Page 16 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)
He wiped his brow on the hem of his shirt, blotting the sweat. “Yeah.”
The thought of continuing his training session made him want to cry; missing his birthday outing with Hattie made him want to rage.
Yet there was nothing he could do. He was failing his father by not being a better fighter, failing Hattie with ruined plans, and failing himself by not being good enough for either of them.
Noble glanced past Hattie, trying to think of what he could say to ease her disappointment. The sight of a newcomer approaching from behind her had his stomach sinking further.
Bulky, blond, with cruel eyes and a conniving personality, Brendan Harrow was older than Noble by two years.
He was of noble blood—the child of a former Lord—and having lost his father shortly before the arrival of the Asheren family at Castle Wynhaim, he revered Kalden in a way that compounded Kalden’s disappointment in his own son.
Noble had recently overheard a pair of governesses whispering about the possibility of Brendan’s eventual match with Hattie.
Just two weeks ago, she and Noble had been snacking on a spread of cured meats and hard cheeses in the library—her favorite pastime, and therefore, his, too—and she’d mentioned offhand how much she detested Brendan: I’ll have to marry a nobleman someday, but Fates , please let it not be him.
Noble hadn’t known what to say, so he’d said nothing.
“But I’ve been looking forward to this all morning—all week,” Hattie was saying, oblivious to Brendan’s approach. “I baked the pastries fresh—extra chocolate and all.”
His heart squeezed. “Tomorrow, maybe?”
“What’s tomorrow?” Brendan asked, sidling up to Hattie.
She flinched at his sudden nearness—an almost imperceivable twitch, but it was obvious to Noble. “Nothing,” she said, blinking rapidly.
Brendan rested a hand on her shoulder. “Has Noble hurt your feelings?”
Hattie shook her head, shrinking away from his touch. Thankfully, Brendan had the self-awareness to let go—saving Noble from having to break his fingers.
Noble crossed his arms over his chest. “This is a private conversation.”
“Brendan,” Kalden called cheerfully from the center of the training area. “Have you come to join us?”
Brendan swiveled toward the Mighty Knight. “If you’ll have me!”
Kalden met Brendan with a chummy clap on his back. “Perhaps you can train some sense into my son, here,” he said on a laugh.
Noble offered Hattie a sheepish smile. “I am sorry,” he murmured.
“Me, too,” she said in a warbling voice, and Noble wondered if she knew that this wasn’t his doing, but his father’s—wielding disappointment against Noble in the name of discipline and hurting Hattie in the process.
It made Noble irrationally angry, which would no doubt make him a better fighter against Brendan when his short break was up.
“Tomorrow,” he stated firmly, desperate for it to be so.
“Tomorrow,” she agreed. Then she brushed an errant curl off her forehead, assuming a haughty posture. “Or perhaps I’ll just go today,” she taunted, “on my own. I’ll eat all your chocolate pastries myself, so they don’t go to waste.”
“You wouldn’t ,” he said, thrilled to be teased by her. She wouldn’t make jokes if she were truly devastated, right?
“I would,” she said, already backing away down the open corridor. “You won’t know what you’re missing, Noble Asheren.” She turned, skipping away, her dress billowing like sheets on a clothesline, like summer cumulus clouds, like the ballooning of his lungs.
“Trust me,” he muttered after she’d disappeared around the corner, “I do.”
“Whatever it is you’re thinking—don’t,” Kalden said, arriving at Noble’s side.
Noble glanced over his shoulder at Brendan, who was swinging a practice sword in the center of the training ring, warming up with unnecessary flare.
When Noble faced his father again, he assumed a mask of indifference. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Good.”
Frustration welled up in Noble, but he swallowed it like bitter bile. “Let’s resume,” he grumbled, brushing past his father and heading toward his nemesis for a brutal afternoon of pointless sparring.
Nearly thirteen years had passed since that day, and Noble—adult Noble—was still exercising the same restraint. Swallowing the same frustration.
Alone in his room at the Royal Inn of Fenrir—his home for the foreseeable future—Noble ducked under the surface of his bath.
At this very moment, Phina was probably inviting Hattie onto her research team.
When Hattie agreed—and he knew she would—Noble would once again be caught between wanting to tell her how he felt and stifling his emotions for the sake of her safety and future.
Only this time, he wouldn’t have Kalden to break their constant tension.
This time, the distractions of Waldron wouldn’t keep them apart.
Forced to work together in Phina’s lab, they’d be unable to avoid each other. They’d have to interact.
Noble really ought not look forward to it as much as he did.
He surfaced, wiping the water from his eyes.
At least in such close proximity, he would be able to look out for her—keep her safe from the perils of working on a project as volatile as Phina’s research. Then again, it was possible that the most dangerous thing to Hattie was, in fact, him .