Page 31 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

History Repeats Itself

Hattie

C an you describe what they looked like?” the Lawful Knight asked me, his blue eyes darting between my face and the notebook he held.

“I didn’t see much,” I answered. “Long brunette hair, short stature.”

We were standing under the shelter of a tunnel-like archway that led from the courtyard to the southern wing of Inver College.

I was still wearing the chemise I’d slept in, a knee-length scrap of fabric.

Thankfully, Lawful Knights had handed out spare cloaks, otherwise, my thin dress would’ve gotten entirely soaked through.

I was already cold enough with my bare legs and feet.

“Clothing?”

“Nothing distinct.” I glanced at the crowd congregating by Inver’s front gate. “Black shirt and trousers. Boots.”

“Weapons?”

“A sword sheathed at her hip,” I answered. “A dagger in her hand.”

“Blood on the blade?”

The rain was letting up, sun beams breaking through gaps in the clouds. I watched a pair of pigeons drop from their perch on an upstairs windowsill, wings clapping as they flew over the roof and out of sight.

How quickly things could change .

One minute, I had been writing a letter to Anya by candlelight—assuring her that I was being safe—and the next, a horrifying scream tore through the building.

Between Uriel, Sani, and myself, I’d been the first to make it to our door. To see the attacker fleeing down the corridor and the blood soaking into the hallway rug just a few doors down from ours.

Room 205.

Images flashed through my mind: Viren, slumped against the wall just inside her dorm, her face pale with shock.

The crimson leaking between her fingers from where she clutched her side.

My own voice, shrill in my ears, calling for help.

A blur of other students arriving on the scene.

The odd calm in Viren’s voice as she talked me through how to staunch the flow of blood.

The way her words had trailed off when she’d passed out.

“Did you see blood on the dagger?” the Lawful Knight repeated.

I wrapped my arms around my middle. “I don’t know.”

“The person who ran away—you’re sure they were the attacker?”

Are you still worried about me being murdered? I’d teased Sani just last night.

I feel like I prophesied this into being , she’d whispered to me, tearfully, as we clung to each other in the courtyard early this morning.

You are too smart for your own good , Uriel had added, wrapping her arms around us both.

Bile rose in my throat, and I blinked back to the knight. “Why else would they run away?”

“To get help?” he supplied.

“They were not a student.” Of that, I was certain. If anything, the attacker’s brunette hair and short, athletic build had looked strangely like… I shook my head, dismissing the thought.

“We’re done for now,” the knight said. He lifted a hand as if he were about to pat my shoulder but let it fall before he made contact. “The Order of the Lawful will contact you if we need more information. ”

“That’s fine.”

The shock and adrenaline were beginning to wear off, replaced by a cold dread that made me shiver.

As I watched the knight walk away, I leaned against the stone tunnel wall, trying to get ahold of myself.

Trying not to think about how hot Viren’s blood had felt on my hands, how much of it had pooled on the floor.

Trying to ignore the burgundy splotches that soiled the lower half of my chemise.

A pair of knights had carried Viren’s unconscious body off on a wood plank, with healers walking alongside her to administer treatment.

I had yet to hear whether she’d woken up.

Sani had been right: the future was a swift river. And right now, I felt like the current was pushing me somewhere I didn’t want to go, toward a drop I hadn’t seen coming. Had I known how perilous this opportunity would become, I might not have agreed to Phina’s offer.

Then again, had Phina really given me a choice?

I covered my face with my cold hands, sobbing silently. I felt so alone. So far from home. I was being swept toward a waterfall with no one and nothing to cling to.

Sani and Uriel had walked off a while ago, allowing the Lawful Knight to interview me about the incident.

And as much as I cared for them, my new friends didn’t bring me the sense of safety I craved.

I wished I was in Waldron. Safe at the Pretty Possum.

Sitting by the hearth with Anya, Idris, and Wicker, drinking concoctails, playing cards, and enduring Anya’s jokes about my nonexistent love life, my crush on the mysterious metalworker.

Hot tears tracked down my chilled cheeks; I was shaken to my core by what I’d seen.

An intruder.

A blade.

Blood on the woven rug .

