Page 116 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
Perhaps that’s what I kept getting wrong—not the method of alchemy, but the source ofthe ingredients.
After Noble had left the lab this afternoon, I’d run a few preliminary experiments with the monster blood and various types of water-based tinctures. They had not gone well. Not only had the Hylder repelled the Gildium in the blood as usual, the mixture had bubbled like boiling honey, only to harden, candy-like and sticky. The stench had made me want to gag. Mariana had told me that monster blood burned when it touched the skin, but I hadn’t expected it to stink like rotting flesh, either. Something about the water had only made the rancid liquid worse.
Discouraged, I’d returned to the library alcove to reread the notes I’d compiled. Thankfully, the report on Noble’s blood hadn’t indicated a scent or sting, which meant something about the jagged cells in the monster blood were responsible for its vileness. At least Noble’s condition wasn’tthatbad.Not yet.But his blood still had Gildium in it, and that…that I couldn’t seem to solve.
Just the thought of losing him to his affliction made me feel like I was suspended above a vast chasm, the fall inevitable.
Don’t think like that, Hattie.
I refocused on my notebook.
The water I’d used this afternoon had been from a well—and I hadn’t boiled it. Perhaps that was my problem? In the name of honest research, I probably ought to try water from as many sources as possible, but the idea was overwhelming.
I stared harder at my notebook, only for the words to blur. My mind felt like porridge. Perhaps I ought to return to this when I was fresh, maybe ask Uriel more vague questions. I was already late to meet Noble; he’d be worried if I delayed any longer.
Stifling a yawn, I snapped my notebook shut and tucked it into my satchel, along withArcane Basics. After blowing out the candle, I pulled the cord for Willa.
Ten minutes later, she delivered me to the entryway of the Ocs. The heavy wooden doors were locked and secured with an iron bar at this hour, the foyer crowded with extra guards. I exited to a chorus of jangling keys and groaning hinges, offering Willa a wave as I slipped the blindfold into my pocket and stepped out onto the wide street.
Outside in the balmy dusk, I made my way south along the Walk, my footsteps echoing on the cobblestones. Fenrir wasfinallywarming with the season, the temperature quite pleasant considering the hour. I breathed deeply, the air tasting of mineral grit and the meat-scented smoke pouring out of a nearby tavern’s chimney.
The Walk was by no means empty at this time of night, but it wasn’t crowded, either. People mostly congregated in pubs and restaurants, music and jovial chatter spilling outside whenever someone opened a door. Meanwhile, shopkeepers swept their stoops and locked up for the night, offering curt nods as I passed.
Fenrir was not an unfriendly city, but it was still a city. There was an air of selfishness and survival here that the small towns along the Wend did not possess. If I were Waldron right now, the curt nods of shopkeepers would be welcoming waves instead. And I wouldn’t be listening to scraps of music and voices from the street—I’d be right in the thick of it, delivering pints to the delight of the Pretty Possum’s patrons, holding ten conversations at once, flitting between tables to take orders and chit-chat, hearing the same story from every point of view. I’d be blushing at compliments about my concoctails, leaning in close to hear over the bard’s stomping tune. I’d be making my neighbors feel full and happy and welcomed with my cheer.
I would also be fielding questions about my love life. Anya would be teasing me about the way I looked at Noble, and I’d be lying to her about just how deeply I cared for him. Martha and Hugh would be badgering me about when I wanted to “settle down with a nice man,” and Vera would tsk and remind them that “settling” was the wrongword to use when trying to convince a lovely young woman to go on a date with someone’s son, brother, or nephew. Anya would ask what I was looking for, exactly, and I’d wax poetic for their enjoyment and my own: a man who was kind, a man who was humorous, a man who loved reading, a man who took the time to learn what I liked, and who encouraged me to indulge my passions. Anya would beam at my display of romanticism, Martha would tell me a man like that didn’t exist, Hugh would take offense at Martha’s statement, Vera would chuckle at the ensuing argument, and all the while I’d be thinking about Noble—alone in Richold’s guest house on the edge of town—and wondering if I’d ever find a man like him who actually loved me back.
I wanted to hug the version of myself who didn’t know just how much Noble cared. I wanted to introduce her to the version of me now, who felt his affection in every lingering look, attentive touch, and easy laugh. And I wanted to rescue this current version of me—of us—from the prison of our hidden identities. I wanted to take us back to Waldron and introduce the entire town to the Hattie and Noble who werefree.
As much as I loved studying alchemy at the Collegium, there was nothing as sweet as the sense ofbelongingI felt in Waldron. To have that along with an apothecary license and the man I loved by my side—cured,healed—would be a true Fortune.
As I hurried down a narrow side street that connected the Walk to Rose Street—a shortcut to the Royal Inn—I imagined bringing Noble fully into my life in Waldron. Picnics on Stone Hill. Swimming in the Wend. Purchasing peaches from southern merchants and experimenting in the kitchen to get the spicesjust right. The town had welcomed Idris—Anya’s once-Fated killer—with open arms. Perhaps they would soften to Noble once they saw the side of him that wasn’t quite so reclusive.
A smile broke across my face at the thought. There were still plenty of obstacles standing between us and that future, but perhaps my developing theory would get us closer to—
My vision went black as a burlap bag was shoved over my head. Arms closed around my torso, hauling me sideways. I let out a little yelp as my heels skidded across the cobblestones, the strap of my satchel digging into my neck.
“Very funny, Mariana,” I called out, laughing nervously as she wrenched me backward. “Is this really necessary?”
Her arms tightened, forcing the air from my lungs. Instinctually, I twisted my body, struggling to break free. The movement sent both of us into the alley wall, my shoulder slamming into the stone, followed quickly by my temple, a sharpsmackthat made my head spin.
“I thought we were past roughhousing?” I complained with a pained grunt. “And the burlap sack is quite demeaning. Couldn’t you have just snuck into my room again like a dignified—”
“Quiet, you.”
My blood went cold.
That wasnotMariana’s voice.
The voice was female, but rough and raspy, her accent…eastern.
Animalistic panic charged through my bloodstream like a bull. I thrashed in my assailant’s hold, jerking my shoulders and bucking my hips, but the arm banded across my middle held firm. With my arms pinned at my sides, the new dagger in my satchel was out of reach of my desperate fingertips. I shrieked, and a hand closed over my mouth, the burlap and palm muffling the sound.
“I am under no obligation to spare you,” my assailant growled. “You will cooperate.”
Fear stopped me short. My attacker took the opportunity to replace the hand on my mouth with a blade under my chin. She pressed hard, the sharp metal scraping against my throat.
“Give me a reason not to slit your throat, Alchemist.”
