58. Alive
Alive
Mariana
Along, contented sigh hummed out of me and curled into the early morning sky. The dawn was pink and frosty. Fallow hills blushed and glittered. At last, we were alone in the fresh air and wide, endless country.
“What was that?” Faren asked. Simon and Sunny’s hooves clattered on the hard mud as we rode side by side.
“Hmm?”
“That sigh.”
“I sigh all the time.”
“Not without my hands on you.”
I rolled my eyes, even though he was right.
We’d risen early, restless and eager to reach our destination.
Faren’s tan skin was flushed from the cold, his hair ruffled by the breeze.
Without his golden armor, there was nothing to distract from the glint in his honey-colored eyes.
I quite liked this unassuming version of him; there was a looseness in his posture that hadn’t been there before.
There was a looseness in my posture, too.
No more cold, hard breastplate: I was nestled within the soft layers of my shawl, gloves, and cloak, cozy in my saddle.
No more sleeping with a dagger in my bedroll: two hours ago, I’d awoken to the press of Faren’s lips on my shoulder.
No more punishing duty: I was heading where I pleased with the person I loved, completely free.
Another sigh hummed out of my chest. “I suppose it’s only just dawned on me.”
“Took you that long?”
“It has been a long time coming.”
As a favor to Oderin, Faren and I had lingered for six weeks in Fenrir City.
I’d spent the majority of my days training Mighty Knights how to fight, apprehend, and cure the remaining Morta—a rather surreal experience, after so many years of secrecy and animosity.
Faren, meanwhile, had continued to offer up his blood and time to Phina’s lab at the Collegium.
Our evenings had consisted of raucous dinners with his family (Faren had been determined to make the most of their company before they returned to Lothgaim) and night caps at Fenrir’s Ire with Warner, Shae, and Lee.
Important, necessary, enjoyable days—but overstimulating.
The city itself remained in controlled chaos.
Monsters and Valiant still roamed the Western Wood.
The Fate of Fenrir Territory was still uncertain.
After twenty-four years wanting to escape all ties to the realm, I had found myself willing and eager to contribute to its defense.
What was freedom if the realm was still in peril?
But then a legion from Marona arrived, and crates of bottled cure were delivered from Waldron-on-Wend, and Archer Loth departed with his retinue, and Faren and I—at last—decided that our duties were done.
Now, we traveled south into the thrilling unknown of the rest of our lives.
I had once believed that I was too broken for a normal life—that, even if I achieved freedom, I’d never be able to truly live after what I’d done and witnessed as a Valiant Knight.
But lately, I’d been ruminating on what Idris had told me about love, and how—in spite of his past, so similar to mine—he’d found a way to settle happily.
If he could do it, then so could I.
“I suppose a part of me thought this day would never come,” I mused, then smiled—I’d been smiling a lot, lately, and my cheeks ached from the change.
“It’s nice.” My heart was like a caged bird, disbelieving of the open door; but with each new day, I stretched my wings a little wider.
In the quiet of the open countryside, I could finally feel myself lifting skyward.
“It’s about to get nicer.” Faren reached behind him, moving the twine-wrapped bundle of his retired swords aside so he could dig around in his saddle bag. He tossed a paper package in my direction.
I caught it with ease and tore in, moaning as I took a bite of sweet breakfast pastry. The bakery had been our final stop before leaving the city, and we’d rationed our treats over the past five days. While the dough was a little stale now, it still tasted divine.
“Fates, I love that sound,” Faren said.
“Me eating?”
“You moaning.”
“You’re insatiable,” I chided.
He lifted his own pastry in a mock salute. “So are you.”
Smothering my grin, I licked a glob of jam from the side of my hand. “When do you think,” I said, chewing, “the novelty of it will wear off?”
“Of your moans? Never.”
“I mean this,” I said, sweeping my hand out at the frostbitten landscape, then gesturing between us, “and this.”
Faren chewed thoughtfully. “I suppose at some point, you’ll stop wondering if this is a dream,” he said.
“You’ll start believing it’s real.” He reached across the gap between Sunny and Simon and squeezed my knee, his smile all charm.
“But I don’t think you’ll ever take your freedom for granted.
Just as I will never take this second chance at life for granted. ”
I thought of all the horror and awfulness I’d endured.
How often I’d berated the part of me that felt everything so deeply—not just my touch magic, but the emotion in my heart.