It was all too similar to nearly ten years earlier: the swirl of rumors, the attempt on my life.

Everyone had blamed Noble for the rumors, but he’d only done what he thought was right; in fact, had he not been honest with my aunt about what he overheard—had the castle guards not been put on alert—I might not’ve lived past that dreadful night.

It’s why I never blamed him for how things unfolded after that.

Had I stayed at Castle Wynhaim, Raina’s arranged marriage, title, and safety would’ve been threatened.

I couldn’t fault my aunt and uncle’s decision to send me away, even if it stung—in fact, I agreed with them.

Raina might’ve been my cousin by blood, but in my heart, she was my sister , and I would’ve done anything to protect her.

Including live a lie.

An audible sob escaped me, and I bit my lips together.

“Hattie, what the fuck?”

Noble’s imposing form filled the mouth of the archway, haloed by the hazy daylight that cut through the misting rain. His cloak clung to the mountainous ridges of his shoulders, gaping to reveal the undone laces of a black shirt soaked with rain.

Home , my heart sang at the sight of him. Home, home, home .

My logical mind tried to fight that instinct, but after last night, I was too rattled. Noble had always been a place of safety and comfort. Even though he was forbidden. Even when he was pushing me away. Even now, after all this time: Home .

Wild green eyes roved over my chemise, tactile as an actual touch as he took in my rumpled state, the blood stains.

His clean-shaven jaw clenched .

Then he was moving, long legs eating up the distance between us. Disheveled, furious, frantic. For a moment, it looked like he would pull me into an embrace—but he halted a respectable distance away, arms at his sides, hands fisted with restraint.

His voice was strained and demanding when he spoke. “Is it yours? ”

I looked down at the blood on my dress. “No.”

He closed his eyes with visible relief. When he opened them again, they pinned me in place. “Are you hurt?”

I shook my head.

He wiped a hand over his face, the front of his neck, his palm pausing over his heart. “ Fates , Hattie, when Phina said an assassin broke into your building, I—” He broke off. Took a step closer. His movements were jerky and agitated. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”

The question surprised me. What did my feelings matter when Viren had been stabbed ? “I’m afraid for Viren’s life. I saw the wound, it was…” I shuddered, squeezing my eyes closed.

“Look at me.” Noble’s voice was quiet but firm.

When I met his verdant gaze, my breath caught halfway through an inhale.

The usual ice in his expression had fissured, revealing an unreadable rawness underneath.

His brow was furrowed, jaw set. The knot in his throat bobbed, like a fist dragging under a silk sheet.

The sight of it made my own throat ache with a nameless tension.

“What else are you feeling?” he asked impatiently.

“I’m just glad I—”

His irritated grumble cut me off. He tipped his head back in what appeared to be…annoyance? Restlessness? “Stop trying to be brave. Tell me how you truly feel.”

He knew that the trauma of last night wasn’t singular; that it compounded the terror I’d faced a decade before. His acknowledgement of how the attack on Viren would bring up those old memories broke something inside me that I’d been trying desperately to hold together.

“I’m frightened,” I admitted, voice wobbly and small. “It was so scary, Noble. I saw the…the… assassin fleeing. I had to staunch Viren’s blood. I—”

Noble stepped into my personal space.

“What are you doing? ”

“I’m comforting you,” he said, wrapping his strong arms around my quivering body, crushing me against his rain-soaked chest.

“But our rules,” I protested, even as I snaked my arms around his back, holding on tight.

Home , my heart said. Home, home, home .

Yet.

He wasn’t home, was he? Not when I could never be in his arms without fear of being caught, without heartache . Without knowing that his warmth was brief, and as soon as he let go, the cold would return.

Noble’s lips brushed against my temple. “Rules don’t apply in an emergency, remember?” he murmured. “Besides, we’re hidden. The knights are clearing the courtyard, everyone is heading to either class or a pub. It’s just us. You and me, Peach.”

The sound of my nickname had me pulling away, tearing myself free of his embrace. I took a step back—then another for good measure.

I felt afraid, yes—but I also felt ragged by the constant push and pull between us. It was one thing to pretend we didn’t have a history, pretend I didn’t want him—but it was another thing for Noble to pretend he wasn’t breaking my heart day after day.

