Page 60 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

“Marona doesn’t need another problem,” the older footman went on. “To keep the peace, Archer and Raina are the smart choice—for all parties. For the realm.”

Silence spread between them—not even the sound of them unloading.

Finally, the younger footman whistled a long sigh. “Good thing it’s just conjecture.”

“Fates help us if Mr. Pim is right.”

Noble peeked out from behind the bags of grain, catching a glimpse of the green uniforms of Lothgaim.

For a moment, he simply watched the footmen from his hidden vantage, not truly hearing anything more of what they said.

He felt as if he’d been pushed off Fate’s Landing, his thoughts tumbling in an endless pummel of water; a loud whooshing filled his ears.

Then he was walking out of the storage room and back down the long corridor of the stables, moving swiftly away from the troubling gossip.

There was a chance they were wrong—but knowing how quickly Hattie’s family always changed the subject whenever she asked about the identity of her absent father, he didn’t think they were.

Hattie deserved to know what he’d overheard.

Noble didn’t consider the repercussions, didn’t entirely realize what he was doing until he was inside the keep, breezing past the guards stationed outside the residence, hurrying through the massive foyer toward the curved staircase that led to Hattie’s room.

It was the sight of Queen Yvira herself that startled him out of his trance.

She was wearing a burgundy gown, the bodice embroidered with carnelian beads.

The colors brought out the richness in her brown freckles and emphasized the flush in her pale cheeks.

He saw Hattie’s resemblance reflected in her aunt every time he looked upon the queen.

Except where Hattie’s hair was golden, Yvira’s had more of a strawberry quality; the color made her look delicate, almost naive, but Noble knew the queen was just as fierce as her forebears who’d founded Marona and conquered the continent.

King Braven might’ve married into the family to become the headpiece of the kingdom, but Queen Yvira Wynhaim was the true ruler. As cunning as she was beloved by her people.

“Noble, what happened to your hand?” Queen Yvira asked, her velvety tone tinged with concern.

She had never been anything but kind to Noble, but in her presence, he was painfully aware of his rank relative to hers. Therefore, he was powerless to the pressure of her mere presence, his panic rising out of his throat before he had a chance to think .

“Is Hattie’s father the Lord of Lothgaim?” he blurted, voice echoing through the foyer. “Is she his true heir?”

Someone at Noble’s back let out a choked cough; he glanced over his shoulder to see a pair of maids scurrying away. When he turned back to the queen, awaiting her answer, her eyes were wide with shock, cheeks flushed with sunset pink.

She reached out, snatching his good arm. “Where did you hear such a thing?”

From there, the afternoon unfurled like a river’s current, sweeping him away.

Queen Yvira ushered Noble up the stairs opposite those that led to Hattie’s room, urging him into King Braven’s private study.

There, the explanation burst out of him, beginning an uncontrollable cascade of events steered by the king and queen’s swift and merciless mitigation of what was, in fact, the truth.

A truth that—until that day—only they had known.

In the following months, the royals did all they could to avoid the terrible unrest that Hattie’s claim could cause, squashing all hints in an effort to keep the marriage agreement between Archer and Raina intact.

They refrained from informing the Lord of Lothgaim of the result of his long-ago dalliance with Odella.

The Lothgaimian footmen were found—and then they disappeared.

Maids and guards were questioned—a few, he heard, were paid off.

Hattie was kept in the dark; Noble was forbidden from visiting her.

Then a Maronan soldier—one of the few entrusted with the containment of the secret—broke into the keep and tried to murder Hattie in an act of misguided loyalty toward Raina.

After that, the king and queen rushed an engagement between Hattie and the nephew of one of the king’s advisors, a mayor in an insignificant town in southern Fenrir.

Her dowry was enough that her new husband did not question her lineage, nor the reason the marriage was so rushed.

And by taking the surname of a lesser-titled man in a different territory—officially recorded by Fenrir’s Census Ledger instead of Marona’s—Hattie Wynhaim’s true identity was erased.

On the eve of Hattie’s departure, Noble snuck onto her balcony one last time.

To tell her the truth. To confess that it was his fault.

To admit that he loved her, too. But before he could express that last part, Loreena was knocking on her door, and he was climbing back down her trellis with the image of her tear-stricken face seared into his mind like a brand.

Then he was hiding behind the willow, watching the nondescript carriage steal Hattie into the night.

