Page 75 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

No Questions Asked

Hattie

T wo days later, Noble and I stood in Phina’s chambers at the Collegium, dusty and smelling of horse from the hard ride back to Fenrir City.

It was dark—just after midnight—and yet Phina hadn’t seemed surprised by our arrival.

She’d simply ushered us inside, locked her door with a click , and offered us wine (Noble had declined, but I’d gratefully accepted a heavy pour).

Now, she sat in one of the upholstered reading chairs by the window. “Care to sit?” she asked, crossing one leg over the other. She wore a flowing dressing gown, but in spite of the late hour, she seemed wide awake.

I was too antsy to sit, as was Noble, but I did take a fortifying sip of my wine. “Phina, the program—”

“I’ve already notified Lord Haron of its termination,” she interrupted.

I spluttered, and Noble rubbed my back.

“Mariana paid me a similar visit a few hours ago,” Phina explained, gesturing at us with her cup. “I had my suspicions that Lord Haron had ulterior motives for my research, and she confirmed.”

“What else did she say?” I asked.

“Nothing,” Phina said, “and I don’t wish to know.”

Noble shook his head. “But your research—”

“Ought not be dictated by a corrupt ruler,” Phina finished for him.

“My joy is in the research itself, which I can conduct independently from my cottage.” She glanced meaningfully at my bare wrist, Noble’s neck—our missing Oath tattoos.

Having seen the effects of the Well of Fate on Anya and Idris, she must’ve known that it played a role.

She had to be curious about how I’d solved the curse. I certainly would be.

I stepped toward her. “I can tell you how.”

She smiled softly. “Unlike you, my curiosity does not outweigh my sense.”

A laugh burst out of me.

Phina flashed us a mischievous grin. “I do have my theories, though. And my research is never over—even if the setting changes.”

“What of your Adept Oath?” Noble asked. “And Oderin? Are you not obligated to divulge—”

“What, exactly? I have solved nothing. It is not against my Oath to give up,” Phina said. “As for Oderin, he prefers to stay out of my affairs—and I, his.”

“Can he be trusted not to speak of our affairs, either?” I asked her.

Phina shrugged. “What would he say? Noble is no longer afflicted, and your identity is irrelevant.”

My breath caught. “You know who I am?”

“Unlike the attendance records of the Collegium, the Oath of Allegiance magic tied to my Research Ledger is too strong to record false names, Hattie Mund ,” Phina said with a smirk.

“My brother made the connection after he saw you two interact. Thankfully for you, neither of us care much for titles—or endangering our friends. And with the study retired, the Ledger is unlikely to be reviewed from outside eyes.”

I let out a harsh exhale, both shocked and amused that my professor had known my identity this whole time—and that she considered me a friend .

“You should be very proud of yourselves for what you accomplished.” Phina’s kind eyes then landed on Noble. “I’m relieved you’re all right.”

Noble bowed his head. “Thank you, Phina. For your help, your friendship—everything.”

She smiled warmly, then tossed back her wine and stood, wandering over to a writing desk in the corner. “Speaking of accomplishments”—she retrieved a scroll and handed it to me—“congratulations are in order.”

I unraveled the paper. Apothecary License was scrawled across the top in swooping letters. It’d been signed by Phina and the lead adept of the Collegium, and an official wax seal adorned the corner.

“Phina, I…” I trailed off, shaking my head. “I can’t see how I’ve earned this. I didn’t complete my classes.”

She placed a hand on my arm and jutted her chin in Noble’s direction. “He’s proof enough of your skill, Hattie. You earned it.”

Noble’s palm nestled between my shoulder blades, rubbing gently. “She’s right, Peach.”

Tears sprung to the corners of my eyes. This was the culmination of years of obsessive reading, learning, practicing, and dreaming. Saving Noble might’ve been my Fated Fortune, but this validation of my passion and dedication to alchemy was a close second.

“You’re a talented alchemist, Hattie Wynhaim,” Phina said.

Hearing the sentiment from my idol, with my real name…

I couldn’t help myself. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around Phina’s shoulders, squeezing hard.

She let out a soft ooph , belatedly reciprocating my embrace.

Then she was laughing, and so was I, and Noble was wrapping his arms around us both, savoring our odd triumph.

The hug didn’t last long, though.

When Phina pulled back, her expression had turned grave. “There is one thing I need from you—both of you.”

“Anything,” Noble and I replied in unison.

“When Mariana comes looking for you,” Phina said, “I need you to trust her.”