57. Free
Free
Faren
Mariana’s sharp intake of breath was apparent in the magically silent space. Faren reached up, placing a hand over hers on his shoulder.
“Mariana, if you would step forward, first,” Oderin prompted.
Her fingers dug harder into Faren’s shoulder. “What is this?”
Oderin’s smile was warm. “Did Faren not inform you of our bargain? ‘When this is over,’” he recited, “‘Mariana goes free.’”
The taut line of her mouth twitched. She kept her attention forward, not looking at Faren, as if avoiding his face was the only thing keeping her from fracturing. He used to think her cold and unfeeling, but now he knew better: that stony expression was a dam holding a torrent of emotion at bay.
“Is this real?” she asked Oderin softly.
“It’s real,” he assured her.
Faren tapped the back of her hand twice, murmuring a soft, “Go on.”
A pause, then her fingers unclenched from his shoulder. Sliding her hand off him, she approached the cart with the Ledgers on stiff legs.
“Mariana Bellkeep,” Oderin announced. “Are you ready to receive your freedom?”
Now, she did dart a glance back at Faren, eyes shining. Her voice was very small when she answered, “I am.”
Without further ceremony, Oderin gestured for the ledgermasters to begin. They lifted their cowls, obscuring their heads with the shimmering bronze fabric of their robes. The Ledger of the Order of the Valiant creaked and shushed as they flipped through the pages.
“This may sting,” Sorrel warned.
Lottie started to chant in the language of the arcane, an unsettling collection of vowels and syllables that made Faren ill at ease. After a few verses—Faren assumed they were verses—Sorrel joined in, their voices twining eerily.
Almost immediately, the air in the little room began to fizz.
It felt like cider on his tongue. The threat of lightning in the clouds.
A prickle of sparks rising off a campfire.
Faren had witnessed many honorable Mighty retirements, but those ceremonies had never carried such a zing of magic.
“What are they doing?” he asked. “This doesn’t feel like—”
Mariana pitched forward abruptly, gripping the edges of the cart as if she were in pain. Faren made to stand, thoroughly concerned now—but Sorrel held up an intricately tattooed hand, bidding he refrain from interfering.
The chanting grew louder, faster.
Arcane magic whipped through the room like sand in a windstorm.
A soft sound slipped out of Mariana as the sensation worsened.
Faren couldn’t see her face, only the flexing of her back muscles through the fabric of her shirt, and the paling of her knuckles as she clutched the cart harder.
Faren gritted his teeth against the invisible assault.
He was just a bystander; he couldn’t imagine the discomfort Mariana felt—especially with her hypersensitive magic.
Uselessly, Faren fisted his hands in the blanket draped over his lap.
Oderin’s shoulders were hunched, his face pinched in a grimace.
Archer stood rigidly still, stoic as always.
The ledgermasters did not seem immune to the awfulness of the magic, but accustomed to it: Lottie’s forehead was creased, Sorrel was frowning, but neither seemed alarmed.
Their chanting continued, faster and faster, crackling over Faren’s skin.
A faint light began to emanate from the open Ledger on the cart, and Faren sat taller, craning his neck.
Letters on the page were aglow, glimmering like embers in a dying fire.
He thought he could make out the mountainous swoop of a capital M lit with magic.
Mariana Bellkeep.
Abruptly, Lottie broke off. Then Sorrel.
The magic in the room continued to vibrate like an out-of-tune lute ringing a discordant tune.
Remembering how he had broken his own Oath—the excruciating pain of it—Faren braced for a sudden snap in the already-taut air.
Instead, the prickling sensation began to simply…
fade. Wind dying. A storm passing. Sparks sizzling into nothing.
Mariana’s breathing was labored. She still leaned on the cart, head hung between the jut of her shoulder blades. A faint shiver traveled down the lean lines of her back, but Faren couldn’t tell if she was laughing, crying, or chilled.
Unable to contain himself any longer, he swept the blankets off his lap and climbed out of his sickbed. “Mariana?” he asked, hesitating a beat before placing a palm in the center of her spine. Her skin was clammy beneath her shirt. “Ana?”
