Page 76 of Fate’s Sweetest Curse (Mirrors of Fate #2)

Riverbank

Noble

N oble lay with his hands behind his head, staring up into a canopy of weeping willow branches.

Their long, slender leaves twirled like ribbons, pale green catching the light of the sun overhead.

Beyond the treetop, wispy clouds drifted across a sky that was one shade lighter than the intense blue of Hattie’s irises.

The air was hot, muggy. As water from his swim dried on his bare chest, a sheen of sweat replaced it. He turned his head to the side, where a picnic basket had already been ravaged: empty jars and sticky spoons, lemon cookie crumbs, a bottle with only a sip of citrusy concoctail remaining.

Noble sighed, feeling his body relax into the bed of cool moss beneath him. He closed his eyes, dozing.

A splash woke him.

He angled himself up on one elbow, shading his eyes with a hand.

Hattie was emerging from the river, lithe and glistening. Her naked skin was a wet, breathtaking expanse of gentle curves, freckly skin, and the beautiful mauve blush that persistently painted her cheekbones and sternum. As she approached, Noble wondered, briefly, if he was still dreaming.

While the rest of Waldron were setting up their summer solstice festival, Noble and Hattie had snuck off to a secluded bend in the River Wend. Even with the guarantee of privacy, watching the water sluice down her waist, hips, and thighs felt illicit .

Forbidden .

Call it habit, but he still sometimes forgot that she wasn’t forbidden. Not anymore. On the contrary, she was all his—and he, hers.

She padded closer, picking her way across the soft moss with her bare feet. A smile parted her lips, hungry and suggestive, and when she reached him, she climbed up his body on her hands and knees to straddle his hips.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” he said.

She smelled like peaches and the fresh earthiness of the river—one half of the magical water mixture that had saved him. Hattie said that someday, she intended to learn more about the Wend’s magical properties—but she wasn’t in a hurry.

“Were you asleep?” Hattie asked.

“Dozing,” he said. “Did you enjoy your swim?”

Her skin was cool from the river, slick with moisture. He held her hips, rocking her forward against his growing erection.

“Yes,” she said, her voice breathy and low. “Did you enjoy watching?”

He had—up until the blood rushed to his groin, and he’d forced himself to stop staring. He would be thirty next year, yet Hattie still made him feel like a Fates-damned adolescent. “You’re beautiful,” Noble said. “Inside and out.”

Hattie leaned in for a kiss, her nipples—tight from the cold—brushing his chest. “Oh yeah?”

He nodded slowly. Her freckles had darkened from the summer sunshine and stood out starkly against her pale cheeks. “When you’re with me, the world appears brighter and more colorful,” he murmured against her lips, repeating what he’d said to her in Phina’s lab, just before they’d kissed.

She nibbled on his bottom lip. “Go on.”

He brushed an unruly curl off her forehead. “You are a sunrise,” he said. “You are the summer itself.”

“Is that so?”

“Every day, I thank the Fates that they gifted me with eyes capable of appreciating your beauty so closely. Every shade, every freckle, every expression. Nothing else compares.” He paused. “Even if I were blind, your radiant character would still take my breath away.”

Hattie’s lower lip wobbled, and he pinned it with a kiss. “I love you, too,” she whispered against his mouth.

He was still getting accustomed to his painfully perfect existence in Waldron with Hattie. Two months had passed since their return, and the events between their confrontation with his father and now had rushed by more swiftly than Wynhaim Falls, a cascade of conversations and emotions.

After escaping his father’s camp, they hadn’t stayed more than twelve hours in Fenrir City.

Following their meeting with Phina (which had ended with Hattie insisting Phina give Oderin her best and emphasizing that they were welcome in Waldron anytime), Hattie had snuck into Inver College to collect her things.

Sani and Uriel had eyed Noble with a blend of teasing and suspicion, but when it was time for Hattie to leave, they hadn’t asked any questions; Hattie’s vague insinuation about knowing too much had been enough for both her friends to understand her swift departure.

After that, Hattie had written notes to Willa and Viren for Sani and Uriel to deliver, Noble had claimed the rest of his abandoned things from the Royal Inn of Fenrir, and then they’d ridden south.

To Noble’s relief, Kalden had ultimately allowed their escape.

With Phina’s research program shut down, the general must’ve been satisfied enough by the neutralized threat to leave Noble and Hattie alone.

He had no doubt that Kalden would be monitoring the spread of rumors from afar, but in truth, it was a comfort to know that as long as his father didn’t come for them, no one else was likely to, either.

It still pained Noble to not have a closer relationship with his father, but he no longer wished to please Kalden, and that gave him a sense of freedom he’d always thought was out of reach.

As far as Noble was concerned, hiding in a paradise like Waldron was the perfect solution to the concerns they’d discussed in Kalden’s pavilion.

