42. Unhappy Fortunes #2
“But you succeeded.” There was awe in his voice. “You saved your family. By your own craftiness and strength, you took a terrible sentence and turned it into their relief.”
“My greatest Fortune is a cage,” I said.
“One that I endure, to see that those I love are free. Sometimes, I—” I bit my lips together, breaking off before I spoke my darkest truth aloud.
But if anyone could witness it with compassion, it would be Faren.
And maybe, just this once, it would feel good to put words to the feeling.
“Sometimes I wish my Fortune wasn’t so selfless.
Sometimes I wish it’d been sweeter, simpler, better. ”
“By the Fates, do I understand that,” he said, almost to himself, and the darkness inside me brightened into twilight.
We rode in silence for a few strides, our stirrups bumping as our horses drifted closer. Faren reached for me, palm up. Leaning out of the saddle, I took his hand, allowing him to squeeze my fingers, our sword callouses scraping as we let go.
“I know the Morta can warp your Fate, but…did you ever look into the Mirror of Fortune after your Fate became fixed?”
“It was the same,” I said. “A big book with strange writing on the front.”
“Strange writing,” Faren repeated.
“The language of the Arcane.”
Faren’s eyes widened. “Mariana, most Ledgers are titled in the common tongue. There are only seven written entirely in the language of the Arcane. Do you mean to tell me that—”
“The Ledger I stole was one of the Order of the Sovereign,” I said. “Fenrir’s Order of the Sovereign, to be specific.”
“You stole the Ledger that controls the Lord’s power? The Ledger that binds him to Fenrir as one of the rulers of the Seven Territories of the Kingdom of Marona? The Ledger that connects the Lord to his throne?”
“Yes.”
“No wonder he sentenced you for life,” Faren muttered. “Why didn’t you give it back?”
“I did. After I was caught, the Lord led me to believe that if I returned the Ledger, he would lift my father’s taxes and free me. But the taxes were raised, and I was put in the dungeon.”
Faren’s jaw clenched.
“The theft hurt his pride. Made him feel vulnerable,” I said. “He’s too much of a vindictive prick to give up that grudge.”
“Perhaps you should’ve stolen it back,” Faren gritted out.
“Oh, I have. Numerous times.”
“You—what?”
“Every few years, I break in, take the Ledger, and hide it somewhere in Castle Might. Lord Haron has increased the security of his libraries and vaults over time, but that has only served as further training for my thievery.” My lips twisted with a smile. “I’ve become quite proficient.”
“Why not just steal the Ledger for good?”
“He knows where my family lives. If I took it, he’d retaliate,” I said, allowing Faren to fill in the rest. Heris was right about one thing: leverage was everything.
“This way, he can’t unequivocally prove it’s me who moves it around, and because it never leaves the grounds, he can’t punish anyone for theft. ”
“Then why do you do it?”
“At first, I did it to get under his skin. Then, once I learned the truth about his plans, I realized that the thefts also interrupted his scheming. He can’t accomplish his power-hungry aims without his Ledger.
The more often it’s misplaced, the more distracted he is.
It won’t stop him, but it makes him paranoid, which slows him down. ”
“If you can get into Castle Might that easily, why did you…” His brow furrowed, as if he didn’t want to say the thought out loud.
“Why didn’t I just murder the Lord myself?”
Faren winced as if he’d insulted me.
He wasn’t wrong to wonder, though. I’d been tempted on more than one occasion. “If I got caught, I wouldn’t be able to fight my way out.”
“So you needle him instead,” Faren concluded. “Fuck,” he added on a laugh. “Slaying monsters, slowing down the Lord’s plot—you’ve done more for the realm than I could ever dream.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“When was the last time you stole it?”
“Recently.”
“So, right before the start of our mission,” Faren guessed. “Where did you put it?”
I smiled at him as warmly as I could. “That, Faren, is one thing I ought not tell you.”
“Probably for the best,” Faren conceded. “If the Lord suspected I knew anything about it, my Oath would most certainly force me to confirm…”
“Exactly,” I replied.
“Who else have you told?”
“My parents know that I stole the Ledger of the Order of the Sovereign one time, but not about the rest. The Valiant know that I break into Castle Might to move Ledgers around, but they don’t know which one I target.
I suspect the Lord is too incensed and embarrassed to tell anyone among the Knighthood the full truth; his ledgermasters are probably aware of the break-ins, but it’s unlikely they know it’s me.
” I paused, forcing some levity into my tone.
“How does it feel, knowing more of my secrets than anyone else?”
“Do I?” Faren inquired softly, as if my trust meant the realm to him. He drew himself taller in his saddle. “I suppose I feel rather smug.”
“Smug?”
“Yes, because now I am certain you like me,” he said. “There’s no denying it, so don’t even try.”
“I suppose,” I said at length, “that I’ve come to find you tolerable.”
“Ah,” Faren gushed, “no finer words have ever been spoken to me.” A wicked grin. “Except, perhaps, hearing you say ‘Please’ in that breathy, begging way you do.”
A tingling awareness spread through my core in anticipation of later, when I might beg him like that again.
“What about you?” I asked, steering us into less heady territory. “Have any secrets you’d like to share with me?”
“Nothing nearly as intriguing or relevant as yours.” He gave me a doting look, one that faded into thoughtfulness.
“Here’s one: I tell people—I tell myself—that I came to Fenrir seeking Mighty Knighthood because I wanted to make a name for myself before my Fate.
” He raked his hair off his forehead, only for a soft wave to fall immediately forward again.
“The truth is that I felt lost in Lothgaim. As a second son, I was unimportant to our line, and court life was both tedious and purposeless. I always felt like I blended into the furniture.”
The idea of him blending in—when he stood out so plainly to me in every room we entered—was hard for me to imagine.
“So you became a Mighty Knight to escape your family?” I asked. “That’s hardly a dark secret.”
“I became a Mighty Knight because I wanted to stand out. It’s a vain reason.”
“The Oath wouldn’t have accepted you if you weren’t devoted to your charge,” I pointed out.
He sighed. “Of course I love the realm, but I also want to matter within it. A better knight wouldn’t concern himself with glory.
I should be more altruistic, but I have this insatiable urge to prove myself—prove my worth outside my family name—and with my Fate looming, there’s a desperation to it.
Most folks associate Mighty Knighthood with confidence and honor, and I guess I’d hoped the title would grant me those, but I’ve never been able to escape this feeling that I’m… grasping.”
No wonder he’d clung so tightly to his duty at the beginning of this journey; no wonder he’d been so distraught to learn the truth. No wonder he was determined to hold onto his Oath above all else. He’d said it plainly back in Brine: It’s who I am.
How could anyone compete with that?
It felt like a wedge between us. A fundamental difference.
Your desires have become a fascination of mine, he had told me, but never—I knew—would they supersede this.
As much as I selfishly wished his Oath wasn’t so important to him, I also admired his loyalty and dedication.
They were two of his best qualities—even if he would never aim them directly at me.