Page 49 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

“Did she harm you?”

I rested my fists on my hips. “Do I look hurt?”

Taking the question seriously, he appraised me, his attention homing in on the dark splotches of blood on the front of my dress. “Your knees.” He looked like he was moments away from making this all about my minor scrapes, so I held up a hand, trying to keep us on track. Trying to think.

In the alley, Faren had wanted to kill Noble for his affliction—but Mariana had stopped him. “Why did Mariana defend you that night? Isn’t it her duty to kill cursed beings?”

“Only the ones who are—” He broke off, but I got his meaning.

“Does she already know about your blank Fate?”

A nod.

I thought back to the night Mariana had come to the Possum. Don’t trust anyone who doesn’t show a future . “Then why did Mariana warn Anya, Idris, and I about others with blank Fates?”

“She—?” Noble shook his head; he must not have known she visited. “I have no idea. She came to me in Waldron, too, asking about my research progress, but that was it.”

“Could she have been warning us about you?” That had been my original hunch. “A scare-tactic to keep us from asking you questions?”

“If so, she really underestimated your curiosity.” A pause. “She also could’ve been looking for information but didn’t want to give it away.”

That did seem more likely than her warning us simply out of the goodness of her heart.

“Do you know why she’s helping Phina?”

“Do you think anyone knows why Mariana does what she does?”

He had a point.

“What does a blank Fate have to do with being cursed?” I asked.

“Altered blood means altered—” he broke off, choking on the warning of his Oath.

Altered blood . That explained why Anya and Idris had blank Fates but weren’t cursed like Noble was; their dip in the Well of Fate must’ve altered their blood in another way.

Noble’s scarred knuckles paled as he gripped his mug tighter. “Is this why you sought Mariana out? To ask her about me?”

I went to him, easing the mug out of his hand before he shattered it with sheer force. I set it on the desk next to mine, then faced him again. “She wasn’t very helpful.”

“Why didn’t you come to me first?”

“I tried. You clearly weren’t interested in talking, and I didn’t want to force you,” I said. “Besides, I had another request for her.”

“Which was?”

“Monster blood.”

“ Fuck , Hattie. Why didn’t you ask me ?”

It had crossed my mind, but: “You aren’t a test subject, Noble.”

He stiffened. “Actually…”

Test subject. Fucking Fates. “They called you a knight, but they ran experiments on you? That’s how they cursed you.” My icy fury returned; with the hearth blazing nearby, heating the entire left half of my body, I felt like I was moments away from steaming.

What I knew of Order magic was basic: an Oath was like a magical rope that tethered the Oath-taker to the Ledger that tracked them; the Order of the Arcane braided the rope.

“Obviously the Adepts of the Order of the Arcane created your Order,” I said, “so why did they task Phina —an alchemist—with finding a cure?”

“Containment, not cure,” Noble amended.

Gildium might’ve turned blood black, but it also possessed strong containment properties. “You don’t think a cure is possible?”

Noble didn’t answer, and this time I couldn’t tell if it was due to his Oath or a lack of hope.

“There are no Arcane apprentices or adepts in our study,” I continued, fists clenching, “yet they’re the ones who did this to you?”

Noble turned his face toward the fire, watching the flames.

“Unless…” I continued, inching toward him as I thought aloud. “Unless the Adepts of the Arcane couldn’t figure out how to undo what they’d done.”

Noble’s fists tightened at his sides. “Your revelations are not going to distract me from the fact that you tracked down a vicious knight on your own to ask her for cursed blood,” he said. “It’s my turn to be angry.”

I scoffed. “She’s not that vicious,” I said, “seeing as she let me live.”

Noble blanched. “ Hattie —”

“Have you and Phina studied your blood? Viren didn’t give any indication.”

“We have—extensively. Inconclusive.”

I nodded. “Your blood might be black, but you are not a monster,” I said. “Pure monster blood is the better place to continue our research.”

“‘Our research.’” He shook his head ruefully. “I shouldn’t have let you get wrapped up in this mess.” His chin dropped to his chest, wavy hair falling across his face.

