43. Standoff
Standoff
Faren
One moment, Faren had been admiring Mariana’s beauty in the dappled sunlight, struck by how much he wanted her to meet his family, and wondering if he’d been wrong when he told her that love would be ruinous to his knighthood.
Wondering if, at the end of all this, he could create enough space in his life to keep his Oath to the realm and keep Mariana.
Because he already loved her, completely and unequivocally.
He loved her.
But then, the next moment, he was standing with swords in hand, his heart rate thundering as his mind caught up to the fact that—had he not leaned in to kiss her just now—he would’ve been struck in the head by an arrow.
When a second one flew, his heightened magic read the displacement of the air with just enough time to evade; the metal tip pinged off his breastplate, deflecting into the underbrush, startling the horses.
He’d practiced that exact dodge with Lee in the training yard countless times, and he was grateful for how instinctual it’d become.
A newer instinct—but no less strong—was his immediate protectiveness toward Mariana. Without a second thought, Faren positioned himself between her and the unseen archer, hefting his swords and bracing for a third arrow. “Show yourself,” he demanded.
But then Mariana was stepping in front of Faren, lifting her palms in surrender. “You’ve made your point, Heris.”
Straight ahead of them, a tall figure moseyed into view. He held an impressive longbow, an arrow nocked, but the bowstring not drawn. The man had a gaunt face, weathered from time and hardship. His right eye was missing.
Faren recognized the famous criminal immediately.
There was an unpredictable quality to Heris Morvain, a cruelty in his gaze that was evident even from a distance.
But it was not Heris himself that made Faren feel unsettled—it was the subtle stiffness that’d crept into Mariana’s shoulders.
The fear in a woman who was usually fearless.
“Hello, my dear,” Heris cooed.
Faren took a single step forward; Mariana barred him with an arm outstretched, her eyes never leaving Heris. “Don’t,” she whispered.
Six more black-clad knights emerged from behind the surrounding oak trees, filling the clearing.
Two flanked Heris. Another two snatched Simon and Sunny’s reins, keeping the nervous animals in place.
The last two were Castor and Brom, who held a prisoner between them.
The man’s hands were bound, and his head lolled, chin to chest; if it weren’t for the knights supporting him, he’d collapse.
Castor grabbed the prisoner’s hair and yanked his head back, revealing a tawny face caked in dried blood.
Bard.
A breathy, agonized sound slipped out of Mariana. She staggered toward her brother—two shaky steps—before halting. “What the fuck?”
“That’s what I’d like to know,” Heris said dryly, un-nocking his arrow and stalking farther into the clearing. “What the fuck.”
Mariana’s knuckles turned white at her sides. “What have you done to him?”
“Oh, nothing I haven’t done to you,” Heris taunted.
Bard was barely conscious. Aside from the oozing wound on his head, his eyes appeared glassy and unseeing, his body limp in his captors’ arms. Seeing the innocent man so brutalized made Faren’s blood boil, but the insinuation that Heris had harmed Mariana like that before—perhaps worse—made him want to scorch everything in sight with his fury.
Seeming to sense Faren’s barely contained rage, Mariana glanced briefly back at him, giving him a wild-eyed look—one that urged him to keep himself in check. She had been afraid before she saw Bard; now, her face was ashen.
Weeks ago, Faren had wondered how a woman as strong as Mariana could remain subservient to anyone, let alone Heris, but now he understood it fully. This man—this monster—had not only promised her freedom. He knew where her family lived. He had probably lorded that over her since she was a child.
Trauma and threats like that weren’t simply forgotten.
But they might as well have been, for the way Mariana’s expression shifted. The soft, compassionate, humorous woman Faren had been sitting with in the grass minutes earlier disappeared, replaced by a hardened and irritated Valiant Knight.
“Why?” she asked, her tone low.
“Leverage, my dear,” Heris said. “You appeared to be getting too cozy with the enemy”—a quick glance at Faren—“so I thought I’d remind you where your allegiance lies.”
“Allegiance—” Faren protested, but Mariana spoke over him.
“You think I want to be traipsing all over Fenrir with this dead weight?” she asked, pointing at Faren with a thumb over her shoulder.
He knew it was an act—the cold indifference she donned like a mask—but it still surprised him how quickly her fear for Bard had transformed; no trace of terror remained, only an inconvenienced sort of vexation.
“I’m under orders from the Lord, remember?” Mariana continued. “I have no choice.”
