Page 40 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

Weapon Play

Hattie

W hen I arrived at Castle Might for sword practice a couple days later, there were two figures already in the training yard: one huge and golden, the other dark, chiseled, and forbidden.

I was already moving slow after a series of sleepless nights of tossing and turning and fantasizing and dreaming about Noble—so acute that even self-pleasure did me no good—but when I saw Oderin and Noble sparring, I halted in my tracks.

They were dressed similarly in dark trousers and white shirts, their foreheads already glistening with sweat.

The day was muggy from all the recent rain, hot with the hint of impending summer.

Out in the intense midday sun, I was already roasting in my tight pants and sleeveless tunic.

My temperature kicked up further as I watched the two men train.

It was embarrassing to realize how easy Oderin had been going on me during our sessions, because this was…

something else. They both wielded dull practice swords, the metal glinting in the bright sunlight.

The clash of steel rang out in the empty yard, echoing off the surrounding stone buildings.

Their movements were quick, accurate, graceful—a deadly dance of aggression.

Noble was a force, lunging and striking with brutal precision.

He wielded his hefty blade with two hands, swiveling from a solid core, his strength coming from his center the same way Oderin was always lecturing me about.

I had thought Oderin was nimble on his feet, but compared to Noble, he lagged, fumbling his footsteps to keep up.

The way Noble moved —it was a study in bodily control. Masculine power.

Though he hadn’t become a Mighty Knight, Noble must’ve kept up with his training. It explained how utterly solid he’d felt against me in the gardens.

Fucking Fates . We’d managed to work rather amiably over the past few days, sharing jokes and frustrated grumbles as we experimented with binding Gildium and Hylder, the materials smoking, bubbling, repelling like oil and water.

But seeing him like this ? This wouldn’t help our congeniality in the lab—this would only fan the sparks of attraction still sizzling between us.

And why was he here?

I thought back to our conversation that night—his fury over my bruise. Was that it? Overprotective male ego?

My lust morphed into anger, and I stomped up to the edge of the training area. “What are you doing here, Noble?”

Noble’s eyes cut to me, and his flow faltered.

Oderin’s did, too. “How do you know—?” He broke off, clearly making the connection. He raised a knowing eyebrow at me, evidently thrilled by the unexpected development that Noble was the man I’d told him about.

Noble, meanwhile, had lowered his sword.

His eyes swept over my body—the pants that hugged my long legs and modest hips, the cut of my tunic accentuating my waist—with the same hunger I’d seen two nights ago.

My body woke up, nerves firing throughout my core and between my legs—but it was my heart that felt his stare the most.

Because his gaze was unguarded. Honest .

For days I’d been wondering if it’d been a mistake to share what we had, knowing we ought to never touch each other like that again—but right now, I was grateful.

Misery really did love company .

Noble had come to a complete halt to look at me, but with the two men still technically in the middle of sparring, Oderin—clearly hoping to use Noble’s diverted attention to his advantage—hefted his sword and swung.

My eyes tracked the movement, and Noble—with his superior vision—must’ve seen it on my face.

He swiveled, lightning fast, and blocked Oderin’s blow.

Then he was walking into Oderin’s space with a series of relentless strikes, forcing the esteemed Major of the Order of the Mighty of Fenrir backward across the yard until Oderin stumbled, landing on his ass in the dirt.

“Why do I feel like that was personal?” Oderin asked with a laugh.

Noble held out a hand, helping the knight up. “Because it was.”

Oderin’s raised his eyebrow at me again. He mouthed an amused, Well done.

I frowned, feigning mild confusion. Whatever do you mean? the look said.

Noble glanced between us, seeing through our silent exchange.

I remembered to be annoyed. “You haven’t answered my question,” I said. “What. Are. You. Doing. Here?”

Noble spread his arms, white shirt billowing away from his frame, the fabric see-through enough for me to glimpse the outline of his cut torso. “I’m sparring.”

“Why?”

“Same reason as you, I reckon.”

I regarded Oderin, expectant.

“He asked if I wanted to spar,” Oderin said with a shrug. “Who am I to deny an Asheren?”

I groaned. We’d might’ve agreed to eschew our rules, but Noble’s presence here was still a huge overstep.

“I’m not doing this,” I said, turning to walk away.

“Afraid I’ll hurt you?” Noble taunted .

Yes , I thought. Just looking at you hurts.

But my irritation got the better of me.