Steal his heart from his chest. Never to return.

That night, Noble had thought he lost Hattie forever. Now that she was in his life again, he refused to give up on that long-ago glimpse of precious Fortune.

“Is the Hylder still working?”

Noble glanced sidelong as his travel companion. Mariana had her horse’s reins looped around the horn of her saddle and was using both hands to carve into an apple with her dagger. She slid a thin slice into her mouth and crunched down, waiting for his answer.

Generally speaking, Noble didn’t dislike Mariana.

Over the past two years, they’d formed a cool but amiable rapport.

She’d advocated for him more than once, and her clandestine contributions to Phina’s research had been invaluable.

But he was not privy to her motivations, and therefore, he didn’t fully trust her.

Knowing she’d harmed Hattie— for no fucking reason —had greatly soured his opinion.

“Yes, the Hylder is still working,” Noble grumbled, returning his gaze to the open land ahead of them. No matter how hard he strained his nocturnal eyes, he’d yet to spot evidence of a camp. “Why do you ask?”

“You look murderous.”

“I am. ”

Mariana let out a little snort of amusement. “Are you about to tell me that I should be scared? Watch my back around you?”

“Are you capable of fear?” Noble joked, fully expecting her to deny any and all weakness in that quippy, dismissive way of hers.

But she surprised him. “Of course, I am.”

“I would’ve thought you abandoned fear a long time ago,” he said, “what with your charge.”

She leaned forward, offering the rest of her apple to her horse.

The charcoal-colored gelding kept walking, but turned his neck, taking the treat gently.

Mariana patted his neck, then sat tall again.

“I don’t fear what most people fear,” she said.

“Pain, Fate, death. Those are inevitable and therefore not worth my concern.”

He decided to play along. “Then what do you fear?”

“Swans.”

Noble snorted. “You fight abominations, and yet you’re afraid of pretty white birds?”

“I got bit by one as a child.”

Noble shook his head, bemused by her sense of humor. He’d thought he had Mariana pinned, but perhaps there was more to her than her prickly countenance. “Swans,” he accepted. “Is that it?”

Mariana rubbed her forehead with the back of her wrist, staring out over the moonlit plains. “Swans, and captivity.”

Noble considered that. He didn’t know much about her past, but he knew some things. That she was a thief. That she was tried for her crimes and forced into an Oath at a cruelly young age. That she fought monsters as punishment. And that her sentence was for life.

“Why are you helping me?”

“What? Do I not seem like the helpful type?”

Noble scoffed.

The moonlight made her tawny skin appear pallid, the night carving deep shadows under her angular cheekbones.

Her doe-eyes reflected a depthless sorrow, a vacancy that Noble knew all too well.

As he waited for her to answer his question for real, the pale scar that bisected her upper lip stretched with her smirk… then softened.

Mariana broke eye contact and patted her horse’s neck again. “I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about,” she said finally. “The powerlessness and regret. I figured if I could help prevent…”

Noble offered a quiet nod. Her sentiments were strangely tender. Who would’ve thought she was capable?

“Mariana,” Noble teased, “are you a romantic?”

She pinned him with a dark look, but this time, he knew it was an act. “Also, if you turn, someone needs to be around to run you through.”

“Comforting,” Noble remarked—even though she was right. “Thank you,” he added.

Her shrug was forcedly casual. “Beats spending time with my fellow knights.”

Noble thought about all the things he feared: failure, the wickedness inside him, the possibility of never seeing Hattie again.

In the darkest moments of his knighthood, Noble had wondered if the world would be better off without him—if he should take his Fate into his own hands.

But he wanted more than an ending. He wanted a beginning, and everything in between.

“Your fear,” he said. “How do you face it day in and day out?”

“I do what I can do avoid lakes and rivers.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” He thought she might leave their conversation there, but then her rich brown eyes found his and held.

“I face it just as you said: day in and day out. Bit by bit.” She swung her gaze ahead of them again, then up to the infinite stars above.

“There’s no other option, as far as I can tell. Besides death.”

“You don’t fear death, though,” Noble pointed out.

“No,” Mariana said, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to live . ”

Noble hummed in acknowledgement, finding that he agreed with her. Wholeheartedly.

“What?” Mariana prompted.

“Nothing,” Noble said. “I just hate how much we have in common.”