“I was not under the impression your orders extended to whoring,” Heris countered, and Faren had to clench his fists to keep himself from breaking the fucker’s nose. “Nor meandering all over the territory.”
“You’re the one who sent me to Waldron,” Mariana bit out. “Open my saddle bags. See what an obedient knight I’ve been.”
The knight holding Simon rifled through Mariana’s bags, finding the one that held the potions. They pulled out a bottle and held it up to the weak autumn sunlight, the opalescent purple liquid shimmering.
Heris sauntered forward until he loomed over Mariana. “We know why you were in Waldron, but does he?” Heris swung his gruel gaze up to Faren, still standing a pace behind Mariana. “You understand the lengths I’ve gone to keep outsiders from knowing too much.”
“You mean the lengths I’ve gone.”
“You have not gone far enough, seeing as the gold brute is still here.”
With a quick glance around the clearing, Faren wondered if the two of them could take six Valiant Knights on their own.
The odds weren’t great—and, worse, to make a move of aggression would likely place Bard in the crosshairs.
Difficult as it was, Faren decided it was better to hold his ground, keep quiet, and allow Mariana to continue her act.
“He knows about the Lord,” Mariana said. “The truth. His loyalty has changed.”
“His Oath tattoo remains intact,” Heris countered. “Please, Mariana. You were supposed to be getting leverage. Don’t tell me you fell in love with him.”
The possibility flew through Faren like a comet, a flash of hope in this dark standoff. Could she love him?
After a brief pause, Mariana laughed. “Isn’t it obvious? I seduced him, the poor sap. What better leverage is that?”
Faren couldn’t see Mariana’s face, but the lie was there in her posture. She stood with her feet wide, shoulders down, arms at her sides—but she was not at ease. He’d seen her relaxed, and this was not it.
Even so, her words cut, and his face fell.
“You might prefer to resort to force,” she went on blithely, “but I have other tricks up my sleeve. Feminine wiles and all that.”
Castor and Brom snickered.
“Men are easily manipulated,” she added, and the two Valiant cronies broke off with matching scowls.
“If seduction was all this is,” Heris said, “then you won’t mind if we kill him.”
On cue, the two knights flanking Heris raised their crossbows.
Adrenaline pumped through Faren’s veins in a dizzying rush.
He hefted his swords, inhaling through his nose to keep his body grounded and ready.
The crossbows groaned as their levers were pulled back, the knights readying the bolts with harsh clicks; they took aim at Faren’s neck from barely fifteen feet away.
Uncertainty swelled in Faren’s throat as the knights waited for their cues to fire. He’d trained for situations like this, and he would attempt to deflect the bolts if he had to, but how far would Mariana let this go?
It’s just an act, he told himself.
One crossbowman’s leather glove creaked as his hand tightened on the trigger.
“What of the consequences?” Mariana asked.
Heris raised his hand, bidding the crossbowmen hold.
Faren released a shaky breath but kept his swords aloft and his body alert.
“He knows too much,” Heris replied simply. “The consequences of his death are paltry compared to those if he lives.”
Mariana casually shifted her stance, angling her body directly in front of Faren. “I’m not sure I agree,” she said, cocking a hip. “You see, you tasked me with finding leverage, and I have delivered.”
Her voice—it was so smug. So devoid of warmth. It’s just an act, Faren reminded himself, but she was convincing enough that doubt was beginning to creep in.
Heris seemed unamused. “Out with it, then.”
“The Mighty have a weak link,” Mariana said. “Major Oderin Farkept.”
Faren gasped. “Mariana—”
She pinned him with a hard look, her tone harsh.
“Keep that pretty mouth shut, would you?” When she turned back to Heris, she spread her arms wide, as if making a demonstration.
Her next words were saccharine. “Loyalty among the Order of the Mighty is hanging on by a thread—one that I think we ought to pull and see what unravels.”
The Valiant Knights in the clearing chuckled and chattered, pleased by her suggestion.
Heris was still scowling, though. “What are you suggesting?”
“Let him tell the Lord,” Mariana drawled. “Let him put fear into Castle Might. Unless you all think the Valiant cannot win without secrecy? I was under the impression that chaos would be our strategy.”
Heris’s eye flicked suspiciously between Mariana and Faren.
Mariana groaned as if this were all a huge nuisance.
“You tasked me with finding leverage over the Mighty—I did. You tasked me with retrieving the potions—I did. You knew I was summoned for this pointless diversion from our plans; I didn’t ask to spend the past six weeks wasting time.