I halted, boots grinding in the dirt as I swiveled back around. “Everyone knows that the son of Kalden Asheren has been training with a sword since birth,” I pointed out. “Why would you want to spar with your uncoordinated alchemy apprentice lab mate?”

Noble shot me a winning smile, all teeth. “For fun.”

Standing beside Noble, Oderin appeared thoroughly entertained. I could only hope that whatever Oderin deduced about us, he’d be as amenable to keeping quiet about it as he seemed to be with Anya and Idris’s secrets.

I approached the two men again, glaring at Noble. “This is serious. I want to learn so I can keep myself safe.”

Noble’s eyes dropped to my bruised shoulder, then back up to my face. “Safe?”

“Ah, that’s why it’s personal,” Oderin remarked.

I shot Noble a wide-eyed glare. One that said, Do you really want Oderin inferring any more than he already has?

Noble appeared amused.

“I don’t want any distractions,” I said tightly.

“You’re saying I’m a distraction?”

I pressed my lips together. Noble had joked with me when we were young, but I’d never allowed myself to assume he was flirting—at least, not for real . But now… now, I wondered how I’d never seen through his act. The veiled sincerity in everything he said and did.

All that time, Noble had cared about me, too, and led me to believe otherwise.

Suddenly, I didn’t care that he’d done it out of duty, or out of respect for my station, or even to protect me. Nor did I care that Oderin was observing us. Fury raged inside me like river rapids, powerful and unforgiving .

I let the anger wash over me as I lifted my chin, meeting his eyes. “Fine. Let’s spar.”

Oderin chuckled. “Very well.” He left us in the center of the ring, heading for the weapons rack.

“I love the look of you angry,” Noble whispered.

“Don’t push me.”

His chest puffed with a silent laugh.

“Are you truly so blinded by a minor bruise that you’d risk Oderin figuring out our history?”

“You’re the one making a fuss.”

I growled through my teeth, then clenched them tighter, trying to get ahold of my emotions.

Oderin returned carrying two shortswords. The greatswords they’d been sparring with were far too big for me to use, and apparently, my instructor wanted to give me a fighting chance. He handed Noble a dull practice blade before carefully extending the hilt of my weapon in my direction.

Only…this sword was fancier than the one I was used to training with.

Its grip was wrapped in braided leather, worn smooth from use.

The pommel was gold-plated and set with a ruby the size of a grape.

The cross guard was wide and also gold, the metal tooled with an intricate spiral pattern.

It was almost decorative in its finery—if it weren’t for the very real and very sharp blade.

“That’s not fair,” Noble said, pointing at the deadly edge.

“I have to agree,” I said to Oderin. I didn’t trust myself with a real weapon. I didn’t have the spatial awareness or control to guarantee I wouldn’t actually land a hit.

“As you said, Hattie, he’s been training since birth,” Oderin said. “I’m just giving you an edge.”

Noble snorted at the pun.

“But I don’t want to hurt him,” I protested .

With an air of smug confidence, Noble assured me, “You won’t.”

Then he was tugging the hem of his shirt up his torso and off.

My mouth went dry. I was instantly dying of thirst, and he was a crystalline lake. I had to physically resist the urge to lap him up, because…

Fates , he was perfect. Annoyingly so. While most knights were bulky, Noble was lean .

From his broad pectorals to his carved abdominals, every muscle stood out in stark prominence underneath an endless expanse of smooth brown skin.

Wide shoulders tapered into a narrow waist, with an etched V bracketing the trail of black hair beneath his belly button.

His body was a hard landscape, and I wanted to crawl across his terrain.

This was entirely unfair.

My gaze licked up the defined ridges of his body all the way back to his face, about to protest the blatant attempt at distraction—but the words died on my tongue because…he wasn’t smirking anymore. He looked as hungry as I felt. More so, if that was possible.

I feel like I’m starving, Hattie.

When he arched an eyebrow, his expression echoed what he’d said the other night: Whatever you’re thinking about, stop.

I tightened my hand on the grip of my fancy sword, suddenly ready to release some of this pent-up tension with a little violence.

Oderin clapped, startling us both. “Hattie, let’s have you practice some defense,” he said, walking backward out of the training circle to stand on the sidelines. “We’ll have Noble take an offensive strategy, and you’ll focus on blocking him.”

I nodded and lifted my blade.

Noble’s mouth pressed into a serious line, and he crossed the tip of his sword with mine. Together, we said the words, “Fate, Fortune, Death.”