Page 30 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

Inertia

Noble

H e watched her from behind tall foliage, the vantage of a predator stalking prey.

Again, she wore the white dress— always the white dress—light shining through thin fabric to reveal the outline of her legs.

She was deadheading herbs, humming to herself.

Noble felt a tingling sensation in his teeth, a desire to tear flesh.

His whole body was taut; he was both a crossbow and its bolt, aiming to strike.

But he also knew this was a dream—knew he was teetering on the edge of a nightmare.

Unlike in past dreams, Noble was aware that he was not actually a predator.

He was just a man, crouched behind the fragrant stalks of sage and mint, observing a woman whom the vile part of him wanted to consume, but whom the male part of him wanted to—

Noble sat up abruptly.

Gray light streamed through dusty curtains; dawn was breaking, and the sky was overcast with the threat of rain. Blinking, he noticed he’d kicked his blankets onto the floor, exposing his arousal—a symptom of morning, but also…

He clenched his teeth and looked away, shame and guilt twisting around his lungs like poisonous vines.

He raked his hair back with rough fingers, scrubbed a palm over his stubbled jaw.

When he caught sight of the Oath of Allegiance tattoo on his wrist, a tired exhale gusted out of him, collapsing his chest .

He’d been staying at the Royal Inn of Fenrir—the name a gimmick, not a true connection to royalty—for five weeks, and only now were the urges of his curse returning. Based on his progression, Hattie’s tincture from Waldron could be as much as twice as effective as the tinctures Phina had given him.

He’d overhead Phina and Hattie working in the garden together yesterday afternoon; he’d been on his way out of the lab when Hattie squealed with excitement.

Whatever they’d uncovered, Phina would have thoughts to report to him today.

A cure would be too good to be true, but hopefully, it was a longer-term solution.

The Fates might’ve punished him at times, but he was lucky to have met Phina.

Two years ago, when his former Order had been retired, his fellow knights had slowly, gruesomely succumbed to the affliction.

It was Phina who’d discovered a temporary remedy—a tincture to curb the transformation.

It’d been too late for the others, but with her medicine, Phina had saved Noble’s life—and launched herself into the Lord’s esteem.

When her research at the Ocs began, she’d insisted Noble take an Oath of Allegiance to join her team—not just because her research had a direct impact on his future, but because his passion for metal alchemy was useful. Thus began his study of Gildium. His journey to Waldron.

Phina might’ve had a better workshop, but fancy tools could never replace a well-timed suggestion from an expert in the material.

Lately, Noble found himself missing Richold’s soft-spoken guidance and camaraderie.

The blacksmith came from a long line of Gildium artisans, his lineage leading all the way back to the golden age of metal alchemy in Kelebraim-on-Gray.

The once-magnificent metropolis—renowned for the skill of its craftspeople—had crumbled to ruin centuries ago, but remnants of its legacy remained in folks like Richold.

In fact, it was for that legacy that Richold had agreed to teach Noble in the first place.

Without children of his own, Richold saw Noble as a son of sorts—someone to whom he could pass his knowledge.

Noble didn’t deserve the honor—he’d already disappointed one father—but he was determined to make the most of Richold’s faith and kindness.

He was determined to continue his role in Phina’s research from afar.

And with any luck, Hattie’s breakthrough yesterday had moved his departure closer.

Because he needed to get out of Fenrir City.

Over the past month, it had become painfully obvious that Hattie was harmed by his presence—and none of their rules could fix that.

He’d seen the way she looked at him in the lab: anger, fondness, desire.

The emotions on her face conveyed everything he felt in his heart, and Noble hated seeing his own misery reflected back to him.

Just because he was good at pretending he didn’t care about her didn’t mean she made it easy.

The Mirrors of Fate showed Noble nothing of his future, yet time and circumstance continually brought him back to her .

No matter how hard he tried to live his life in darkness, she was the sun around which his entire world seemed to revolve; though Noble fought her gravity, he felt constantly pulled in her direction, powerless to the inertia.

But they were meant to be apart.

They always had been.

After all, it was his fault she was sent away all those years ago, his presence that seemed to endanger her at every turn; Noble had long-ago accepted that she was better off without him.

It was time Noble took that seriously—no matter how much he wished otherwise.

And with a better tincture, perhaps he could escape Fenrir City, finish his studies with Richold, and leave Waldron before Hattie returned.

With a shiver, Noble climbed out of bed and went to the small wash basin in the corner to shave.

By the time he was done, a spitting rain was tapping on the window.

He dressed in all black, swung his well-worn cloak over his shoulders, and exited the inn, lifting his hood as he strode into the downpour.

The Collegium campus was nearly a straight shot down Rose Street.

A silvery haze of rain streaked across Noble’s vision, obscuring the ornate spires up ahead, the towers becoming dark shapes in the deluge.

