47. Ceremony
Ceremony
Faren
Faren adjusted his rust-colored sash, smoothing the ceremonial fabric over the curved plane of his breastplate.
In the floor-length mirror, he appeared even more resplendent in his Captain’s garb than he’d imagined when he was a new recruit.
Arcane symbols had been engraved into his breastplate at the shoulders, denoting his new rank.
His armor had been polished to a high shine.
The well-fitting and expertly stitched tunic and trousers underneath fit his body perfectly.
And the hilts of his swords—sheathed across his back in an X—gave him a formidable air.
Paired with his clean-shaven face and washed hair, he’d never looked more like a hero.
He’d never felt more like a fraud.
“You look like an insufferable prick,” Kate said, sidling up beside him and looping her arm through his.
“Ceremonial garb is always tedious,” Persephone put in from the settee behind them, not even bothering to glance up from her book.
“I think the colors are rather regal,” Eva replied as she perused a truffle dish on the opposite end of the room. “Lothgaimian green never suited his complexion, anyway.”
The Haywards had arrived at Castle Might four days prior, along with Archer Loth and a smattering of other court nobility, plus a notably large (and travel-weary) host of Mighty Lothgaimian Knights.
Faren’s reunion with his sisters had been a noisy affair, what with all of Beatrice’s screaming and Eva’s crying, and he wouldn’t’ve had it any other way.
He might’ve felt perpetually out of place within the hierarchy of his family’s status, but his family members were dear to him. He’d missed them.
Over the past few days—when Faren wasn’t on duty, meeting with Oderin, or visiting the healer to ensure his wound continued to heal properly—he had spent his free time attending Unity Festival parades, tournaments, and feasts with his family.
Not to mention loitering in the opulent sitting room of their guest suite.
His desire to visit with them was genuine, but so too was his rising paranoia.
Faren blinked down at his older sister, deciding to ignore her insult. “You are a vision,” he said, then lifted his voice to the room at large. “You all are.”
Eva fiddled with the ruffled sleeve of her pale green gown.
Persephone—draped in a billowy teal dress—wrinkled her nose at her book.
“Kate’s the only one who looks good in green,” Beatrice said, flouncing out from a conjoined room wearing a beaded lime gown. She slapped at Persephone’s propped-up legs, and—once they were out of her way—plopped down on the settee with a humph.
Kate rolled her eyes, then smoothed her hands awkwardly down the bodice of her emerald dress.
While most of the Hayward children took after their mother—with light brown hair, stern jawlines, and skin that tanned easily—Kate had taken after their father.
Her pale skin and narrow bone structure were indeed complimented by the green, but that didn’t hide the fact that she despised formalwear. And court duties in general.
Faren wished she hadn’t come.
He wished none of them had come.
Tonight was the Unity Ceremony at Castle Might.
The night when all the nobility of Fenrir and Lothgaim would be in the same place at the same time.
The night when Lord Haron would bestow Faren (and a few others) with promotions.
The night the Valiant were most likely to show up with an army of enhanced knights to enact their bloody rebellion.
It didn’t matter that his siblings all had favorable Fates, with peaceful Death visions; with Morta near, nothing was certain.
Kate rested her head on Faren’s shoulder, meeting his eyes in the mirror. “Flattery aside, you still look like a prick.”
He forced a smile. “If you think I look like a prick now, just wait until you see me on the dais, receiving my new title.” He contorted his smile wider. “You sure you don’t want to skip the ceremony altogether?”
“That was barely funny the first three times you suggested it,” Beatrice said. “I’m beginning to wonder if you’re serious.”
“We didn’t endure such an abhorrent journey for nothing,” Persephone mumbled.
Apparently, their trip to Fenrir had been especially trying: punishing weather, broken wagon wheels, and spoiled rations.
“Whoever decided to set this Unity Ceremony on the cusp of winter is an imbecile,” she added with a grumble.
“That was Archer,” Beatrice said. “He didn’t want it to conflict with his wedding.”
Persephone scoffed and flipped the page in her book.
Eva set down her truffle and faced Faren, clearly hurt by his suggestion. “Do you not want us in attendance?”
