Page 10 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

Affliction

Noble

T hat was close , Noble thought bitterly as he paced the woven rug in Phina’s chambers.

His last week on the road to Fenrir City had been rough, filled with nightmares and disturbing urges that had left him so ragged that for the final two nights of his travels, he’d eschewed sleep altogether.

Upon his arrival in the capital, he’d immediately sought Phina for more tincture, but the curse had almost caught up to him.

Thank the Fates he’d stumbled upon Mariana, who knew of his affliction and where Phina could be found.

Thank the Fates that when Phina didn’t have any Hylder on her person, Hattie had been nearby—carrying exactly what he needed.

Hattie’s unexpected preparedness was perplexing— concerning —but for tonight, he was grateful. He didn’t want to consider what might’ve happened if even another ten minutes had passed without it.

But fuck , that had been close.

At first, when his sight magic had snagged on the pretty blue of her dress shifting behind the slats of a stack of old crates, he’d thought she was a drunk Collegium student semi-passed-out in the alley.

Nonthreatening. Then she’d revealed herself with that bottle of his temporary cure, and within the depths of his sleep-starved brain, a different sort of panic had clutched him.

He hadn’t turned his back to her to spare her of the dangers of his secret—though that was a worthwhile reason not to tell her.

No, he’d hidden his face because, selfishly, he didn’t want her to think differently of him. He didn’t want—

Fates , he didn’t want any of this.

“You recognized her,” Phina observed. “The apprentice. Hattie.”

She was leaning against the doorjamb, watching patiently as he walked off the excess adrenaline. He’d been awake for the past thirty-six hours, yet he felt hot as a spark burning through paper.

“From Waldron.” Not a lie, but not the barest truth, either.

“Small towns,” Phina muttered with a scoff, pushing off from the wall. “Drink?” Without waiting for his answer, Phina strode over to a wheeled cart that was crowded with crystal decanters.

“Any idea why she followed you?” Noble asked.

Phina lifted a shoulder. “She’s a…gregarious apprentice.”

“She’s in your class?” Suddenly he had to know: “Is she any good?”

She had to be.

How many afternoons of his adolescence had Noble spent trying not to stare at Hattie as she poured over encyclopedias and compendiums in her family’s private library?

While she’d memorized the names and properties of healing herbs, Noble had memorized the pattern of deep brown freckles on the side of her creamy neck.

He used to peek at her from behind the pages of a novel and watch helplessly as she tipped her head to one side while reading, or scrunched her pert nose while taking notes, or licked her plump bottom lip in thought.

If Hattie had retained even half as much of the books as Noble had of her mannerisms back then, she must’ve been an excellent student.

Of course, Phina was oblivious to his bias—and, if he could help it, she’d remain that way. Noble reported to Phina for his Gildium studies, he respected her deeply, owed his life to her—but the safe-keeping of Hattie’s secret superseded all else.

Phina hefted a decanter, removed the stopper, and sniffed. “Thankfully for you, she’s smart enough to properly balance a Hylder tincture. ”

There was no context in which he could ask follow-up questions without giving away how much he cared about Hattie’s ambitions, so he continued pacing.

“How do you feel?” Phina prompted.

How did he feel?

Noble rubbed the back of his neck, assessing his inner state. Waning panic. Antsy exhaustion. Blessed calm .

In fact, he was calmer than he’d felt in months . Was it possible that Hattie’s tincture was more effective, somehow? No, that had to be his bias again.

“I feel like shit,” he answered honestly. “But also like myself.”

The remark made Phina snort, but it didn’t entirely ease the tension in her forehead.

Something else must’ve been troubling her.

But as she busied herself with selecting a decanter, it was clear to Noble that she wasn’t in the mood to discuss it.

At least, not yet. So, rather than prying, Noble looked around the ornate room.

Last he was in Fenrir, Noble had visited Phina’s home, a quaint but welcoming cottage on the outskirts of the city.

Her Collegium chambers were neither quaint nor welcoming.

Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves were overstuffed with dusty tomes in shades of moss green, rusty orange, and faded brown.

There was an imposing writing desk, a bed in the corner that looked like an afterthought.

Heavy velvet curtains framing a lone window.

No wonder Phina seemed so subdued compared to the last time he saw her, with new shadows under her eyes.

The stodgy accommodations were obviously stifling.

The music of liquid filling cups had Noble turning back toward his host. “Have you always had onsite chambers?”

Phina chuckled, but the sound wasn’t jovial.

“I was awarded numerous unwanted luxuries when Lord Haron took interest in my research,” she said.

“For a while, I went back and forth to the cottage, determined to retain a sense of—I don’t know, independence?

self?—but the late nights eventually caught up to me. I haven’t been home in months.”

“Well, the look suits you.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

A chuckle. “You’re right. I was just being polite.”

Phina handed him a cup of what smelled like brandy. “What suits me is having funding for my research. The rest is just…” She waved a hand, dismissive, then gestured for Noble to sit in one of the upholstered reading chairs by the window.

Reminded of why he was here, he resumed pacing instead. “Is it safe for me to imbibe after…?”

Phina settled into her seat and crossed one leg over the other. “You seemed like you needed a drink.”

