana, but you also serve one. Why are you so loyal to—”

“You think I don’t know he’s a monster?” I interrupted bitterly. “I know better thananyone. I’ve been under his thumb since I was a fucking child.”

The hard set of his mouth softened.

“I’m trapped, Idris,” I went on. “My sentence is for life. You might be a glutton for self-sacrifice, but I can’t—” Emotion burned behind my eyes, seared my throat. “I can’tdo thisforever. I wish I was more altruistic, but after twenty-four years of torment, I needfreedom.” My voice cracked on the word. “I despise Heris, but I despise the torture of my charge more. I have no choice. Unless the Lord’s reign is upended, there’s no hope for me.”

Idris set his ale aside, giving me his full attention. “Take it from someone who was once lost to a similar form of despair: there is always hope, Mariana.”

I bit the inside of my cheek.

For most of our lives, Idris and I had been at odds, avoiding each other when we could and threatening each other when we had to. Even so, over the years, I’d come to see why Grinnick had loved his little brother so much. Idris was a good soul, gruff at times, but kind when it counted. In spite of the wedge betweenus, he was one of the few men I had respected among the Valiant—not just because of his relation to Grinnick, but because he was a man of courage and honor amongst a host of villainous cowards.

I hadn’t really known why I’d felt compelled to warn him about the Valiant rebellion and the knights with blank Fates, nor why I’d come all this way just to ensure the safety of near strangers. After helping him escape the Well of Fate with Anya, I supposed I found his devotion to her inspiring. Unconditional love was a rare thing. I recognized it in Idris—in Noble, too—the same way I recognized it in myself, toward my family.

If there was anything I valued over my freedom, it was that.

“I don’t mean for Waldron to be threatened,” I told him. “I don’t mean for any of the small towns along the Wend to be at risk.”

“But they are,” Idris said, and the plain truth of it made me flinch. “So long as Heris acts unchecked, no corner of Fenrir will be safe.Youwill not be free. You know that, don’t you?”

I did. It was the part of the plan I didn’t want to consider—a bridge I’d planned to cross when I came to it but couldn’t stand to face any sooner. Heris’s goal was to expose the Lord’s corruption, kill him, and break the Order of the Valiant. The ensuing chaos—a dead sovereign with no heir—was our plan of escape. But even if Heris stayed true to his word and set me free, Fenrir would still be destabilized, and the Valiant would still haunt every corner of this land.

My fist clenched in my lap. “I won’t let that happen,” I vowed. “Iwon’t. I promise you.”

Idris took up his ale again. Drank deep. “You’re a skilled woman, Mariana, but even you can’t make a promise like that.”

With a sudden and defensive fury, I sat forward and tugged my collar aside, revealing my Oath tattoo—the black band that he had once bore, too, before the Well of Fate and some othermysterious magic wiped him clean. “I can’t save the realm when I wear this leash,” I snapped. “You must at least understand that.”

The shadows of the room caught on the wry tilt of his jaw, his contemplative expression. “I think I understand you more now than I ever have.”

I slumped in my chair, not knowing how to interpret his statement and not particularly wanting to. Whether it was a compliment or an insult, I didn’t feel I deserved it. All paths ahead of me were treacherous, dishonorable, doomed. I had to keep my footing; I had to keep moving.

Idris lobbed another log onto the fire, disturbing the dog and sending an array of sparks up into the chimney. When he resettled, his wry expression returned. “You seem different from your last visit,” he observed. “Softer.”

I scowled over the lip of my tankard. “Fuck you.”

“I don’t mean like Oderin. I’m talking about your demeanor. It’s a good thing.”

“How is that a good thing?”

“A harsh attitude leads to a harsh life.”

“I’d argue it’s the other way around.”

“My point is,” he said at length, “you seem happier.”

It was as if he’d found a gap in my armor and was prodding me in the ribs. I scoffed, dismissive.