Page 138 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
He gestured to our right, where the crowd of onlooking soldiers and knights had backed away, revealing a small table. A collection of bottles and jars were cluttered on the wooden surface, along with a lantern.
Help with what?I’d asked. I was afraidthiswas my answer.
“I’ll be honest with you, Hattie,” Brendan began, “General Asheren sent me here for the sole purpose of protecting Marona from Lord Haron’s nefarious adepts and wretched creatures. The Order of knights under my purview—whom you so lovingly referred to asmorons—have done their best to mitigate the risks, but Fenrir’s rot runs deep.”
A guttural snarl came from Noble, making me shudder. A tear tracked down my face as Brendan continued.
“When I found Noble lurking a few miles from my camp, on his way to rescue the apprentice my knights had captured, I wasn’t exactly sure how I’d leverage his unexpected presence.” His grin turned conniving. “But thenyouturned out to be that apprentice, and, well, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”
He gripped my upper arm—fingers pressing painfully into my flesh—and hauled me toward the table.
The makeshiftlab table.
“You’ve always been obsessed with alchemy, haven’t you? I used to think it uncouth for an otherwiselovelylady of court, but seeing as my knights have been so ineffective, I thought—with your help—I’d try a different tactic to protect Marona,” Brendan explained. “Instead of working for Fenrir, why don’t you lend your talents tous, your hometerritory? I had my men prepare this table with everything you might need. Heal General Asheren’s son, or else you both die.”
Brendan wanted me to uncover the cure. He wanted toforceit out of me.
Tears blurred my vision. “Are youmad?!” I boomed, shoving him again. “Researchers have been working on this for years! Noble has minutes!”
“Then you better get to work,” Brendan said.
Noble was still on his hands and knees, his skin webbed with black. Dread gripped me by the windpipe, strangling all thought except for the horror of what was happening to him.
The man I loved.
My future.
Myeverything.
I would not allow the Fates to forsake Noble like this.
“Go on,” Brendan taunted.
I wanted to throttle Brendan for this. Destroy him and everything he held dear, just as he was doing to me. But I didn’t have the means, and there wasn’t time.
I turned toward the worktable and took in the spread of ingredients. The setup was strangely familiar—similar to the research benches in Phina’s lab. There were three empty, wide-mouth pitchers and a quartz stirring spoon. A jar of powdered Gildium, sprigs of Common and Black Lace Hylder flowers, a bottle of pure Hylderberry syrup, a few dried leaves of other purification herbs, a mortar and pestle. Plus, a series of half-pint bottles, clear glass, identical in shape, but filled with various shades of clear liquid.
I picked one up and examined its label:Water, River Gray.
I looked at another:Water, River Wynhaim.
Another:Water, Geothermal Pool #16.
Water, Geothermal Pool #39.
Water, Geothermal Pool #7.
Water, Well of Fate.
I hesitated on that last one, lifting it up to the lantern light.
It was the color of a fresh sprig of sage, a translucent blue-green. Perhaps it was the exhaustion or my frantic nerves, but the water seemed to glow faintly, like starlight reflecting on a still pond.
How in the Fates had Brendan gotten his hands on such a sample? Anya had made it sound likeno onehad visited the Well of Fate in centuries. Except…well, except she and Idris hadn’t been alone in the Western Wood. A group of knights from Idris’s past had helped them escape.
A deep, guttural growl spilled through the camp like a landslide, rattling the glasses on my little table. Noble was rising from his hands and knees, and he was—
A sob escaped my lips.