Noble did look forward to proposing marriage to Hattie again soon—but the next time he did, it would not be in an effort to hide her, but to devote himself to her out of love and only love. He’d heard that Waldron weddings were boisterous affairs.

Hattie had been right about Noble’s reception in Waldron, too.

After she’d called a town meeting to reveal her true identity, no one had questioned Noble’s presence.

It had been touching, really, to see how Hattie’s community welcomed her truth.

In spite of her protests, they’d held a festival in her honor—then vowed never to speak of the matter again.

He wasn’t sure a town full of gossips could be trusted on such matters, but Anya had assured him that when it came to important secrets, Waldron looked after their own.

And welcomed newcomers, too. Ever since folks had caught on about Noble not actually being a recluse, he’d been inundated with social requests.

Most meaningful, however, was Richold, who’d invited Noble back into his workshop to continue passing along his knowledge of Gildium (when he wasn’t spending an increasing amount of time with Kara).

Noble, having cultivated a genuine passion for metal alchemy, had been honored to resume his studies—this time, for fun.

The one thing Noble and Hattie had kept to themselves, however, was his curse—specifically, his altered strength, something he and Hattie didn’t yet fully understand.

Some secrets were worth keeping. And aside from the occasional questioning look from Richold when Noble demonstrated too much strength at the forge or Idris when helping with chores around the Possum, that secret was easy enough to keep.

So, there they were: basking on a riverbank in a small town in southern Fenrir, far from the perils of their past—living, finally, inside the promise of their future.

“You’re pensive,” Hattie said, pressing her body fully against his.

The contact made him groan. “I was thinking about you.”

“I’m right here,” she said, poking his nose.

He laughed. “Still hard to wrap my head around that,” he admitted.

Her playful demeanor shifted, becoming more serious. “I understand,” she said. “Sometimes this feels…”

“Too good to be true?”

Hattie nodded.

“Go on,” he urged.

Hattie slid off his body, coming to rest on her side beside to him, her head on his collarbone, her palm flat on his chest, one sensuous leg hooked over his, keeping their bodies close.

“I guess I’m afraid, still,” Hattie said.

“Of being discovered. Of what it could mean for Raina. I don’t regret living more truthfully here, but sometimes I think about your father’s warnings and… ”

Noble kissed her temple. “I know what you mean.” His father had a way of saying things that rang in the mind like a bell, a constant, echoing clang that never truly faded. “But we can’t control the future—we can’t control Fate,” Noble said. “All we can do is enjoy the peace while it’s here.”

Hattie tipped her head up, meeting his eyes.

From this angle, with her body draped over him, and her brilliant attention aimed directly at him…

how could he not feel like the luckiest man alive?

His Fate could still be blank—they’d know for certain this fall, when the Mirrors passed through town—but as long as Hattie was by his side, Noble was certain his future would be blessed .

“Ugh, look at me, talking about myself when you were the pensive one,” Hattie said, propping herself on an elbow to regard him more squarely. “What’s troubling you?”

They might’ve solved his curse, but Noble never did learn what the Arcane Adepts had originally injected into his veins.

He still didn’t know the full extent of his strength or how else he might be altered.

He’d spoken to Anya and Idris a bit about the strangeness of possessing a blank Fate, and though it was comforting not to feel so alone in the experience… he sometimes still felt other .

Then again, he also felt incredibly fortunate.

“No trouble,” Noble said, tugging Hattie closer. “Just…loose ends occupying my thoughts, I suppose.”

“Ah,” Hattie said. “You mean the remnants of your curse, the Morta in the Western Wood, and Lord Haron’s plot against Marona?”

He laughed. “You’re astute.”

“I worry about the same things you do,” she said.

“There’s nothing you can do.”

“I could say the same to you.”

Somewhere downriver, ducks quacked, their voices echoing off the surface of the calm water. It brought him back into the moment, into this perfect day, far from corrupt magic and the machinations of rulers.

“Well, there’s something I can do.” Noble guided Hattie onto her back and rolled on top of her. All that bare skin was a fever dream straight out of his adolescence.

She giggled, her body shuddering beneath him.

Her golden hair was fanned around her face, a stunning contrast to the vibrant green moss cushioning her head.

She dragged her nails across his back in the way she knew he liked, tracing the ridges with a delicious scrape.

In answer, he rolled his hips, feeling his whole body wake up .

“We should probably help with the festival preparations,” Hattie said, even as she arched against him, pressing close. “I have my tent to set up, and—”

Noble bent, sliding his tongue along the side of her neck. He cupped a breast, squeezing, then slid his hand between their bodies to feel her wetness. A little sigh slipped out of her, and he pulled back to see the flush climbing up her neck, painting her cheekbones.

Fates , he loved that color.

“What were you saying, Peach?” he teased.

Hattie bit her bottom lip, smiling. “You know? I don’t remember.”