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

Noble took a step closer, staring down at me through the rain-soaked tips of his hair. His pupils blew out his bright irises, making his eyes appear almost black. “What?” he intoned, taunting and sarcastic. “Are you not happy to see me?”

I lifted my chin. “You don’t seem particularly happy to see me .”

“I’m not.”

It took all my willpower not to place my hands on his chest and shove him off the dock.

“I am not happy to see you,” Noble continued coolly, “toiling in obscurity when you deserve better. I am not happy to see you hidden away in some inconsequential town, when it’s my fault, and—”

Without thinking, I reached out and gripped his forearm. “It wasn’t your fault.” The muscle beneath my palm flexed, ropey and hard; his lips pulled into a frown, and I let go. “It wasn’t your fault,” I repeated.

A streak of rainwater traced down the side of his face. The collar of his shirt was soaked through. His eyes searched mine and I wondered what he saw.

“I am not happy to see you because I am not allowed to see you,” he said firmly. “I am not allowed to—” He broke off, eyes lifting to the heavy clouds. He shook his head as if to clear it of whatever he’d been about to say.

Hold you.

Want you .

That’s what I hoped he’d been about to say. Yearning was an old, terrible habit of mine, apparently unbroken by time. Yet not only had Noble never wanted me in the way I’d wanted him—even if he did, we couldn’t .

Be near you.

Interact with you.

That’s probably what he’d meant to say.

“If you’re not here for me, then why are you here?” I asked, trying to sound more curious than hurt. Familiarity was quickly being overtaken by long-buried grief, and I wasn’t in the mood to dig it up.

“Better you not concern yourself with my goings on.”

“How long are you staying?”

“As long as it takes.”

I growled through my teeth. “Seriously? You barge into my life for the first time in eight years and you can’t even tell me—”

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” Noble pointed out.

I stomped my foot. “I’m not supposed to be anywhere .”

His jaw ticked again—the only evidence that he felt any type of way about my outburst. “Look, Hattie, I’m not here to interfere with your life. Ignore me. Pretend you don’t know me. We’re supposed to be apart, so let’s just… be apart .”

In true Noble Asheren fashion, his sentiment was completely logical and altogether infuriating. “So…what? We just live in the same small town and pretend we don’t—after all we—” I broke off before my voice cracked.

“You and I both know it’s safer that way. Not just for you, but…”

My lower lip quivered, and I caught it with my teeth, biting down to distract from the swell of anguish in my chest. I glanced out across the river, into the misty rain. A pair of swans bobbed on the calm surface, ghostlike in the haze.

Noble took another step closer. I could feel the heat radiating off of his body, steamy as a sudden break in a storm, like sunlight beaming down on wet cobblestones. Inexplicably, he reached up and grazed his thumb across my bottom lip, gently pulling it free of my canine.

We’d touched plenty of times in our youth—playful pokes, casual hugs—but never like this. The intimate, unbidden contact must’ve been from his shock at seeing me—mere evidence of our long-ago platonic affection. Nothing more , I told my hopeless heart, but still, it throbbed .

“It is nice to see you, Peach,” Noble said, that cruel and lovely mouth biting into my old nickname like the fruit it represented. “Even if I’m not happy about it.”

The reference took me back to summer mornings racing through the orchards, hot afternoons picnicking by the river, and sticky evenings sneaking Noble onto my balcony to snack on sugared peaches.

But those days were long gone. A faded dream.

His hand fell, and he turned away, walking back down the dock.

It took me several heartbeats to recover. To call after him. “Where are you staying?”

He swiveled. “The Pretty Porcupine?”

“Possum,” I corrected. “You can’ t stay there.”

“Why not?”

I met him at the base of the dock. “I live there. Tend bar there. It’s my friend’s place. You can’t stay.”

He regarded me like he was doing math in his head, calculating how I’d gone from the girl I’d been to the woman before him. “You’re too talented to tend bar.”

The comment was irrelevant. Insulting. “Oh, but being a random mayor’s wife was just right?” I retorted. “Hosting tedious social gatherings only to get shoved and struck after everyone went home?”

“He didn’t ,” Noble said darkly, scarred knuckles paling as his fists clenched.

“He did,” I stated flatly. “At least here, I have safety. Autonomy. People who love me.”

“Hattie—”

“The next time you want to compliment me, don’t put down the one place that welcomed me when no one else would.”

Noble’s throat bobbed, and he nodded.

“And if you’re going to live here,” I went on, “let’s get one thing straight: you don’t know anything about me anymore. I’m a different person now.”

He huffed a harsh, joyless laugh. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

For a moment, he looked like he’d hedge—the younger version of him probably would have—but adult Noble was…

maybe not unrestrained , but definitely sharper .

Colder. “It means I can still read you like one of your cherished alchemy books. It’s plain as day on that pretty face of yours: you still love me. ”

The taunting words hit like physical blows.

You.

Still.

Love .

Me.

My infatuation had never been a secret, but he’d been less of a prick about it when we were adolescents.

I forced a laugh, even though I felt like a bug trapped inside a small glass jar. “Seems you still think too highly of yourself.”

His lips pulled into that smug smile, even as his eyes pinched. “You know that’s not true, either.” He invaded my personal space again. “Whatever fond memory you have of me,” he murmured, “that boy is gone. Do us both a favor and forget him.”

I scowled. “Happy to.”

“Good girl.” He stepped back, about to leave.

“I am not a girl anymore, Noble,” I bit out.

His eyes dipped, taking in my figure with quick efficiency, before meeting mine again. “Clearly,” he said, but his tone wasn’t suggestive or sarcastic—it was thick, as if the fact pained him. “I’ll see you around, Peach.”

With that, he turned, abandoning me on the riverbank.

Only after he’d disappeared into the trees did I venture a breath. My tongue darted out, sweeping the same path Noble’s thumb had traced on my lower lip, savoring the residue of him with my taste magic: salt, iron, leather, and the indescribably primal flavor of his skin.

It wasn’t just my unresolved feelings for Noble that rattled me, but the collision of past and present. I might’ve insisted I was different now, but the truth was, even after eight years apart, Noble still understood me better than anyone else. Because he knew where I came from. Who I truly was.

After living a lie for so long, I’d forgotten what it felt like to be known . It was a painful relief, like working a knot in a muscle, a tension that unraveled into something tender .

A hot tear streaked down my cheek, mingling with the rainwater. How in the Fates was I supposed to live in the same town as the one person who knew the real me…and pretend we were strangers?

You will endure as you always have , I told myself. You will endure because you must .

By the time I returned to the Pretty Possum, Noble had vacated his room, and I’d shoved my heartache back into the cellar where I kept all my darkest and most painful secrets.

Where I kept the real me.