” She folded her arms again. “It’s not like you to get paranoid, Heris.
This was a waste of resources—and you’ve pissed me off. Kidnapping my brother was hardly—”
“Enough,” Heris said. “Castor and Brom delivered a full report of your stunt outside of Brine. You think I don’t hear your lies?”
“Castor and Brom?” Mariana’s laugh was sharp and mocking. “My stunt in Brine was the key to shaking the Mighty Knight’s loyalty. I achieved my goal in spite of their mindless meddling.”
Faren flinched. It was true. That night had shaken his loyalty. To hear it phrased as if she’d done it to thwart him and not help him… It was his worst fear, put to voice.
It’s just an act, he told himself, but that didn’t stop his heart from sinking.
Heris must’ve noticed the crestfallen look on Faren’s face. Seconds passed, then his shrewd and beady eye darted from Faren back to Mariana, and a yellow, jagged smile cracked across his lips. “My secret weapon,” he drawled proudly. “You had me fooled.”
“You think I’d abandon my aims over a man?” She sounded insulted.
Faren’s heart dropped into his stomach, souring his gut. He realized, then, that they were not escaping this situation together.
“Let’s get on with this, shall we?” Mariana went on, as if her battered brother and Faren almost getting skewered by an arrow were no more than an inconvenience. “I assume you’d like for me to return with you. What of my brother?”
“What of him?” Heris asked.
“He can’t very well take himself home.” Mariana gestured Bard’s limp body. “I will not cooperate without the safety of my family, you know that, and I doubt you want me to run that errand.”
Cooperate. Her word choice made Faren wonder why Heris had gone to all this trouble to ensure Mariana had not betrayed him—to retrieve her and keep her under his control.
She must’ve been essential to the Valiant’s plot, somehow, but beyond her superior fighting skills, Faren couldn’t think of an explanation.
Not with his stomach still fizzing with dread.
“Brom will escort your brother home,” Heris replied stiffly.
“You think I trust Brom?” With a scoff, Mariana glanced back at Faren, as if entertaining an idea.
But this time, when she met his eyes, the harshness of the Maiden Morta Killer was gone.
It was like sunlight streaming through a sudden break in clouds, her real self a beam of warmth on his face.
The look lasted the length of two heartbeats—two seconds during which the real Mariana shined through.
Clear as day, Faren saw the moment she decided to put his life above her own.
Then the clouds swept across her face again, and she turned back to her leader. “Send my brother with the gold brute.”
“You trust a gold brute over me?” Brom squawked.
“The Mighty Knight is sworn by Oath to serve innocents,” Mariana bit out. “I trust his leash.”
Heris watched her, as if he could read her intentions on her face. “Why else?”
“The errand will delay him, buy us time,” Mariana reasoned. “If we kill the brute now, the Lord will act immediately.” She shrugged. “Seems obvious to me, but what do I know?”
“Fine.” Heris made a quick gesture, and before Faren could react, one of the crossbows discharged.
Pain ripped through the meat of Faren’s thigh.
He dropped to one knee with a grunt, head swimming with the agony of torn flesh.
Mariana wheeled toward him, but she did not cry out.
Jaw set with barely contained composure, her dark eyes searched the place where the bolt protruded from his leg, a storm of fear and fury flashing across her features like lightning.
Faren’s vision blurred, and he scrambled for his magic to dull the sensation before it dizzied him further. Gradually, the brightness of the pain faded into a throbbing ache, and he hissed through his teeth as the worst of it eased.
Laughter filled the air, a taunting ha, ha, ha from Heris. “Let’s go,” he called, turning his back to Faren without further ceremony.
Brom and Castor shoved Bard onto the grass, snickering as they left his limp body behind. The Valiant Knights began clearing out, following their leader west.
But Mariana lingered in front of Faren, her breastplate shifting up and down with her rapid breaths. She looked like she was on the verge of a violent riot, or tears—maybe both.
But she couldn’t break character now.
“Go,” Faren forced out.
She took a step closer, lips parting.
“Fuck you,” Faren said, trying to snap her out of her fear, to keep up her act—their act—and show her that he’d be fine. The sooner she left, the sooner Faren could staunch the bleeding and check on her brother.
“Poor sap, indeed,” one of the knights said to Mariana as he passed.
As if remembering herself, Mariana’s face morphed into a smirk, but it didn’t reach her eyes. In her eyes, Faren saw the unspoken regret.
He clung to that small truth as she turned away, leaving him and Bard bleeding in the grass.