27. It’s Okay to Change Your Mind #3
I drew back, again hyperaware of my near-naked state. Holding his cloak around me with one hand, I reached for my clothes with the other. “I’ll get changed.”
Faren watched me go, holding his hands to the fire, seeming to shape the warmth in his palms. When I returned, fully dressed but sans armor, he was fiddling with his fox figurine, a small smile lingering on his face.
“You’re still thinking about the swan, aren’t you?” I asked, handing him his cloak and plopping down beside him.
“Did you know they mate for life?”
“Is that why you were smiling?”
“It’s sweet, no?”
“Doesn’t change the fact that they are huge, and terrifying, and possess a mean bite.”
“You must’ve hated the statue in Yar,” he said.
I bounced my eyebrows. “Who do you think beheaded it?”
“You didn’t.”
“It was a bad omen, as far as I was concerned.”
His deep chuckle filled the camp. My lips twisted with amusement. Our easiness—our rapport—warmed me in a way that the fire didn’t.
Faren must’ve seen the quality of it on my face. “What?”
“Nothing,” I said. “I’m glad you’re no longer moping, is all.” I expected him to smirk, or make a joke about the fact that I cared about his emotional state, but—
“Moping? Is that what you think I’ve been doing these past few days?”
“Oh, I didn’t mean—”
“Do you truly think of my plight so flippantly?” His shift in mood was as sudden as a summer storm.
“Your plight?”
“What you said of my loyalty…” He swept the back of his hand through the air as if clearing a table, knocking over glasses. “To question a Mighty Knight’s loyalty is to question his foundation. The very core of his being. To call my pensiveness moping is—”
“Are you truly blaming me for your bad mood?” Irritation rose in me to meet his. “I’ve questioned your loyalty plenty of times. What was so different about Brine?”
Faren rubbed a hand over his stubble, making a scraping noise. “That was before I saw what I saw.”
“So you’re angry with me for showing you a glimpse of the truth?”
“I’m not angry at you.” Contrary to his words, his voice rose, startling the birds in the trees. “I’m angry because I—” He broke off abruptly. Shook his head, as if he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
And I understood it, then. The depth of his devotion to the Mighty. He was Fated to die for his charge. No wonder he wanted it to mean something.
“You’re angry because you’re torn,” I finished for him. There was opportunity in this conversation, and I reached for it. “You’re angry because your Lord is lying to you, but Faren”—I scooted closer to him again, insistent—“it’s okay to change your mind. It’s okay to—”
He held up his hand. “Stop, Mariana. Just…stop.” When he spoke next, it was to the fire. “You don’t understand. This is my life’s purpose. My motivation. I take my duty more seriously than anything else. This isn’t moping. This is everything I stand for, getting called into question.”
“No. It’s not.”
He looked up.
“You stand for the realm,” I said. “You stand for justice. You protect innocent citizens. You inspire…hope.” I could hardly believe I was saying such things about a Mighty Knight—let alone with conviction.
“None of that has changed. You’ve simply learned new information that will help you serve that cause better. ”
“I’m not sure what I’ve learned,” he said. “And you can’t clarify it for me, can you?”
I bit my lip to distract from the thrum of my blood in my veins, the troubled throbbing in my temples. I’m trying, I wanted to tell him. Against my better judgement, I want you to learn the truth.
“Mariana, my Oath—”
“Your Oath is to the realm. You said it yourself, you love nothing more than you love the realm. Is your love that shaken by what you’ve learned?”
A strange expression passed over his face, distraught, but also tender. He forced a tight-lipped smile. “We should go.”
He stood and went over to Sunny, untying the horse’s lead. I followed, not finished with our conversation.
“You’re coming with me to Waldron for a reason,” I said. “For the realm, no?”
He stroked Sunny’s neck. “The realm,” he repeated, as if it were an insult, a punchline to a bad joke. He swung his saddle onto Sunny’s back and began looping the leather strap of his cinch. “I’ll try not to be so mopey these next couple days.”
I reached for him, about to stay his hand. “Faren—”
“—if you promise not to shriek at every swan we see. They’re quite numerous along the Wend.”
I lowered my hand before I made contact.
Bit my lip. I knew a conversational diversion when I heard one, and as Faren had done for me earlier, I accepted the pivot.
“No promises,” I said. His humor wasn’t much, but it was something—an assurance that we, at least, were in as good standing as our circumstances would allow.
Faren raked a hand through his hair, glancing sidelong at me. “I still can’t believe the Maiden Morta Killer fears swans, of all things.”
“You take my secret to the grave,” I said, “or I will personally alter your Fate.”
Yanking on Sunny’s cinch, he said, “For better or worse, sweetheart, I’m afraid you already have.”