Page 159 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
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 whenyouwere 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 feltother.
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.”
Epilogue: Sharpen Your Knives and Wits
Hattie
My sides hurt from laughing. My legs hurt from dancing. My cheeks hurt from smiling.
In all my years in Waldron, I’d never been to a Soliden Festival so joyful.
Soliden was Waldron’s annual summer solstice celebration, a mirror of Astrophel in winter. Three days of music, amazing food, summery beverages, dancing with ribbon streamers, and socializing so much my voice went hoarse. Not to mention the rows upon rows of market tents selling clothing, jewelry, metalwork, crafts, snacks, and—new to town this year—a stall with tinctures and potions made by a newly licensed apothecary.
Me.