He couldn’t be both a stranger and a comfort.

“This isn’t fair,” I said.

A line formed between his brows. “I know, you shouldn’t have to fear for your life everywhere you—”

“No.” I gestured between us. “ This , Noble. You and me. We ignore each other, comfort each other. Back and forth, back and forth. It’s—” I hiccupped. “It’s emotional whiplash. It has to stop.”

He flinched. Chuckled joylessly—like he agreed with me.

But then his eyes dipped to my blood-soaked dress. “Hattie, I was worried about you. Terrified . I—I’m trying to be there for you.”

Rage rose in my chest. Compared to the fear coursing through my veins all morning, it felt good —powerful.

“Be there for me?” A harsh, defiant laugh.

“You aren’t allowed to be there for me, remember?

We’re supposed to be strangers. If you really wanted to support me, Noble, you would leave me alone . ”

His throat bobbed—not out of concern this time, but frustration. I expected his icy expression to return. Instead, it cracked wide open. Underneath, he was all fever and fury.

He crowded my personal space again, walking me backward until I was trapped between him and the wall.

He spread his scarred fingers wide, flattening his palms against the stone on either side of my head, caging me in.

I felt so small compared to his hard and imposing presence.

Given everything I’d just said, I hated how much it thrilled me.

“You think this is easy for me, Hattie?” Noble rasped. “Seeing you all the time? Missing what we had? Knowing that because of who we are, you are forbidden to me?”

Forbidden?

“Why would you care?” I challenged. “We aren’t the same people we once were, and even back then, you didn’t—” I broke off, too embarrassed to say it.

But he wasn’t about to let me off the hook. “Finish the sentence.”

“You know what I meant.”

His breaths came in short pants. “Finish. The. Sentence.”

“Even back then, you didn’t want me like I wanted you,” I said, head held high. “So why would that matter now? What about leaving me alone is hard for you, Noble? It’s been a decade since we were actual friends.”

“You’re right, it has been a decade,” Noble said, inching close enough that when he inhaled again, his chest grazed mine. “It’s been an entire fucking decade , and I still miss you. Haven’t stopped thinking about you. ”

I shook my head. “Don’t.” I didn’t want to hear about how he missed my friendship. It made my stupid heart hope , and that was just too painful.

“Don’t what?” Noble pushed. “Don’t tell you that I miss you?”

“I don’t want to hear it,” I said. “We already agreed that it was safer to pretend we don’t know each other.”

“You’re right, we did,” Noble replied. “And you can continue to blame me for your heartache over our situation, Hattie—I’m happy to take the blame for you, if it makes you feel better—but just because we’re better off apart doesn’t mean I relish the idea.”

The air between us had grown humid, pulsing with energy. When at one time his hyper-observant stare would’ve steadied me, the look he was giving me now made me feel exposed. “Noble, I…”

“You’re wrong,” he said. “About how I felt back then. About how I feel now.”

He paused, and—confusingly—his eyes dipped to my mouth.

With his heightened eyesight, his attention was never not intentional; when Noble gave something his focus, there was no detail that went unnoticed.

And right now, he was staring at my bottom lip like— Fates —like it was a cliff’s edge, and he was holding on for dear life.

Squirming under his intense stare, I sunk my right canine into that lip. His jaw ticked again, a quick clench that I felt low in my belly. My thoughts scattered like sparks into a night sky, twisting and flaring and turning to ash.

“I don’t understand,” I said.

“Yes, you do.”

I went still. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that I’m tired of you believing that our arrangement doesn’t bother me,” Noble said.

“I’m tired of you thinking that the rules, the limitations, the constant carefulness have ever been easy for me—because they haven’t.

Not back then. Not now. And I know I should just leave you alone, but…

” He removed one hand from the wall and touched my cheek, dragging his fingers—slow, reverent, featherlight—down my neck.

Heat followed in the wake of that touch, burning with a different sort of adrenaline.

He flattened his palm over my sternum, my heart. “I care,” he said, voice quavering with an intensity I’d never heard before. “I care more than you know, more than what’s allowed, more than I should. And there’s nothing to be done about it, but…I’m tired of you believing I don’t.”