Chương 91: 091

She reluctantly nodded, glancing around the camp.

"Don't suppose I could convince you to stay put for a few more hours?" she asked.

"The sun isn't even up yet, and I, for one, don't believe in being awake before it." I snorted softly.

"The only reason I ever woke up early was because my job forced me to," I said.

"It won't take much convincing to keep me here." Even as I said it, though, my gaze drifted toward Dominicus. The bruises and cuts from yesterday stood out starkly in the pale moonlight. The silver glow carved every injury into sharp relief, painting a vivid, ugly picture across his skin. Something twisted in my chest. The urge to fix it crept in, slow and insistent, digging beneath my skin and unraveling the fragile peace I'd woken up with.

I tried to ignore it, tried to settle back into the warmth of the bedroll, into Dura's presence, but after several long minutes, I sighed and gave up. Some fights just weren't worth it.

"I'll stay," I said quietly, shifting, "after I take care of something. Can you let me up?" She raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, loosening her hold as she uncurled from around me. The moment I slipped free of the bedroll, the morning chill hit like a slap. Cold sank into my bones, sharp enough to chase away the last remnants of sleep in an instant. I pushed through it, clenching my teeth to stop them from chattering. Crossing the camp, I stopped a few feet from Dominicus.

He stilled, his head turning slowly toward me.

"Do you need something?" His tone was neutral. Carefully so. I hesitated. Maybe I shouldn't push this, it wasn't my place…but something about those injuries wasn't sitting right. I'd seen and taken enough damage over the years to recognize the signs of a beating. And this? This didn't match up. The unease that had dragged me out of the bedroll flared again, sharper this time. I gave in.

"Your wounds," I said slowly.

"They don't look like they came from another person." He snorted, the sound edged with open derision.

"Fate herself would never stoop so low as to beat me physically. She considers that sort of thing… barbaric. Petty manipulation, however?" His lips curled into a dry, humorless smile as he looked away.

"That's far more her style."

"What the hell happened to your face then?" The question slipped before I could think better of it. He didn't seem bothered, simply shrugging with that same empty smile.

"She ordered me to clear out a nest of nearby monsters," he said flatly.

"Without my sword." I barely kept from flinching.

"And you did it?" That wasn't discipline. That wasn't training. That was…cruel. Blatantly, disgustingly cruel. And this was one of Time's siblings? Someone he respected? Dominicus turned his glare back on me.

"Think, Nikolas," he snapped.

"I'm her chosen. A paladin of Fate." His jaw tightened.

"I took an oath to follow her orders. I don't get to disobey." Something cold slid under my skin and my own oath surfaced unbidden. It twisted now, something uneasy coiling through what had once felt solid. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Karma wouldn't do that, not after the years she'd spent constantly watching over me. But still, the question lingered, sharp and unwelcome. What kind of power had I handed over without thinking?

And what would happen… if I ever refused? I swallowed hard, my stomach twisting.

"I'd say it's hard to imagine someone doing that," I said slowly, "but people in power aren't always looking out for others." My gaze flicked over his injuries.

"Clearly." He grunted, some of the edge in his voice dulling into exhaustion.

"This isn't the worst trial she's given me," he admitted.

"I'll count myself lucky the nearest nest was only C-rank. Her order wouldn't have changed if it had been A or S." My stomach dropped. What the hell had he been through if this was considered mild? And more than that…

"What could breaking an oath possibly do that's worse than what she's already put you through?" I asked.

"And why did you take it in the first place?" A long, weary sigh left him.

"The cost of breaking an oath varies by spirit," he said.

"But it is always severe. Fate's… creativity is well known." He let out a humorless laugh.

"I have no desire to learn what it feels like to be turned inside out. Or to have my eyes melt in my skull. Compared to that," he shrugged, "a few nests are nothing." He paused at my second question, something quieter settling into his expression.

"I was young," he said finally.

"Foolish. I thought I was agreeing to save people and earn glory by doing it." A faint, self-deprecating smile tugged at his mouth.

"It didn't take long to realize how naïve that was." Wanting to help people only to get backhanded…Damn, didn't that sound familiar.

"If not saving people," I pressed, "then what did she actually want from you?" His expression shut down instantly, like a door slamming in my face.

"I am bound by oath not to speak of the details," he said flatly, gaze drifting away.

"Ask all you want. I will not answer." He paused, shaking his head.

"I cannot answer," he corrected.

"Or what comes next will make her last 'trial' look merciful." I raised my hands slightly in surrender.

"Alright. I won't pry." Then, quieter, I added.

"Knowing what you do now… would you still take her oath?" He went still, and for a moment, I thought he wouldn't answer. Then his head tilted slightly, the rigid mask cracking just enough.

"I don't know," he admitted. The words came slowly, like he had to drag each one free.

"I've saved dozens of people. Maybe more. People who wouldn't have lived otherwise. That was why I accepted in the first place." Another pause and he stared into the distance.

"As for her methods…" he added, almost reluctantly, "they work. Fast. The training was brutal. Her trials nearly killed me more times than I care to count, but I always walked away stronger. Smarter." A faint, bitter edge crept into his tone.

"There is always a reward at the end of the pain. A skill. Something useful."

"If you survive," I pointed out. He didn't argue.

"…Yes. Being Fate's chosen is not for the faint of heart. For many reasons." His expression darkened, something heavy surfacing behind his eyes.

"I've done things I'm not proud of," he said quietly.

"Hurt people I never wanted to harm." His jaw tightened.

"All under her orders. There's a reason she doesn't keep a chosen for long. Most people break. Only apathy has carried me this far."

"Sounds like even that cost you…" I muttered.

"Even the most hardened warrior carries regrets," he looked back to me, exhaustion pressing like a weight on his shoulders.

"The faces of those left behind… their families… They stay with me. But refusing an order?" He shook his head.

"That's worse than death."

"So you obey." I finished. He nodded.

"So I obey." A beat.

"Or I die screaming."

"…That's," I started, then exhaled.

"That's shit." Lame, but what else was there to say? Sorry that you trusted the wrong spirit? Sorry that you're tied to an apparently sadistic bitch? A short laugh escaped him.

"An apt summary." He straightened slightly, the mask sliding back into place.

"Is there anything else?" For a moment, I almost said no, almost turned around, went back to Dura, who I could feel watching this entire exchange from across camp. But his injuries were still there. Bright, obvious and wrong. They shouldn't exist, wouldn't have, if not for one spirit's cruelty. The unease that had dragged me out here refused to let go. So I gave in.

"I could heal those," I said, the words coming out before I could second-guess them.

"If you want."