Page 74 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

Self

Hattie

T he smile on Noble’s face broke apart, and I rushed to his side, placing a hand over his heart again.

“Not because I don’t want to,” I assured him in a rush.

“But because I don’t want to marry you for the sake of keeping a secret.

” A crooked smile teased my lips. “ When I marry you,” I said, “it will be out of joy and celebration. Not desperation. Not to remove my identity— again .”

My first marriage had been about stripping me of my personhood; I didn’t want my marriage to Noble to be about the same thing. I’d spent enough of my life living a lie, denying myself of being my true self.

No more .

Noble closed his hand over mine, pressing my palm more firmly against his chest. “That sounds like a Fortunate Fate,” he said to me, then looked to Kalden again. “We will do as you wish— unwed .”

“Absolutely not.”

“Either kill me, or let me live,” I said. “I will accept no in between.”

“And I will accept only the latter,” Noble added.

“Rumors will spread, and the Census Ledgers will lead anyone with ill-intentions directly to you,” Kalden insisted. “Hattie, if you truly wish to evade your lawful claim, it is in your best interest to—”

“Start new rumors, then,” I said. “Or have my uncle update the Arcane Law. I don’t really care, so much as I am left alone.”

“I cannot allow—” A chorus of shouts interrupted Kalden’s refusal .

The three of us went to the tent’s entrance, stepping through the flaps into the searing midday sunshine.

At least a dozen horses were loose and racing through camp, soldiers rushing around to contain them before the animals hurt themselves or ran off.

Meanwhile, a charcoal-colored horse was galloping over the western hill, disappearing from sight.

So much for the four guards keeping Mariana in camp.

Kalden pushed past Noble and I, barking orders. Following Mariana would be a lost cause, but she did pose a threat to all that we’d discussed in Kalden’s tent.

As Kalden shouted at his soldiers, trying to restore order, Noble grasped my hand and squeezed.

His lips brushed my ear as he whispered, “This might be a good opportunity to…” He pulled back, tipping his head in the direction of a gray mare prancing nervously around a nearby hitching post, yanking at her tether.

Before I could think, Noble was tugging me in the mare’s direction, helping me onto the horse’s back.

Once I was settled, Noble untied her lead, fastened the end to her halter to create a makeshift bridle, and—with impressive agility—swung up behind me.

Our horse danced sideways, riled by the high energy of the other animals running loose.

It took only a tap of Noble’s heels on her belly to send her launching forward.

“Stop them!” Kalden yelled.

The camp was a maze of tents, people, fire circles, supplies, and loose horses—all conspiring to slow us down.

Soldiers jumped into our path, waving their arms. My head jerked to the side as we doubled back, weaving through obstacles.

Kalden’s hulking form came into view again; he shook his fist as we passed in the opposite direction, heading deeper into camp, only to turn around again.

I threaded my hands into our mare’s mane, holding on for dear life as Noble maneuvered us this way and that .

Soon, we found our opening: a gap between tents that led west, toward Fenrir. Noble angled us for the narrow path, our mare barreling forward fiercely—

—only to skid to a halt when Kalden positioned himself in the way, his greatsword raised.

“We weren’t done with our conversation,” he called.

“I respectfully disagree,” Noble said.

Kalden lowered his blade and approached, his feet treading slowly over the trampled grass. Our mare skittered sideways, nearly bumping into one of the tents that formed this narrow chute to freedom. I glanced over my shoulder, dismayed to see a handful of soldiers and knights closing in.

We were blocked on all sides.

Kalden moved closer to our mount, lifting his non-sword-wielding hand in a placating manner, palm up. “There is still more to discuss. More options to consider.”

“No,” Noble replied firmly, “there isn’t. We will go to Fenrir and do as you asked, and then we will disappear. In a situation with no perfect outcomes, this one suits all parties.”

“Noble,” Kalden said, “I don’t wish to hold you captive, but—”

“Then let us go,” Noble interrupted. “You might serve the king, but I don’t, and neither does she. We will do as you asked, but in return, we ask for freedom.”

“Son…” Kalden’s palm remained lifted as he stepped sideways, nearing our mare’s shoulder.

“Give my best to Mother,” Noble murmured.

Kalden shook his head—then snatched forward, gripping my ankle with a firm hand. I cried out—not in pain, but in surprise. Behind me, I felt Noble’s entire body stiffen.

With just as much speed as his father, Noble reached down and gripped Kalden’s forearm. “Release her. ”

Kalden shook his head, holding my leg firm. “Come back to the tent. We can strategize.”

Noble’s scarred knuckles paled as he squeezed his father’s arm. “Release. Her.”

Kalden scowled, jaw clenched.

Then, underneath Noble’s grip, something popped .

Kalden’s eyes went wide, watering with pain.

Noble flinched, releasing him abruptly. Our horse—nervous and eager to run—sidestepped, bumping into the canvas wall of a tent.

I reached for her makeshift reins, tugging back, keeping her in place.

Kalden was cradling his arm now, red-faced and sweating.

“You broke it!” Kalden panted, his face paling with shock. “It’s broken!”

Had Noble truly just squeezed Kalden’s arm so hard he crushed bone?

“Don’t follow,” Noble said, then kicked his feet.

Our mount barged her way through the narrow gap, blazing past soldiers with outstretched arms. We cleared the camp, then we were climbing the hill, our mare moving at a swift gallop through the meadow grass.

With Noble’s hands on the reins, his arms caged me in, steadying me as we rode for our escape.

Toward Fenrir.

Toward our future.

