Page 130 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
He would’ve never allowed Mariana to tie him up like this if it weren’t for the proximity of a Morta. They’d been riding in relative silence, staring out across the shadowy plains, when a monstrous, high-pitched scream had pierced the night. The sound had taken Noble back to the dungeons of his Order, back to being chained to a wall with arcane magic searing his fingers, listening to the agonized cries of other knights in other cells and trying not to let his inner monster take over.
If the sight of his own blood made him want to turn, Noble was certain that the sight of a Morta—or even an animal afflicted with the disease of a Morta’s bite—would be enough to turn him, too.
It’d been his idea to have Mariana tie him up with their horses.
She had been all too happy to oblige.
Was it dangerous for him to sit here, exposed, with a Morta lurking nearby? Yes. But it wasmoredangerous to risk turning into a Morta, himself.
Noble breathed deeply, trying not to think too hard about the risk of monsters in his vicinity. He and Mariana were close on Hattie’s trailnow—he’d seen it in the fresh tracks of hoof-trampled earth, trails cutting through the tall grass with folded stalks that had not yet sprung back up. It had taken immeasurable strength not to go with Mariana, but he couldn’t. If Hattie was in those woods, facing that monster, Noble had to stay away. He hated that his absence always seemed to be the safest thing for her—but he was more than happy to hate himself for the sake of her well-being.
So, he sat there, breathing, trying to think of happier memories with Hattie.
The way the snow had glittered in her golden hair the first time he saw her, spying on him from the upstairs window of the keep.
The way her freckles deepened from chestnut brown to a chocolaty umber in the summertime.
The way she braided daisies into her hair on parade days.
Her mischievous smile.
Her laugh.
Her earnestness, her attitude, her romanticism—
The ground tremored with footsteps, announcing Mariana’s return.
Something in Noble’s chest released, like a fist unclenching. He was eager to hear what Mariana had seen—if she’d spotted Hattie. If she’d faced the monster and rescued Hattie amid the chaos.
“It’s about time,” he called out, his teasing greeting distant to his own ears through the wool. “I’m assuming you were successful?”
“Successful, indeed,” a male voice intoned.
The wool was tugged out of Noble’s ears, the blindfold yanked off his head, and Noble looked up to see—
—the verylastperson he wanted to encounter.
Brendan Fucking Harrow stood in front of Noble with his fists on his hips, flanked by four subordinates carrying torches. While the soldiers were dressed plainly, Brendan’s chest was fitted with the signature gold breastplate of a Knight of the Order of the Mighty. The toolingalong the edges and the star in the middle was distinctly Maronan—and high-ranking.
Captain.
Noble’s stomach twisted in the same way it had on the day he’d been rejected by the Mighty Oath. Just the sight of the breastplate Noble had failed to earn, on the man whom his father had once referred to asa second son, opened a deep well of shame in his gut.
So Noble tried not to look at Brendan’s Mighty armor too closely.
Aside from the uniform, Brendan looked basically the same as nearly a decade before: dirty blond hair, cruel eyes, and a straight nose above permanently pursed lips. Though Noble stood six inches taller, Brendan had always been bulkier, and the advantage of Noble’s height was useless when he was seated on the ground, bound, with Brendan looming over him.
“Surprised?” Brendan asked.
“I’m always surprised to see you standing on your own two feet instead of crawling to kiss my father’s boots,” Noble replied.
Brendan lowered himself into a crouch, scowling. “You’ve always been a jealous bastard.”
“Of the two of us, I’m not the bastard. Or wait—you’re an orphan, not a bastard. My mistake.”
Brandan’s eyes narrowed. “Do you really want to taunt your rescuer?”
Resisting the urge to spit on Brendan’s face, Noble smirked. “Fancy me your damsel?”
