Page 22 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

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Noble

N oble loved the look of Hattie angry. Always had.

When they were young, he used to rile her up on purpose—a teasing comment, a playful shove—just to spot the unique shade of raspberry-pink that would sweep across her fair cheeks.

It was times like those that Noble felt lucky to possess sight magic, so he could catalogue the exact hue of her exasperation.

To see her unique beauty in heightened detail was a gift that he’d never taken for granted, not even when he was sixteen. Especially then.

Of course, back then, she usually shoved him back. Scolded him with a whiny Noooble! Descended into lilting laughter.

But Hattie wasn’t laughing now. Nor was her blush the color of raspberries.

Her current expression was elemental: pure ice in her blue eyes, a wildfire blazing across her face.

Her freckles might as well have been sparks drifting on a hot wind.

Her mouth—a deliciously deep mauve speckled with a few of those sparks—was screwed up in the prettiest scowl he’d ever seen.

He felt both chilled and heated by her presence, a hum in the air between them like imminent lightning.

He was a bastard for enjoying her rage, but they’d both grown up in such a controlled setting that, to him, her expressiveness had been pure rebellion.

No matter how hard her family tried to train the emotion out of her, no matter how hard Hattie had tried to hide her feelings in mixed company, she was still the most emotionally honest person Noble had ever met.

And in a life ruled by decorum and lies, it was refreshing to witness the range of her feeling.

After all, the uncontainable version of her was the purest version of her.

It didn’t matter that the more she emoted, the more Noble had to rein his true feelings in; the burden of holding it together for the both of them had always been worth it to him, just to see her be herself.

“How are you here ?” Hattie exclaimed, touching her temple as if his presence pained her ( It probably did , he thought bitterly). “This has to be a cruel joke organized by the Fates themselves.”

“If only,” Noble muttered.

Phina shifted her weight, eyeing the two of them. “Am I missing—”

“You’re an herbal alchemist?” Hattie was shrill, fuming, as if he’d stolen something that was meant to be hers. “How is that possible ?”

“Metalworker, actually,” Noble corrected, folding his arms across his chest.

Hattie’s eyes tracked the movement, lingering on his biceps.

It was a stark reminder of the tenuousness of their reunion.

The last thing they needed was Phina—or anyone else—catching on to their…

familiarity. Noble’s father’s reputation spanned the continent; connecting Hattie to Noble’s family could lead someone to deduce her true identity, and that wouldn’t just put Hattie at risk, it would endanger Raina’s future, too.

Thankfully, Hattie was too angry to linger on whatever remnants of ill-advised attraction she still felt for him. “Your Oath tattoo implies you’re a knight, not an adept,” she stated, jutting her chin in the direction of the faded black ring around his neck.

“Retired knight.”

“And which Order was that again? ”

“Nice try.”

She scowled.

He couldn’t tell Hattie his former Order even if he wanted to—and besides, that was off topic. Sort of.

“I’m not an adept, either.” He lifted his wrist, showing off his Oath of Allegiance tattoo, which was thinner and more faded in color than the mark of an Adept Oath. “I’m just here to utilize the forge.”

“You’re as much a part of my team as anyone else,” Phina said, gesturing to the sprawling lab below, before regarding Hattie again. “Noble is our lead metal alchemist on this project, just returning from a year-long apprenticeship in Waldron—though I take it you know him better than he let on?”

“It was my job to keep to myself,” Noble reminded them both coolly.

For a moment, Hattie looked… caught . “We don’t know each other that well.” Her eyes flicked to his, narrowed. Then she rested her fists on her hips. “He probably downplayed our familiarity because he was embarrassed to admit that he never tipped his barkeep.”

A small, surprised cough burst out of him at her blatant lie, but rather than defending himself, he shrugged. “You got me.”

Phina watched the exchange carefully, as if she were trying to make sense of his and Hattie’s dynamic.

Good luck with that .

“I always forget how insular small towns can be,” Phina remarked finally.