Hours later, we came upon the remnants of a small camp. Noble swung off our mare, then helped me down, holding my hips loosely— notably loosely—as I found my footing on exhausted, wobbly legs.

We were in the foothills of the Axe Mountains, where long tapered hills stretched down from the mountain rage like bony fingers. The camp was nestled in the slight valley between two ridges, on the edge of a stand of twiggy saplings.

Safe—at least for now.

“Rest,” Noble said, kissing my cheek.

He didn’t have to tell me twice; I collapsed into the grass, seating myself with my legs outstretched.

Noble handed me our horse’s lead, allowing her to graze without wandering too far.

Then he disappeared into the trees, returning a few minutes later with his pack, which he must’ve been forced to abandon when Brendan found him.

“I think a raccoon got into it,” Noble said, holding up the disheveled canvas, “but I found a stash of leftover jerky in the bottom.” He handed me a piece, then sat beside me with a groan, snacking on his own scraps.

It was late afternoon, sunlight zinging through the grass, making the green stalks glow golden. With the warmth of the sun on my face, I wanted to lie back and nap—but the threat of Kalden’s soldiers finding us kept me alert.

“He won’t follow,” Noble said, reading my mind—or maybe just my darting, vigilant attention. “But we ought to keep moving for another couple hours to find a more sheltered camp—preferably one with water.”

“Should we look for Mariana?” I asked. “She was as much a part of last night as we were, and since she’s been helping Phina…she should know what’s going on.”

Noble stared down at his piece of jerky, turning it over in his hands. “I suspect she already does,” he said. “In any case, if she wants to be found, she will be.”

“But can we trust her with my secret?”

Noble’s nod was instant. “Yes.”

I released a long sigh, content with his confidence in her—for now. “Do you think Mariana supplied the water from the Well of Fate to Brendan?” I wondered .

I’d explained the basics earlier: how Brendan had forced my hand, how the table he’d set up was the same as in my Mirror of Fortune, and how I’d uncovered the cure.

I’d left out the rest—one day, we’d discuss that night in more detail, but for now, the memory of Noble’s broken body was too painful to relive in full.

“I wouldn’t put it past her to assist anyone seeking to uncover a cure,” Noble answered. “Though she’s proven an ally to both Phina and myself, her true motivations are a mystery.”

“But if the Morta are cured,” I said, “her Order will be dissolved—she could go back to the dungeon.”

“If Lord Haron cures the Morta, yes,” Noble said. “But if the Valiant—” He broke off, but not from Oath magic this time. He seemed surprised by what he could say without limitation.

I squeezed his arm, smiling.

“If the Valiant can beat Lord Haron to a cure…” He spread his hands. “There’s more happening within Mariana’s Order than we know. Much, much more.”

“I wonder if Idris could tell us,” I said. “Then again, he and Mariana aren’t exactly friends . And he tends not to divulge much unless it’s essential.”

“It’ll become essential soon enough.”

“True,” I mused, but the thought didn’t trouble me at the moment.

I was too busy thinking about my return to Waldron—seeing Anya, serving Martha and Hugh and Vera at the bar of the Pretty Possum. Simple pleasures, but meaningful ones. Would they treat me differently when I told them who I was?

Probably not , I realized.

I’d seen travelers of all backgrounds and sorts pass through the Possum, and time and time again, Waldron’s locals had based their opinions on more important things than status: a sense of humor, a kindness of spirit, and—when I, myself, had been a newcomer—my willingness to pitch in.

Not to mention the ability to mix great concoctails.

“We can certainly ask Idris when we get home,” I added. “You’re coming back to Waldron with me, right?”

“I want to…” Noble said, but his voice was strained. He dragged his attention from his hands to my face, green eyes searching. “Hattie, what happened earlier…”

His father’s arm, broken .

I nodded encouragingly, waiting for him to say what I already knew.

“I’m…stronger than I was,” Noble said. “ Different than I was.”

Delicately, I asked, “Is the monster still…?”

He shook his head. “No. No, it’s gone. But the strength remains.” He swiveled toward me, placing a careful palm on my knee. “Hattie, I don’t think you cured the curse. I think you altered it. I think you succeeded in the Lord’s original aim.”

I bit my lip and broke eye contact, staring out over the southern hills, where a soft breeze was sending ripples through the stalks.

My strength was still normal, which meant that it wasn’t just my potion that made the difference—something about the arcane magic already in Noble’s veins played a role, too.

I was relieved I couldn’t recreate the effect.

Relieved that what I did know had not been passed on to Marona’s adepts.

When I met Noble’s eyes again, I shrugged innocently. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He quirked a brow. “Don’t you?”

I shook my head, causing my curls to bounce. “Nope.”

“Hmm.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, tugging me closer. “Well, never mind, then.”

A gentle gust of warm, late-spring wind rustled the leaves of the trees. I brushed a lock of Noble’s hair away from his forehead, smoothing my fingers over the place where the horns had pushed through .

“So, Waldron?” I asked him.

“Do you think they’ll have me?” he asked. “I’m afraid I cultivated a reputation of standoffishness. Won’t they be protective of you?”

I pressed a kiss to his stubbled cheek. “Once I come clean to them about who I am, I believe you’ll be the least shocking thing about my return.”

Noble chuckled into my hair. “You’re probably right.” When he pulled back to look at me, the skin around his eyes had creased. “Are you sure you want to tell them?”

I smoothed the creases with my fingertips, smiling. “I’m willing to hide in Waldron to avoid my claim,” I said, “but I’m done hiding myself from the people I love.”