Page 89 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
Compared to the ruckus inside the Ire, this part of the city was quite peaceful. The night sky was clear, the half-moon shining without obstruction. The air was fresh, chilly. A thin fog slithered along the street, clinging to the base of the buildings; I tasted snowmelt in its vapors as I walked purposefully in the direction of the Royal Inn of Fenrir.
As my head cleared, I became more and more grateful that I hadn’t found Mariana tonight—and more and more stupid for trying. Therewere other loose threads to follow, though—plenty that didn’t involve a potentially murderous knight.
I’d thought that if Noble didn’t want to talk to me, maybe I could help him from afar—but that was silly. He was theonlyperson I truly wanted to talk to about what was going on—and perhaps the only person who’d be honest with me, at least within his capability.
Not to mention the fact that I couldn’t stop thinking about ourkiss; I felt raw just thinking about his hands on my hips, his tongue in my mouth, his intoxicating taste. The revelations of the past couple days had been dizzying, but curse or no, I wanted him.Badly.
Did that make me a hopeless romantic—or simply hopeless?
I picked up my pace, boots echoing on the cobblestones. Perhaps by now, Noble would’ve returned to his room, and—
My vision went dark, fabric smothering my head. A burlap sack, judging by the flashes of moonlight I managed to see through the open weave. I shrieked, and a hand closed over my mouth on top of the fabric. I tasted the grass-like fibers, along with soil and potato skins, and the faintest bit of salt from my captor’s sweaty palm. An arm came around my middle, dragging me sideways. I tried to recall what Oderin had taught me about escaping holds like this, but instinct overpowered all else. I thrashed and kicked wildly, screaming, but my assailant’s grip was unyielding.
“Stop. Struggling,” a female voice growled into my ear.
I fumbled for Uriel’s blade at my hip, but my attacker noticed and got to it first, deftly angling the dagger against my throat.
Suddenly I wasn’t in Fenrir, but back in Marona, my nightgown tangled around my legs and my bare heels kicking against the rug in the hallway. A different blade against my neck, scraping the delicate skin under my jaw. Distant shouts echoing through the keep, the clash of steel too far away to give me hope.
The memory made me go slack, my libs weak and shaky.
“Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me,” I begged into her palm, fear lancing through me like a blade itself. “Please, please, please.”
“Shut the fuck up and perhaps I’ll spare you,” she hissed.
I whimpered, doing as I was told as she wrenched me down the street. Not long after that, she shifted her hold from my mouth to grip the burlap at my crown, catching some of my hair in the process. In one swift move, she yanked the sack off my head and shoved me to the ground.
I fell on my hands and knees on the rough cobblestones, my scalp stinging. There was a stone building in front of me, some wood crates off to my left. I was in an alley—one that looked frustratingly familiar.
With effort, I rolled to the side, sitting with my back propped up against the wall. I blew a frizzy coil of hair out of my eyes, feeling roughed-up and afraid, but also deeply annoyed. When I looked up, I couldn’t help but scowl.
Mariana loomed over me wearing all black, her legs braced in a cocky stance, arms folded across her black breastplate, a half-snarl-half-smirk causing her scarred upper lip to curl. She tipped her head as she regarded me, her expression gradually morphing into amusement.
Apparently, my irritation was funny to her.
“I heard you were looking for me.” Mariana spread her arms invitingly, Uriel’s dagger still gripped in her hand. “How can I be of service?”
32
You Asked for This
Hattie
You asked for this, Hattie, I told myself, mustering up the courage to speak. It was hard to find courage when Mariana was staring down at me so menacingly. I reminded myself that she might’ve been threatening, but in all the instances we’d crossed paths, she hadn’t actuallydoneanything. It was a comfort to think that perhaps—as Faren had said—I wasn’t worth the effort of harming.
Then again, I hadn’t opened my mouth yet. If she decided I knew too much, perhaps shewouldfind me worthy of silencing.
I decided to start with the most compelling reason for seeking her out—certainly she wouldn’t immediately kill me if I intrigued her, right?
“I need a favor,” I said.
“I’m not sure you have sufficient leverage to ask for favors,Hattie.” With practiced flare, Mariana twisted her fingers, spinning Uriel’s dagger across the back of her hand. “I’m doingyoua favor just by letting you speak without this sad little knife lodged in your thigh.”
I gulped.
She smiled, all teeth.
“I need blood,” I managed.
