Page 120 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
“I’ll explain on the way. You ready?” Mariana pinched out the lit candles, then dumped the kettle on the fire in the hearth, extinguishing it with a cloud of hissing steam.
“On the way?” Noble slid his dagger into the holster at his belt. “You’re coming?”
Mariana retrieved the other two vials from the drawer and handed them to him. “Don’t need you losing your shit before we get there.”
42
Treacherous Night
Hattie
Ilanded on damp grass and hard gnarled roots.
My head throbbed. My shoulder and hip were sorely bruised. My muscles ached with the long-held tension of being strapped to the back of a horse like a saddle bag and jostled for a night and a day of hard riding with few breaks. It was a relief to rest on solid ground, even if I did feel like the land was still juddering underneath me at a gallop.
With my hands bound behind my back and my ankles tied, all I could do was roll awkwardly onto my side, then shimmy into an upright position to lean against the trunk of a tree. The night was inky black, the forest at my back a depthless mass of shadow. We were on the upper edge of a shallow valley, a plain unfurling before me like a moonlit sheet, meadow grass rippling in the soft breeze.
I had awoken from the blow to my head already strapped to the horse, so it’d been difficult to get my bearings at first. As my captors rode through thin stands of trees and open meadows, I’d craned my neck for landmarks and watched the trajectory of the moon and sun. Had I been taken west, I would’ve spotted the Western Wood on the horizon by now; had my captors headed south, we would’ve encountered the Wend. Butno. The Axe Mountains carved a rough line above the treetops to the left—which meant we were traveling east.
Toward Marona.
My captors bustled around, making camp with gruff efficiency. They wore black clothing and cruel scowls, all armed to the teeth. If it weren’t for their fine saddles and healthy-looking horses, they could’ve been bandits, but Marona was known for its horsemanship—wild herds still roamed the territory’s wide plains—and the quality of their mounts was another clue that they were of higher Maronan station.
As was the fact that I was still alive.
My parentage—specifically, the identity of my father—might’ve been a secret to the citizens of the kingdom, butIwas not. For once, being Hattie Wynhaim—at least, theWynhaimhalf—hadn’t endangered me, but saved me.
For once, I felt lucky to be who I was.
I didn’t trust my captors not to change their minds about killing me, though. Earlier, when I’d finally glimpsed my assailant from the alley—Corla—I’d immediately recognized her as the brunette who’d stabbed Viren. These were clearly the miscreants tasked to murder Collegium alchemists. While I had royal blood in my veins, I was also complicit in the research that my kidnappers were clearly sent to uncover and end.
But who’d sent them?
They wore no uniform, and I hadn’t gotten a good enough look at any of their throats to notice if they bore Oath tattoos. I couldn’t imagine King Braven—my kind-hearted uncle—sending spies out to murder academics in another territory. Then again, given what I’d learned about Lord Haron’s schemes, perhaps drastic measures were justified (too bad they were targeting the researchers tasked tofixthe problem, instead of the Arcane magicians who caused it). An association with the crownwouldexplain why my captors hadn’t killed me yet—but if theyweren’tassociated with the crown, harboring the king’s niece was excellent leverage for all manner of nefariousaims.
Essentially, I had only half an idea of what was going on—and I hadnodesire to stick around long enough to uncover the rest. I was still close enough to Fenrir City to return on foot if I could escape.
Slumping against the rough bark of my tree, I rolled my neck, wincing at the way the muscles twinged. My hair was a loose tangle, frizzy tendrils tickling my cheeks and nose; the pins that’d held my bun had fallen out long ago. The cuts under my jaw stretched uncomfortably when I yawned, scabs reopening for the thousandth time. My whole sternum was crusted in dried blood; the neckline of my blue dress was stained crimson. Miraculously, I still wore my vial necklace, though I wasn’t sure what good the sentimental keepsake would do, aside from reminding me of how far away I was from everyone I loved.
I smelled like horse. I wanted a hot bath. I wanted abed. I wanted Noble. I wanted…
Fates, I wanted to wallow in self-pity while someone else worried about getting me out of this quagmire. But no one was coming to save me. No one knew where I was. At some point, Noble would’ve realized something had happened to me, but there was no way he’d know where I’d gone. Exhaustion threatened to pull me under—to drown me in a deep and dazed slumber, far away from the terror—but I had to come up with a plan.
I closed my eyes, trying to calm my pounding head and heart—trying tothink.
As girls, Raina and I had been prepared for situations like this. We’d learned how to hide in the secret passages at Castle Wynhaim, how to use daggers, how to fight back, how to survive in the woods for at least a day or two. I’d used that knowledge when I escaped Poe-on-Wend, but those original lessons had happened two decades ago, and my memory was hazy. And though Oderin had gotten me more comfortable with a sword in the past few weeks, I certainly couldn’t take five trained killers all on my own.
I would have to bide my time. Be clever.
A boot kicked my shin. “Wake up, Princess.”
I opened my eyes. A man stood before me. He was small-boned, athletic, with a patchy beard and scraggly, shoulder-length hair. Jord, I’d overhead someone call him.
“I’m not a princess,” I muttered. “You’re thinking of my cousin.”
He lowered into a squat so he could regard me at eye-level. “I was going to offer you a bit of food, but since you seem rather ungrateful, I’ve changed my mind.”
I pressed my lips together, trying to ignore the acid in my stomach as he sent his boot swiftly into the side of my hip. I took the hit, biting my tongue so I didn’t cry out—but he seemed satisfied by my wince, sniggering before he wandered off.
