Page 131 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
“In my experience, damsels are more…grateful.”
“Gratitude is irrelevant,” Noble said, “as I am not in peril.”
“Your bindings beg to differ.”
Noble glanced at the soldiers who accompanied Brendan. In his disdain, he’d forgotten how illogical it was that Brendan was here. “What are you even doing in Fenrir?”
“Do you truly not know?” Brendan asked. “Why else would you be so close to my camp?”
“Your…” Noble frowned.
Brendan was not a mere adventurer, camping in the wilds for the sake of exploration—he was a Mighty Knight of Marona, camped onFenrirterritory.
Which could only mean one thing.
This wasbad.
“Oh, you actuallyaresurprised.” Brendan clapped amusedly, then placed his palms on his bent knees and rose to his full (inferior) height. “You know, I always wondered if the rumors were true. The son of General Kalden Asheren, leaving Marona in shame to join an unknown Order under Fenrir’s banner? I never quite believed you’d betray your father like that, but”—he jerked his chin, gesturing at Noble’s Oath tattoo—“it seems you have.”
“Fuck off, Brendan.”
“I’d say the same to you, but you can’t. Why is that,hmm? Who tied you up?”
An eerie whine echoed from far within the forest, followed by a large crash.
Mariana’s killing blow.
The sound of the Morta’s death call rippled through Noble like a stone tossed into a lake, disturbing his calm inner waters; something terrible began to rise from the deep, sliding through the depthless black of his being. Noble breathed through his nose, hoping that if he remained still, the monstrousness inside him would slip under the surface and return to the depths.
The soldiers shifted uncomfortably, but Brendan didn’t flinch at the Morta’s cry. He noticed Noble’s discomfort, though, his face brightening with cruel amusement. He crouched again, appearing utterly delighted to explain the situation to Noble. “Fenrir Territory has a longhistory of reckless magic and sordid research, but Lord Haron has been particularly naughty with his Arcane Adepts.” Brendan glanced in the direction of the Morta’s dying wail. “He has insulted the Fates by endeavoring to alternature. The results have been rather nasty, although”—he lifted a finger—“seeing as you clearly recognized that sound just now, I don’t believe any of this is news to you.” Brendan smiled, haughty and cruel. “Your father tasked me with investigating Lord Haron’s operation.”
“The assassins,” Noble said.
“Knights,” Brendan clarified. “A new Order under my stead, tasked with keeping Maronan interests secure from any and all Fenriran threats.”
“I should’ve known it wasyouwho sent such bumbling, incapablemoronsto the Collegium.”
“My scouts informed me that thosemoronsare returning to my camp with a prisoner as we speak.”
Noble failed to stifle his flinch.
Brendan brightened. “You know the weasel? I haven’t had the pleasure yet—but I will soon.”
Brendan didn’t know his morons tookHattie? He was even more inept than Noble would’ve guessed. It took an incredible amount of focus for Noble not give in to the monster’s desire for flesh and fury. It would feelso goodto sink his sharp teeth into Brendan’s neck.
Noble’s chuckle was mocking. “You’re in over your head.”
Brendan didn’t hesitate. The prick threw a punch, striking Noble squarely in the mouth, splitting Noble’s lip.
Noble spit out the blood.
It was black.
Three seconds passed in which they stared at it, a dark splotch in the grass between them.
When Brendan looked at Noble again, his eyes were wide with shock and wild with anger. “That’sthe Order you joined?” Brendan snarled. “You fucking traitor.”
Noble’s curse was waking up, snarling and angry. “You’re dead unless you get the vial from my pack,” he said through gritted teeth.