When she looked over her shoulder at him, her cheeks were tear streaked and tight with a grin, and her neck—her neck bore no trace of arcane ink at all.
Her tattoo hadn’t just faded, as happened with retirement, where all knights and adepts remained loosely bound to their Oath, sovereign, and realm forever, even when their duty ended. No. Her throat was entirely bare.
Her Oath was gone.
With a sharp, hysterical laugh, Mariana launched herself into Faren’s embrace.
She looped her arms around his neck, burying her face under his jaw.
Her legs had gone weak, and Faren held her up, allowing her to fall apart in her relief.
Her body quaked as she laughed and cried and trembled against him.
He crushed her close, rocking from side to side, moved by her unbidden joy.
Emotion thickened in his throat as his magic soaked up every ounce of it.
He swallowed hard and looked past her at the ledger. There was a blank space where her name had been, the page steaming slightly with the remnants of magic. Faren had known it was possible to undo the knots of an Oath, but rarely were magical weavings unraveled completely.
Oderin had followed through.
Faren met his former Major’s gaze and found the other man grinning. Even Archer had a quirk to his lips.
“Your turn,” Oderin said to Faren.
Mariana rocked back on her feet, arms sliding from his neck, fingers curling against his shirt. She was smiling at him for a different reason, now, but Faren didn’t comprehend.
“What do you mean?” he asked. “My Oath is already gone.” Was that not part of the reason Phina had been badgering him with tests and questions?
He’d overheard the adepts whispering frantically about the ramifications of dissolvable Oaths—the potential impact on the stability of the kingdom.
What more was there for the ledgermasters to do?
“You may have it back, if you want it,” Oderin clarified.
“I could use a good captain among my ranks—now more than ever.” The Major shared a glance with the Heir of Lothgaim.
“So could Archer, if you’d prefer to serve the realm as one of Lothgaim’s Mighty—be closer to your family.
Whatever you want, Faren. The choice is yours. ”
Faren’s hands fell to his sides.
Mariana let go of his shirt and stepped aside. “Go on.”
Sorrel and Lottie were rearranging the huge tomes on the cart, using two hands and all their strength to heft the Ledger of the Mighty into position. The spine groaned as they gently opened the book, the giant pages whooshing as they sought his name.
Faren recalled the day he’d taken his Oath.
The hope for purpose, courage, and glory taking root in his stomach.
Loyalty flowering in his lungs. That desperate urge to make something of himself before the end growing stronger.
As he’d recited the words, he’d envisioned his whole life laid out before him, all rolling hills and promise.
There had been nothing he loved more than the idea of mattering to the realm.
A fearful motivation that he’d shaped into something noble.
For so long, Faren had sought meaning in his roles and titles—but meaning couldn’t be found in external validation.
Meaning was found in making Pete laugh after losing everything.
It was reading to Timand on the floor in the Bellkeep’s home.
Attending a wedding in Waldron. Bickering with his sisters.
True meaning was loving Mariana in the way she deserved: without Oaths, without restraint.
Faren didn’t regret his time in the Mighty. But Faren was different now.
His Fate had come and gone, and he was standing in a new land, filled with new potential. And while Faren still loved the realm fiercely and would carry the tenets of his former Oath in his heart forever, he could no longer commit himself to the charge.
“Major Farkept,” Faren began. “Serving the Mighty Knighthood of Fenrir for the past decade has been among the most rewarding, fulfilling, and meaningful experiences of my life. I am a better man because of the camaraderie and purpose the Order provided me. And I am eternally grateful for your trust and—dare I say—friendship. So, I…apologize.” Faren cleared his throat, lifted his chin.
“Your offer is an honor, but I cannot accept.”
Oderin’s throat bobbed. He did not seem angered by Faren’s speech, just perplexed. “‘Cannot’?” the Major repeated.
“I’m afraid I no longer meet the requirements of the Mighty Oath.”
“Care to clarify?” Archer asked.
Faren wrapped his arm around Mariana’s waist. “I am incapable of holding nothing in higher regard than the realm. Not so long as the woman standing beside me still breathes.”
Mariana gaped up at him.