That was permission enough. The brandy was a sweet burn on the back of his palate as he continued his travels back and forth across the rug.

“You’re lucky Hattie had what you needed tonight.”

His steps faltered; he covered it up with another sip of brandy. “Jumping right into it, are we?”

“I thought we’d undergone sufficient preamble, but I’ll endure more small talk if you prefer?”

“No. Continue.”

“So, do you know why?”

Between the sleepless nights and the come down from tonight’s adrenaline, he didn’t follow. “Why what?”

“Why she had what you needed?”

“I don’t.” He rolled his neck; when normally he felt like a coiled spring, he currently felt more like a pile of unspooled ribbon, loose and silken.

“Whatever she gave me was…” He did another internal assessment, feeling for the ever-present curse in the back of his mind and fi nding it especially subdued.

“It was effective, Phina. More so than the last batch. Do you know—”

“I didn’t have time for proper analysis with you writhing in an alley, but yes, I noticed her tincture was strong.”

He had no idea what to make of that.

“She mentioned a knight who recently retired in Waldron,” Phina continued. “Do you know an Idris Togren?”

Noble shrugged. “I keep to myself.”

“Not what I asked.”

“He’s in love with the innkeeper. Hattie’s employer.”

Phina’s cheeks tightened, a barely imperceptible shift. “Hattie works for Idris’s lover?”

He nodded.

“ Hm .”

“What?”

“I’m afraid she knows more than she ought to about”—Phina gestured at his general state of wretched being—“you know.”

“Monsters,” Noble supplied flatly.

Phina stared into her cup for a moment. “She knows Mariana, too. Do you think it’s possible she’s aware of the existence of the Order of the Valiant? Their purpose?”

The Valiant were one of Lord Haron’s covert Orders, in which skilled criminals were offered knighthood as an alternative to the dungeons.

The Valiant’s sole duty was to protect the realm from horrendous monsters called Morta, along with any poor souls afflicted with the poison of a Morta’s bite—usually animals.

Noble’s former Order had caused him to encounter many Valiant Knights over the years.

He tossed back the rest of his brandy and set the empty cup on a side table. “Ask Mariana. The leakage of her Order’s secrets is her problem, not mine. ”

“I’m afraid you are mistaken.” Phina uncrossed her legs and rested her forearms on her knees. “Whether you like it or not, you’re in this . From the moment you agreed to partake in my research—”

“Your research is the only thing keeping me—”

“—you gave up your right to decide what is and is not your problem. At least when it comes to my work.”

Talk of her research had his mind pivoting to the particulars. He’d been in Waldron for a year, and due to the clandestine nature of Phina’s work, her letters to him had been few—and vague. “Have you learned anything new?” he asked. “Any luck?”

“A good alchemist does not rely on luck,” Phina replied tartly. “But no. No answers yet.”

He would’ve been devastated if he hadn’t expected that response. “New insights, then?”

“Depends on your research.” She took a quick sip of her brandy. “What have you learned in Waldron?”

“Not enough,” Noble grumbled. “The resources there are…lacking.”

“Perhaps it’s time to apply your newfound knowledge here, in my lab, with my resources.”

“I’d rather not stay, Phina.”

“You might not have a choice, Noble.” She sat back, tattooed fingers laced around her cup. “But don’t think I didn’t notice the way you evaded my question. Do you think it’s possible Hattie knows why the Order of the Valiant exists?”

Noble balled his fists, suddenly furious that Hattie had been dragged into the fucked-up machinations currently transpiring between the knights and adepts of Fenrir.

He resumed pacing. “I don’t know, Phina,” he said, annoyance in his tone. “As far as I’m concerned, Hattie is just an innocent barkeep from an inconsequential small town on the Wend. ”

“Waldron,” Phina said, setting her drink aside. “The same small town where you’ve resided for the past year. The same small town where one of the last true Gildium artisans retired. The same small town where Idris Tog—”

“I get it,” Noble interrupted.

“Do you?” Phina asked, gripping the upholstered arms of her chair. “Because I don’t.”

He shrugged. “What do you want me to say? That I recognized Hattie? Sure. I’ve seen her around plenty. But as for what she knows and does not know, I am in the dark as much as you are.”

“She knows nothing of your intentions?”

“Nothing.” Of that, he was certain. He’d made sure of it.

Phina nodded, accepting his words. “Well. She is, unfortunately, more aware of the secrets that the Valiant protect than she ought to be, which puts her in danger.”

Noble ran a palm over his jaw and glanced away, trying to get ahold of the emotions on his face before—

“You care for her.” It was not a question.

When he faced Phina again, he made sure to make his expression hard. He was well practiced at concealing his fondness for Hattie. “I care for any innocent who is unnecessarily swept up in Lord Haron’s dealings.”

“Nice to know you care about me, then, too,” Phina quipped.

Did she truly see herself that way? Caught in the Lord’s scheming because of her expertise? To anyone outside the situation, Phina seemed fortunate to have been chosen for patronage by the Lord—but maybe Phina didn’t have as much autonomy as she let on.

“What do you plan to do about her?” Noble asked.

“The only thing I can do, without raising suspicion,” Phina said. “I have to bring her into the fold.”