Page 80 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
I nodded and lifted my blade.
Noble’s mouth pressed into a serious line, and he crossed the tip of his sword with mine. Together, we said the words, “Fate, Fortune, Death.”
Even though I knew it was coming, Noble’s first strike surprised me. I wasn’t used to feeling defensive in his presence; the contrast was strange. I blocked jerkily at first, but eventually found a rhythm, angling my swordhorizontally, vertically, deflecting each one of Noble’s slow but persistent blows.
I didnotlook any farther than his dull practice weapon—even seeing his abs in my periphery was enough to make my heart race far faster than it ought to with this amount of exertion.
“Mind your feet!” Oderin called out to me, and I shuffled sideways, remembering what he’d taught me. “Good, Hattie!”
“Good, Hattie,” Noble repeated softly, and it made me misstep.
I threw out my sword, causing Noble’s blade to slide across mine; I deflected it to the dirt.
“Nicely done!” Oderin called. “Reset.”
We did as we were told. Said the words. Started again.
“You’re better than I expected,” Noble said. The words might’ve sounded patronizing if it weren’t for his utterly sincere, slightly amused tone.
“Really? You’re worse than I expected.”
In response, his blows became a little harder, quaking up the metal of my sword and into my biceps and my shoulder. Meanwhile, he held his non-sword-wielding hand behind his back like this was a pleasant walk along the river.
I put some effort into my blocks, deflecting him with more force, channeling my frustration into my training.
“Remember your core!” Oderin demanded from the sidelines.
I flexed my abdominal muscles, trying not to think about how they’d flexed last night with my hand between my legs as I imagined—
I felt a tap on my thigh: Noble’s sword.
“Reset,” Oderin said.
Noble bounced his eyebrows. “Distracted?”
“Absolutely not.”
We started again, the clack of his strikes and my blocks filling the empty yard.
“Now switch!” Oderin ordered.
Noble stopped his attack at once. It was my turn to take the offensive, but when I looked down at my sword, I hesitated. As much as I wanted to make him sweat, I didn’t want to make himbleed.
“Don’t fear your power, Hattie,” Oderin called. “Trust he can defend himself.”
I shuffled forward, going for my first strike. Noble blocked it, an encouraging smile on his face. “Keep going,” he said softly.
My body heard the words in a different context. I saw it in a flash: that hard, bare torso between my thighs, those scarred hands gripping my hips, rolling me against—
Sword brandished, I lunged at him, striking in quick succession, desperate to dispel the desire, to exhaust myself until my body stopped feeling soawake. Noble chuckled like he didn’t quite believe my viciousness, which only spurred me on, raining blow after blow upon his sword.
“Pause!” Oderin ordered.
I stopped, weapon still aloft, panting.
Noble appeared out of breath, too. Sweat slicked his chest; a single bead slid between the ridges of his abdomen, and I glanced away before I saw it reach his waistband.
Oderin came over to me, gripped my elbow, and shifted it into a different angle. I felt my back muscles turn on, my grip become steadier. “Feel that?”