He smiled warmly at her, the star around which his entire world revolved. Then he faced to two most powerful men currently standing on Fenriran soil. “It’s time I explore a new Fate.”
Oderin’s gold-brown eyes darted between Faren and Mariana, then narrowed. “I suppose I’ve done this to myself,” he remarked, scratching his stubbly jaw. “I assume you will not be convinced otherwise?”
“Faren,” Mariana began, “you don’t have to—”
“I know what I want,” Faren replied—to both of them.
Archer sighed. “Well, this was a rather pointless meeting for me to attend,” he said.
“Faren, I am glad you are in love and did not die. You and your family remain welcome in my home anytime.” To Oderin, he said, “I am needed elsewhere.” With that, the Heir of Lothgaim turned on a heel and strode through the curtains, the sounds of his footsteps cutting off abruptly as he left the confines of Sorrel’s sound magic.
Accustomed to Archer’s brusque nature, Faren was the first to recover from the Heir’s abrupt exit. “Knowing you’re in want of a captain, I do have a suggestion.”
Oderin scraped a palm over his jaw, then gestured for Faren to continue.
“We would not have succeeded in the Great Hall without Warner Kenting,” Faren said.
“He fought bravely in defense of the realm while navigating near-impossible circumstances for his Oath. I know he can be rather unserious and promiscuous at times, but he is a fine knight with a strong character and a deep respect for his charge. He would serve you well.”
Oderin was stroking his chin again. “You know, I’m hurt, Faren,” he began.
Faren stiffened.
“You sound as if you believe good humor and social skills are a downside to knighthood.” A grin crept across Oderin’s lips. “Do you not know me at all?”
Relaxing, Faren chuckled. “Apologies, Major Farkept.”
“Warner is a fine suggestion.” Oderin’s expression turned wry. “I’ll take him into consideration.” He swiveled to leave.
“You might consider re-knighting Lee Verell, too,” Faren said in a rush. “And Shae is—”
“Yes, yes,” Oderin said, waving a hand dismissively. “Make me a list.”
With that, the Major left. He was soon followed by the ledgermasters, who bowed at Faren and Mariana before covering the cart with the sheet and wheeling the books out.
Sorrel’s magic faded, and the bustle of the infirmary returned to Faren’s ears—but alone with Mariana again, at last, he barely noticed anything happening outside the closed curtains.
Faren spun, hoisting Mariana onto the edge of the bed.
She made a muffled squeal of surprise, clutching his shoulder for balance as he stepped between her knees.
He framed her neck with his fingers, using his thumbs to gently tip her chin up.
The skin of her throat was beautifully bare.
He pressed his mouth to the place where her Oath tattoo had once been and relished her hum of pleasure.
Then he pulled back, and—still holding the whole world in his hands—he said, “You’re free. ”
Her dam of emotion fractured, then broke completely. Tears welled in her dark eyes, then tracked unbidden down her cheeks, her chest convulsing with silent sobs. He swept the tears aside with his thumbs.
“What are you feeling?” he wanted to know.
“Happy.” She shook her head, though, as if that wasn’t quite right. “Happier than I ever thought possible. But I…I can’t believe you refused Oderin’s offer.”
“You can’t believe it?” Faren said, feigning dismay. “That means I have yet to properly demonstrate my devotion.”
She pushed lightly at his chest, but he didn’t budge. “Faren, you know what I mean.”
“I do,” he murmured, ghosting his lips across hers. “But remember what I told you in Brine?” The salt of her happy tears met the tip of his tongue like the sweetest confection. “When I love something, I love it all the way.”
“You also said love would be ruinous,” she pointed out.
“That’s true,” he mused. “You, Mariana, have thoroughly ruined me. I love you without end.”
Her soft, relinquishing sigh heated his face, igniting his magic.
Goosebumps rose along the sides of her neck, stoking the fire in his veins.
With delicate fingers, he tipped her head a little farther back.
Plush lips parted for him, waiting. He would never tire of this: the privilege of this impossibly strong woman so pliant and trusting in his hold.
Faren kissed her slowly, tenderly, feeling everything.