“That’s one way to put it,” Noble mumbled.

Hattie’s arms fell to her sides, limp. “Why didn’t you tell me, Noble?”

Her anger was dissipating, leaving behind an ashen pallor. She was hurt, he realized. More hurt than a stranger ought to be about another stranger’s secrets—but when it came to their friendship, she’d always been a terrible actress.

Noble itched to comfort her, tell her everything , but he had to keep up the chilly act. Keep her at arm’s length. He clenched his molars, assuming a stern expression. “Wasn’t my place. ”

“He was under strict orders,” Phina added. “No one outside the program was permitted to know why he was in Waldron.”

“Is Richold part of the program, too?” Hattie asked. “Is that why you were studying with him?”

“Richold believes I’m an enthusiast, nothing more.” Noble spared a glance in Phina’s direction. When she offered a small nod, he went on. “I went to Waldron to learn his techniques for working with Gildium, which is a rare metal that—”

“—was used to forge the Mirrors of Fate,” Hattie finished for him.

Phina arched a brow, but Hattie’s knowledge didn’t surprise Noble. She’d always been too clever for her own good. And given her closeness to Anya and Idris…who knew what they’d told her?

“But I thought this study was about Hylder?” Hattie asked her professor.

Noble’s jaw ticked. Phina had requested he not divulge that he was the one Hattie had helped in the alley; she didn’t want Hattie to know the extent of his involvement in this program—his dependency on it.

Selfishly, he didn’t want Hattie to know his shame, either. Though he had no right to her affection—and couldn’t act on his own desires without endangering her—he did take pleasure in knowing she cared. That their friendship had… meant something—and still did, even if only in hindsight.

But if Hattie learned the truth, she’d be sure to change her mind about him.

Thankfully, all that was moot. His Oath—even in retirement—prevented his honesty, regardless of what any of them wanted.

“There are many parts to the study, Hattie,” Phina clarified, “but Gildium and Hylder are our two primary areas of interest.”

With an air of suspicion, Hattie took in her surroundings.

First, the gardens beyond the balcony, an impressive expanse of green vegetation and golden light.

Next, the high structure of the glass dome, its window panels providing a temperate climate in defiance of Fenrir’s natural chill.

Finally, the back wall of the mezzanine, where clear jars of liquid of various hues—from crystalline turquoise to opaque algae-green—had been arranged in neat rows on open storage shelves.

A vertical line formed between Hattie’s eyebrows.

Noble knew that look—not anger this time, but consideration.

Curiosity. It was the same expression Hattie got when they used to read together in the castle library, and she happened upon a passage she didn’t quite understand.

The musculature in her forehead shifted, a slight furrowing that signaled to Noble that she was turning something over in her mind—pondering an idea from various angles.

When Hattie faced Noble and Phina again, her expression was purely academic. “I understand Hylder—but what does Gildium have to do with monsters?”

Noble had not expected that . He blanched.

Phina, on the other hand, chuckled. She extended an arm, gesturing for Hattie to walk with her. As the two women took the stairs side-by-side, Noble followed.

“The primary intent of this study is to bind Hylder to Gildium,” Phina explained.

Hattie—her anger fully forgotten—glanced over her shoulder at Noble with a mix of disbelief and excitement. It reminded him of the glances they shared as adolescents, across dining tables and ballrooms, wide-eyed and filled with meaning.

This glance said, Are you hearing this?

Unable to help himself, he offered a faint smile. Just you wait .

“ Your role, however, is Hylder,” Phina went on. “We’ll start by having you compare your tincture to mine. Note the variations. Experiment with different sources. And you’ll assist the other researchers with notation and organization.”

Hattie was quiet for a few steps. Absorbing .

Noble focused on the back of her elegant neck. A couple ringlets had come loose from her bun and bounced with her buoyant gait. Her hair was a blend of wheat and gold threaded with individual strands of strawberry blonde. He knew from brief, platonic touches in youth that her curls were silky-soft.