Kate turned away from the mirror to meet his eyes for real. “Was this not your entire goal when you left home? To make a name for yourself outside the Hayward shadow? You’ve been so adamant about the importance of your service, yet now you’re—”
“You don’t have to pretend to care about my status in a neighboring territory,” Faren stated, hoping that if he downplayed his achievement, they wouldn’t feel obligated to attend. “As Mother, Father, and Rown have pointed out, Captain is still a step down from what I could’ve been in Lothgaim.”
“You’ve done well for yourself,” Eva argued. “We’re all proud of you.”
“Who cares about Rown’s opinion?” Beatrice muttered.
“It’s not like you to disparage your own accomplishments.” Kate placed her fists on her hips. “What’s this really about?”
A stab of worry lanced through his chest, the same one that had been piercing him seemingly every other moment since he’d returned to Fenrir City.
The past three weeks had been a trial in restraint, of skirting uncomfortably close to the boundaries of his Oath to warn his Mighty friends with frustratingly veiled language and to fruitlessly suggest to his family that perhaps they ought to leave Fenrir City early.
All with little luck.
“The ceremony will be tedious,” Faren said, swiveling to address the room. “You despise tedium. I’m merely trying to save you all the hassle.”
“Our last visit wasn’t tedious, remember?” Beatrice pointed out. “That lady knight started a brawl, and you ended up covered in squash pie.”
Kate smirked. Eva giggled into her hand. Persephone made a gagging face.
When once Faren had been mortified by what happened, his present embarrassment stemmed from how easily he’d allowed the indignity to hurt his ego. Mariana had been right: he’d taken himself far too seriously, back then.
He bit his cheek, not wanting his face to inadvertently divulge his altered feelings for said lady knight. Just the mention of her had his heart fluttering like a bird trapped in his chest, frantically nervous, but also overcome with yearning to fly free.
“But what are the chances he’ll end up covered in pie a second time?” Eva asked.
Beatrice bounced her eyebrows. “I’m sure we could increase the odds.”
Kate shook her head, a tendril falling loose from her elaborate braid. “No. There’s more to it than that.” She met Faren’s eyes. “Be honest.”
Faren gritted his teeth. That was the problem, he couldn’t be honest. Even if he wanted to break his Oath, to do so now would alert the Lord’s ledgermasters and ruin Oderin’s plans—putting his family and the realm at greater risk.
The best he could do was instill in them some suspicion. “As a Mighty Knight,” Faren enunciated, “I can’t say.”
“Well if you can’t say, then I can’t listen,” Kate replied tartly.
“Kate—”
“I think one of my pins has come loose,” she interrupted, fiddling with her intricate hairstyle. “Excuse me while I locate my maid.”
Her skirts swished as she exited the sitting room and disappeared into one of the conjoined bedrooms, where the voices of their parents and Rown drifted through a cracked door.
Faren tried to appeal to his other sisters. “Surely the rest of you might consider—”
“We’ve traveled all this way—without our paramours, in the mud and frost—to maintain our family’s prominence and serve as representatives of the Lothgaimian court,” Persephone said.
“As much as we’d all love to do anything other than make small talk with strangers in a loud and overly hot room, we must.”
“And we want to cheer on our favorite brother.” Eva held out a Lothgaimian truffle, its hard shell topped with a dried raspberry. “Don’t we?”
Beatrice grunted. Persephone turned the page in her book. Eva smiled at Faren and lifted the truffle a little higher.
He plucked it from her palm and ate it in one bite, barely tasting the jammy filling as he swallowed it down. The sugar soured in his throat; his stomach fizzed with nerves. He tried to tap into the same hopefulness he’d felt on that gauzy, golden morning with Mariana, but he couldn’t.
We have Fate on our side, Oderin had reminded Faren countless times over the past few weeks, but the Major didn’t know about Faren’s Mirror visions.
And the closer Faren got to tonight’s ceremonies, the more he wondered if—in addition to his family being at risk—he was closing in on his own Fate, too.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Great Hall, the night was inky black.
Faren peered through the stained glass, straining to see past his own watery reflection, but the world beyond—and the dangers lurking therein—remained hidden.
He turned back toward the raucous dining hall, sweeping his anxious attention across the packed space, and seeing nothing of concern.
His Captain’s ceremony had gone without incident.
He’d managed to hold in his sneer as Lord Haron recited the words, to stifle his wince as the ledgermasters updated the Ledger of the Mighty with his name, and to grin widely—woodenly—as Eva cheered and his family clapped politely from their places at Archer Loth’s long table in the center of the room.