Page 55 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
A Letter
Posted from: Anya Alvara, Pretty Possum Inn & Pub, Waldron-on-Wend, Fenrir T.
Dear Hattie,
I say: You deserve to feel proud and excited about such a rare opportunity. I am also not surprised that Phina noticed your talent; it’s hard to miss!
But I must add: be careful. There are many secrets in Fenrir and—speaking from personal experience—it’s best not to learn them. Idris would also like me to remind you that Phina’s brother Oderin is a safe resource should you need one.
As for Illian and Alden’s wedding, it was splendid: the parade, the food, the flowers, all lovely. I have a bit of news for you, as well, but I’d rather tell you in person—I hope you’ll forgive me for making you wait! (Although, reading that back, I suspect you’ve already guessed; when I tell you this fall, please pretend you’re surprised?).
Wicker says Woof Woof!
Love and hugs,
Anya
P.S. Richold said Noble went to Fenrir for some mysterious errand. You haven’t run into him, have you? Wouldn’t that be funny!
20
Inertia
Noble
He watched her from behind tall foliage, the vantage of a predator stalking prey.
Again, she wore the white dress—alwaysthe white dress—light shining through thin fabric to reveal the outline of her legs. She was deadheading herbs, humming to herself. Noble felt a tingling sensation in his teeth, a desire to tear flesh. His whole body was taut; he was both a crossbow and its bolt, aiming to strike.
But he also knew this was a dream—knew he was teetering on the edge of a nightmare. Unlike in past dreams, Noble wasawarethat he was not actually a predator. He was just a man, crouched behind the fragrant stalks of sage and mint, observing a woman whom the vile part of him wanted to consume, but whom themalepart of him wanted to—
Noble sat up abruptly.
Gray light streamed through dusty curtains; dawn was breaking, and the sky was overcast with the threat of rain. Blinking, he noticed he’d kicked his blankets onto the floor, exposing his arousal—a symptom of morning, but also…
He clenched his teeth and looked away, shame and guilt twisting around his lungs like poisonous vines. He raked his hair back with rough fingers, scrubbed a palm over his stubbled jaw. When he caught sight of the Oath of Allegiance tattoo on his wrist, a tired exhale gusted out of him, collapsing his chest.
He’d been staying at the Royal Inn of Fenrir—the name a gimmick, not a true connection to royalty—for five weeks, and onlynowwere the urges of his curse returning. Based on his progression, Hattie’s tincture from Waldron could be as much as twice as effective as the tinctures Phina had given him.
He’d overhead Phina and Hattie working in the garden together yesterday afternoon; he’d been on his way out of the lab when Hattie squealed with excitement. Whatever they’d uncovered, Phina would have thoughts to report to him today. A cure would be too good to be true, but hopefully, it was a longer-term solution.
The Fates might’ve punished him at times, but he was lucky to have met Phina. Two years ago, when his former Order had been retired, his fellow knights had slowly, gruesomely succumbed to the affliction. It was Phina who’d discovered a temporary remedy—a tincture to curb the transformation. It’d been too late for the others, but with her medicine, Phina had saved Noble’s life—and launched herself into the Lord’s esteem.
When her research at the Ocs began, she’d insisted Noble take an Oath of Allegiance to join her team—not just because her research had a direct impact on his future, but because his passion for metal alchemy was useful. Thus began his study of Gildium. His journey to Waldron.
Phina might’ve had a better workshop, but fancy tools could never replace a well-timed suggestion from an expert in the material. Lately, Noble found himself missing Richold’s soft-spoken guidance and camaraderie. The blacksmith came from a long line of Gildium artisans, his lineage leading all the way back to the golden age of metal alchemy in Kelebraim-on-Gray. The once-magnificent metropolis—renowned for the skill of its craftspeople—had crumbled to ruin centuries ago, but remnants of its legacy remained in folks like Richold.
In fact, it was for that legacy that Richold had agreed to teach Noble in the first place. Without children of his own, Richold saw Noble asa son of sorts—someone to whom he could pass his knowledge. Noble didn’t deserve the honor—he’d already disappointedonefather—but he was determined to make the most of Richold’s faith and kindness. He was determined to continue his role in Phina’s research from afar. And with any luck, Hattie’s breakthrough yesterday had moved his departure closer.
Because heneededto get out of Fenrir City.
Over the past month, it had become painfully obvious that Hattie was harmed by his presence—and none of their rules could fix that. He’d seen the way she looked at him in the lab: anger, fondness, desire. The emotions on her face conveyed everything he felt in his heart, and Noble hated seeing his own misery reflected back to him.
Just because he wasgoodat pretending he didn’t care about her didn’t mean she made it easy.
The Mirrors of Fate showed Noble nothing of his future, yet time and circumstance continually brought him back toher. No matter how hard he tried to live his life in darkness, she was the sun around which his entire world seemed to revolve; though Noble fought her gravity, he felt constantly pulled in her direction, powerless to the inertia.
But they were meant to be apart.