Rivulets of water streamed across the cobblestones, emitting a mineral scent.

Bells tolled in the foggy distance, their echoes drowned out by the weather.

Droplets hissed on accumulating puddles, splattering Noble’s pant-legs.

He ducked under awnings when he could, lest his clothes get completely soaked on his way to the lab.

Usually, at this time of morning, the streets in this part of Fenrir were fairly empty.

But when Noble finally turned onto Adept’s Walk, he came upon a crowd.

A shadowy mass of loitering bodies congregated just outside one of the colleges, huddled under the wide archway that led into the interior courtyard.

Inver, Noble realized as he neared. Hattie’s building.

Noble spotted professors already dressed for a day of teaching, apprentices still wearing their sleeping clothes underneath their cloaks, busybody shopkeepers from nearby establishments craning their necks at the commotion.

Noble’s superior vision caught the jerky gestures of people who were afraid: quivering wrists, darting glances, shoulders that swiveled and sagged.

Gold and silver flashes of armor confirmed the presence of both Mighty and Lawful Knights.

The bells . They were an alarm.

Fear clamped a hand around Noble’s throat as he picked up his pace toward the crowd.

He caught snippets of conversation, but nothing conclusive: break-in and blood and attempt and assassin .

The more he heard, the tighter his windpipe clenched.

He pushed through the throng, shoving bodies aside, searching for familiar faces, for answers.

Finally, he spotted Phina beyond the archway, just inside the courtyard, talking to a golden-haired Mighty Knight with a double-edged battle-axe strapped to his back.

Relief spread through Noble’s limbs, and he elbowed his way through the crowd, cutting between a pair of conversing students, slipping past a professor talking to a guard, and—

An arm snapped out, barring him from going any farther. He looked down. The wrist was clad in silver-studded leather vambraces.

Noble removed his hood, glaring at the Lawful Knight who blocked him. Pulling up his sleeve, he revealed his Oath tattoo. “I’m a researcher here. Let me in.”

“‘Fraid I can’t allow—”

“Noble! Thank the Fates,” Phina called, beckoning him over.

Noble shoved past the Lawful Knight, striding across the grass toward Phina.

She broke from her conversation and jogged in his direction, colliding with him in a hearty embrace.

It lasted a mere moment before Phina pulled back, turned, and extended a hand toward the Mighty Knight with whom she’d been speaking.

“Oderin, this is Noble, my lead metalworker,” Phina said. “Noble, this is Oderin, my brother.”

Noble didn’t need an introduction to know that they were related.

In addition to their matching blond hair and brown eyes, they also had identical jawlines and the same quality in their gestures.

Having grown up among nobility, Noble knew the mark of etiquette training, of actions refined not just by tutors, but by bloodline.

“Your reputation precedes you, Major Farkept,” Noble said.

“Does it now?” Oderin perused Noble like a menu, his lips pressing into a pout. “Phina, you didn’t tell me your metalworker was so handsome .”

“Fucking Fates, Oderin,” Phina whispered harshly, “this is not the time to make advances on my researcher.”

Noble couldn’t help but chuckle. “It’s nice to meet you, Major—”

“ Oderin , please.”

“Oderin,” Noble amended. “I’ve heard great things.”

“No, you haven’t,” Phina countered, resting her fists on her hips, the perfect picture of a little sister (though her sass was slightly diminished by the fact that her clothes were soaked-through, her hair plastered to her head).

Oderin gave Noble a firm, if slightly lingering handshake. “You aren’t Noble Asheren , are you?”

“How do you know that?” Phina asked.

“I’m not the only one with a reputation. His father is General Kalden Asheren .”

Phina stared blankly at her brother.

“Mighty Knight of Marona?” Oderin went on. “He serves as personal guard to the king . He’s a walking legend, Phi.”

“Maybe among the gold brutes,” Phina replied tartly.

Oderin shot his sister a glare, then regarded Noble again, his gold breastplate glimmering with raindrops. “How’d you end up in metalwork?” he asked. “I’d’ve guessed a man like Kalden Asheren would’ve wanted his son to follow in his footsteps as a knight.”

In a few short moments, Oderin had managed to flirt with Noble and find his most tender nerve. He felt a little dizzy from the other man’s attention. “Wasn’t in my Fate,” Noble replied stiffly.

Noble glanced around. The rain was letting up, the air turning humid. Knights of various Orders meandered throughout the courtyard, managing the crowd and talking to sopping, shivering apprentices. The bells no longer rang, but there was a hum of agitation in the air. Of barely contained panic.

Oderin’s rather chaotic first impression had distracted Noble, but now he thought of Hattie again, his anxiety stirring anew. “What’s going on?” Noble asked.

Phina’s expression turned grave. “An assassin broke into Inver last night.”