At the sight of his regret, my concerns about our research, the conspiracies of the Orders, and even his monstrousness disappeared. Suddenly the only thing that mattered was that Noble was torn-up. Hurting not over his condition—but over its impact on me .

His selflessness astounded me.

I approached him slowly, halting with a foot of space between us.

This close, I had to tilt my chin up to meet his gaze.

Flickering firelight blazed across the right side of his face, igniting the green in his irises; the left side was shaded, his straight nose and angular cheekbones splashed with shadow. Half light, half darkness.

Even now, his soft lips were pressed tight with tension. How many times had I yearned to melt the sharpness of his expression with my touch? How many times had I stopped myself?

No more , I thought. With everything out in the open, there were no remaining secrets that could dissuade me. I knew all of who he was—the blessing of his being and the curse trapped within him—and I was done holding back.

I brushed my fingers across his forehead, raking the hair out of his face. He leaned into my touch, eyes falling closed as I slid my hand down the smooth skin of his neck, across the ridge of his collarbone. When I rested my palm over his heart, his returning gaze was heavy.

“What are you doing, Peach?” His voice was leather and steel—soft, but with a cautionary edge. The sound of my nickname in that deep tone made everything in me clench.

I rolled my eyes playfully, smoothing my hand indulgently across his pecs. They were so firm . “What does it look like I’m doing?” I asked innocently. “I’m comforting you.” This close, I could smell his scent: soap and cedar and him .

He gripped my wrist, halting my hand’s slow journey across his bare chest. “This doesn’t feel like just comforting.”

I stared into his eyes. “It’s not.”

He removed my hand from his skin, but it wasn’t a rejection—it was disbelief. “Aren’t you afraid of me?” he asked. “Repulsed? You don’t even know why I’m like this. What it means. ”

“You don’t fully understand it, either.” I glanced at the faded Oath tattoo that banded the base of his throat. “And even if you did, you couldn’t tell me.”

He turned his face toward the hearth, giving me a clear view of his strained neck and clenched jaw.

“Noble,” I said, prompting him to meet my eyes again. “I am not afraid. I am not repulsed. I don’t have to know what it means because I know you . And you would never hurt me.”

“I’ve hurt you plenty.”

I rested my palm on his pec again. “Circumstances hurt me, not you.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth, and his throat bobbed. “Hattie,” he warned.

“I. Am. Not. Afraid,” I stated. “Do you believe me?”

“I want to believe you.”

“But you don’t yet. Is this why you’re still holding back?”

He laughed a little. “You’re a force, you know that?”

I beamed. “I try.” I slid my fingers back up into his hair, curling them at his nape, nails scratching. I felt his skin pebble with goosebumps beneath my fingertips.

One firm hand gripped my waist. “You know what I am and you still…want?”

“I still want,” I confirmed. “I want and want and want .”

A rough exhale gusted out of him. “There’s still the matter of your identity.”

My hand stilled in his hair. “My identity has stolen so many things from me,” I said.

“My home. My relationship with Raina. My autonomy. My dreams of becoming an alchemist. You .” I pressed my lips together.

“When I came to the Collegium, I told myself I would no longer let who I am steal all the light from my life. I am not letting it get between us—not anymore. ”

For a moment, he stared down at me; I expected him to pull away, to argue, to point out all the ways that a relationship between us could lead to our history being uncovered, and declare it too risky.

Feeling as if I were standing atop Fate’s Landing all over again, I braced for another rejection, but then—

“Come here,” he rasped. The hand on my waist gripped harder, tugging me closer.

But when our lips were mere inches from touching, I drew back—just a little.

“What?” he asked, sounding amused now.

“I’m just surprised,” I teased. “Seemed like you’d take more convincing.”

The smirk returned, but it was genuine this time. “You’ve been wearing down my willpower for years. And besides, you’ve made it abundantly clear that you aren’t going to let anything stand between us.”

“You’re right,” I replied, lifting my chin. “I’m not.”

“Good,” he whispered, ghosting his lips across mine, “because I’m done trying to talk you out of this.”