16. Diversion #3
“Thank the Fates,” Orna was whispering. “Thank the Fates.”
Thank Mariana, Faren thought.
“It’s all right,” Pete murmured, kissing his wife’s temple. “I’m here.”
Mariana retreated, giving the couple some privacy.
She walked the short distance over to Simon and fed him a treat from her pocket.
When Sunny hung his head over the railing, too, Mariana gave him a treat as well, smiling as he nosed her shoulder for more.
As she stroked their long faces, she looked as relieved to see their horses as Faren felt.
“Orna, my dear,” Pete said, his voice wobbling with apology. He cringed as he sat upright. “How will we rebuild?”
“You won’t,” Mariana interrupted. “You can’t stay here.”
The homesteaders both regarded her, their faces stricken.
“But this is our home,” Orna protested. “Pete was born in that cottage.”
“I’m sorry,” Mariana said.
“But where will we go?” Orna asked, her voice high and shrill.
“Do you have family nearby?” Faren asked.
“I have a sister who lives in the capital, but we aren’t city folk; this is all we know, and she has no space for animals,” Orna said, gesturing at their livestock—their livelihood. “Our daughter lives in Lothgaim. She married a man from there.”
“You do miss her,” Pete said. “It would be a long trek, but we could make it.”
“With your leg?” Orna asked him.
Pete looked to Mariana, who shrugged. “It should heal,” she said, “but it’ll take time.”
“We can’t afford an inn.” Orna’s expression was pleading, distraught. “And no one nearby—no matter how generous—has the means to bring us in with winter coming. Our stores burned with the cottage.”
Faren rubbed his knuckles along his jaw. With resources scarce in this part of Fenrir, they’d need to travel to a larger town and hope that—with the right funds—some kind folks would take them in while Pete healed.
“Your best option is Brine-on-Wend,” Faren said. “I can pay for your stay, but it’s a week south on horseback.”
“That’s too generous of you,” Pete said. “We couldn’t possibly accept.”
Mariana raked her hair out of her face and sighed. “There’s a homestead three days southeast of here,” she said, sounding oddly resigned. “They have the means to take you in—at least until Pete is well enough to travel longer distances.”
Orna wiped her eyes and sniffled. “Is it even safe to travel when that…thing…is still out there?”
Mariana patted Simon’s neck. “I can escort you.”
Faren was well aware of the tenets of Mariana’s Oath. Diverting her path to escort homesteaders through the country did not fall within the requirements of her Valiant pledge, and therefore, her offer—not of obligation, but kindness—surprised him.
“I’ll come, too,” Faren announced.
Orna clasped her hands with gratitude. Pete gave Faren a respectful nod.
“That’s not needed,” Mariana cut in.
“What of the creature?” Orna asked.
“I can protect you,” Mariana said.
Faren had no doubt that she could if it met them on the road.
But what if the Morta that had attacked the homesteaders was the same one they’d fought last night?
There had been a lot of black blood in the garden, and Faren wasn’t sure Pete could’ve done that much damage to it untrained and on his own.
It was already Faren’s fault the Morta escaped Yar-on-Gray, and his fault that he and Mariana had not immediately made for the homestead.
What if it was his fault the Morta had come here, too?
He had to make things right.
“I know you can handle it,” Faren told Mariana, “but I want to help. Your way,” he assured her, hoping she understood what he meant.
Mariana watched him, her dark brown eyes tracking over his face, considering his offer.
He wasn’t sure why he sought her permission to come—he was her superior in rank, after all, and could very well do what he pleased—but he’d learned his lesson last night.
When it came to safely traversing the wilds with Morta roaming free, she was the authority.
“I would feel so much safer with a Mighty Knight looking after us,” Orna put in.
Faren winced, wanting to refute her and explain that, of anyone, Mariana was their safest guide. That—regardless of her prickly demeanor—they should feel lucky to have her looking after them. That his golden armor meant nothing compared to her mastery.
“Your mission is done,” Mariana told him—not unkindly, but matter of fact. “You are under no obligation.”
Knowing that a promotion waited for him upon his successful return, Faren was eager to get back. But while racing home to Fenrir City was not a direct betrayal of his Oath, it was a betrayal of its spirit—and his character. Because he, too, did not act only out of obligation, but kindness, also.
It seemed to be another thing he and Mariana had in common.
He waved a hand. “I can delay my promotion by another few weeks,” he joked.
The corner of Mariana’s mouth quirked, so faintly he wondered if he imagined it.
“I want to see this through,” he added more softly.
That, she seemed to understand. With a curt nod, she said, “We’ll set out tomorrow—at dawn.”