“Purification and containment,” Hattie mused aloud—then looked sharply up at Phina. “You’re seeking some kind of cure, aren’t you?”

Noble all but stumbled, but Phina took Hattie’s realization in stride, giving nothing away. “The true purpose of my research is not your concern.” Phina’s Oath prevented her from divulging everything to her apprentices, but Hattie was smart, persistent, and not easily deterred.

Hattie glanced over her shoulder at Noble again, beaming. This glance said, I can’t believe I’m a part of a real study .

All he could offer was a tight-lipped frown. He was happy for her—so miserably happy to see her realizing her dream—but he was also dismayed. By her nearness. The dangers. The incomprehensible risks of Hattie being a part of this research in particular.

“But metal and herbs can’t be bound—can they?” Hattie asked as she and Phina reached the base of the stairs. “Metal doesn’t possess the open alchemical threads of herbs.”

“Most metals don’t, no,” Phina said. “But Gildium is different. It’s what the artisans refer to as a living metal.”

A faint ringing was beginning to fill Noble’s ears.

The more excited Hattie became about what Phina was involving her in, the more Noble began to fear for her safety.

There was considerable danger in being a part of Phina’s research, not just because programs such as this were historically fraught, and this one was being funded by a lord who was known for shady politics, but because they were fiddling with materials they didn’t fully understand.

Tinkering with the wills of the Fates. Altering the laws of nature.

Fear tethers you to your humanity .

Noble halted, gripping the banister.

In the midst of his disquiet, Hattie had asked another question—one he didn’t hear—and Phina was now elaborating. “That’s where the research gets interesting…”

The women didn’t notice that they’d lost him; they disappeared into the reading alcove, discussing the details of the study. Meanwhile, Noble stood there, sweating.

He’d only meant to visit the capital for a couple days—just long enough to get more tincture—but somehow the combination of its waning efficacy and his need for better resources for Gildium experiments had resulted in Noble agreeing to work in Phina’s lab indefinitely…

alongside the one woman he ought not engage.

Had he known what was waiting for him in the city, he might not have left Waldron—just tied himself to the bed in his tiny cottage and allowed the change to overcome him, consume him. At least if he became a monster, his external appearance would match how wretched he felt on the inside.

Noble gave his head a shake, trying to clear away his dark thoughts. He stared down at his hand gripping the banister, the little scars of hard labor and his former Order on his hands. His knuckles grew pale as he gripped the wood, holding on as if his life depended on it.

He should not have let Hattie join this program. He should’ve tried harder to dissuade Phina from including her. It was too dangerous for her, and his presence only made that worse. And yet.

And yet .

Studying here was her dream.

And that dream…that dream had facilitated the most effective tincture he’d consumed in months —the first flicker of hope. He felt caught between his urge to keep Hattie safe and see her thrive. To be near her and leave her well alone .

With a sigh, Noble glanced around. Throughout the lab, apprentices were cultivating the materials that would one day set him free—hopefully. And he was a part of it. That, too, gave him purpose.

Which reminded him: what was his task for today?

The same thing as always , he told himself. The forge .

He swiveled, heading to the spacious workshop that Phina had set up just for him.

There was nothing like metalworking to force him to focus on lesser concerns.

Heat. Consistency. Alchemy. The process of tempering Gildium left no room for Noble to fret about the secrets Phina was telling Hattie, the dangers she was about to be exposed to, and his own culpability in it all.

But as Noble dove into his thankless task of trying and failing to work Gildium into submission, the fretful feeling remained.

His heart was a cracked egg, dripping slimy yolk into the pit of his stomach, reminding him that no matter how hard he tried to get over his childhood obsession—his forbidden love—he could never truly escape her or the ways he let her down.

His future might’ve been unknown according to the Mirrors, but it seemed the Fates were determined to bring him and Hattie together—no matter how disastrous their reunion might prove to be.