Page 9 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
It was maddening. Amusing. Torturous.
The rest of their year had unfolded much the same, with Hattie at turns icy and sweet. Noble didn’t know what he hated more: the agony of having to rebuke her playfulness, or the jealousy he felt whenever she gave him the cold shoulder in favor of other townsfolk (if he had to watch her dance with another moon-eyed fool at another festival he’d combust).
But Noble remained stalwart in his convictions. If someone so much asobserveda moment of ease between them, the gossips in town would spread the news like sparks on the wind. Noble had already ruined Hattie’s life with one wildfire of gossip; he’d never make the same mistake again. For her safety, no one could ever know how they knew each other.
So, he’d been glad when she left Waldron for her apprenticeship—not just because he delighted in her realizing a lifelong dream of studying with the Order of Alchemy, but because, for several blissful weeks, he hadn’t been tormented with the push and pull ofwantingto see her andneedingto avoid her.
And now—Fates help him—now he had to follow her to Fenrir. The vials should’ve lasted him longer—another reason to consult his alchemist in the city.
Noble scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw. Dawn hadn’t yet broken, but there was no way he’d get back to sleep now.
Not bothering to get dressed, he retrieved a heel of sourdough and a jar of preserves from the pantry, then plunked down at his two-person dining table. He tore off a hunk of hard crust, dipped it into the jar, and ate. The taste of peaches exploded on his tongue, making him sigh.
A year. A wholeyearof studying with one of the last Gildium artisans in the kingdom, and Noble still hadn’t gotten any closer to alchemizing the magical metal and finding a proper cure for his curse. His letters to the Adept of Alchemy who’d sent him here were punctuated with apology. Waldron, itself, had been lovely—a veritable paradise of pastoral peace and charm—but his time here had been marred by disappointment. Noble was no stranger to failure; his whole life had been defined by it. But the waning of efficacy of his tincture—the very thing keeping him from becoming a literal monster—scared him.
And he was right to be scared.
Fear is your friend, the Adept of the Order of the Arcane had told him when he underwent his change seven years ago.Fear reminds you of what you value. Fear tethers you to your humanity.
Noble dipped another piece of sourdough into the peach preserves and bit into the soft flesh of the bread. He licked the sweetness off his bottom lip, an ache opening up inside him that felt worryingly similar to yearning.
And what of love?he’d asked the adept through gritted teeth.
Love?the adept repeated.Love should no longer be in your vocabulary.
A Letter
Posted from: Anya Alvara, Pretty Possum Inn & Pub, Waldron-on-Wend, Fenrir T.
Dear Hattie,
In the spirit of honest correspondence, I should admit that Martha already rearranged your baking supplies. Not to worry, we can put it all back when you return.
What else is new? It’s Waldron, so, not much. I am proud to report that all the herbs in your garden remain alive. The logistics for Illian’s wedding are coming together nicely. There are ducklings, cygnets, and goslings all over town—I’m sorry you’re missing the mass hatching, I know you love watching them waddle.
No significant gossip, although I did overhear Richold and Kara laughing rather flirtatiously together at the market the other day. Martha and Vera are still convinced there’s nothing between them, but I sensed something. Perhaps your romanticism has rubbed off on me. I suspect Idris’s influence has had an effect on my belief in love, too.
Speaking of love, I haven’t seen your crush in days. I know he’s handsome, but why a social butterfly such as yourself would pine after such a recluse, I’ll never understand. Do opposites ever really attract?
Anyway, I miss you sorely—sass and all. Are your fellow classmates impressed by your considerable wit yet?
Love and hugs,
Anya
P.S. Send me the recipe for your blackberry drinking vinegar, would you? Vera has been requesting it and I can’t find any in the pantry.
3
Apprentice
Hattie
Your drinks are so much better than these, Hattie,” Uriel said, frowning at her glass of brandywine and bitters.
“She’s right, you have agift,” Sani slurred.
I pursed my lips in a proud little smile, even as I waved my hand to clear away my new friends’ compliments.