How much I’d yearned for tenderness and safety, to feel cherished instead of used.
After Grinnick died, it became unbearable, longing for softness when all I felt was pain.
Steel does not feel, I’d repeated to myself, making a mantra of my own suffering.
It wasn’t until Faren came along that I began to wonder if there could be joy on the other side of the emotional armor I’d welded around myself.
He was right. That experience—that grief—would stay with me forever. It was as much a part of me as my scar-crossed skin. Proof that I’d endured. Proof that I’d survived. A reminder that this joy I felt—buoyant and beautiful—was a gift.
What is love without the context of grief, anyhow?
“I still can’t believe you turned down Oderin’s offer,” I said with a slight shake of my head. “All you ever wanted was to be a Mighty Knight.” What I couldn’t bring myself to ask was: Will this new, quiet life be enough for you?
Faren seemed to see right through my words. He sat tall again, his expression far warmer than the weak winter sun. “All I ever wanted was to matter,” he corrected gently. “And I achieved that. We achieved that. We altered the Fate of Fenrir together. We made a difference.”
“Don’t you want to see it through, though?”
A shrug. “I trust Marona, Lothgaim, and Oderin to figure it out.” He paused, seeming to consider his next words carefully.
“On that gruesome day in the Great Hall, I learned something important: it’s not my deeds or duty or even glory that bring meaning to my life.
It’s the people I care about. My family.
My friends. You.” Another smile. “I don’t need an Oath to live a life of purpose.
I don’t need to prove myself to matter. All I need is you. ”
That bird in my chest lifted higher. “Won’t you get bored, living a quiet life in the countryside?”
“Bored? With you?” He scoffed. “Not possible. Besides, I always loved the country more than the city. It’s time I had the opportunity to actually appreciate the realm I spent so much of my life trying to protect. I can find new ways to be in service to the greater good.”
He finished his pastry, then brushed the crumbs from his hands and pushed the hair off his face.
My cheeks prickled with heat. Sometimes it was devastating, how handsome he was and how thoroughly I loved him.
To know it was reciprocated with the same devotion felt like the most blessed Fate imaginable.
It made me wonder if perhaps my Fortune hadn’t been about self-sacrifice, after all, but was really just a circuitous path to this.
I shoved the rest of my pastry in my mouth, smiling around the massive bite. “That was good,” I announced.
Crinkles formed around Faren’s eyes. “I hope you saved some room in your belly.”
A homestead was materializing ahead of us.
I took in the familiar rooflines and fences, which were steaming as the sun crested the tree line and burned off the frost. The rest of my pastry lodged in my throat, and I swallowed hard, momentarily disbelieving, even though I’d known all along that our journey south was leading here.
“Do you think they have any more of that delicious bacon?” Faren wondered.
“Let’s find out.” I whistled and clicked my tongue, urging Simon into a gallop.
Sunny launched after us, and Faren’s laugher was dispersed by the thundering of our horses’ hooves. The cold stung my face. My eyes burned with tears. Elation pulsed in my veins, my magic taking flight. When we reached the front path, I swung off Simon’s back and burst through the door.
The rest was a blur: my mother crying and folding me into her arms. My father embracing us both.
Bard and Celia showing us their newborn baby girl.
Pete and Orna arriving from the guest house.
The scent of rosemary and breakfast grease.
Warm socks before the hearth. My disjointed explanation of all that had transpired, met by loud cheering and more tears when I announced my freedom.
The taste of my mother’s fresh bread and laughter on my tongue.
The pleasant weight Faren’s hand on my thigh—an easy sort of affection—and the smile my father gave me when he spotted it.
My magic stirred up every bloom of heat on my skin and tingle of emotion in my heart.
And as I listened to Faren read to Timand about heroes and villains, gallant deeds and formidable foes, and good’s triumph over evil, I basked in the overwhelming sensation of this hard-won joy, feeling alive in a way I never had before.
We stayed for two weeks. Faren had insisted we could linger longer, but as much as I loved my family, living with my parents and brother were not part of my long-term plans.
Besides, we had one last errand to run for Oderin and Phina: to deliver the sensitive news of all that had transpired in the capital to a mutual friend.
We arrived in Waldron-on-Wend in the latter half of winter. When Anya opened the door to the Pretty Possum Inn I answered with a nod.
“Just one,” he told the innkeeper.
I ignored Anya’s self-satisfied chuckle as I barged past her to pour myself an ale.