Page 154 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
“Stop them!” Kalden yelled.
The camp was a maze of tents, people, fire circles, supplies, and loose horses—all conspiring to slow us down. Soldiers jumped into our path, waving their arms. My head jerked to the side as we doubled back, weaving through obstacles. Kalden’s hulking form came into view again; he shook his fist as we passed in the opposite direction, heading deeper into camp, only to turn around again. I threaded my hands into our mare’s mane, holding on for dear life as Noble maneuvered us this way and that.
Soon, we found our opening: a gap between tents that led west, toward Fenrir. Noble angled us for the narrow path, our mare barreling forward fiercely—
—only to skid to a halt when Kalden positioned himself in the way, his greatsword raised.
“We weren’t done with our conversation,” he called.
“I respectfully disagree,” Noble said.
Kalden lowered his blade and approached, his feet treading slowly over the trampled grass. Our mare skittered sideways, nearly bumping into one of the tents that formed this narrow chute to freedom. I glanced over my shoulder, dismayed to see a handful of soldiers and knights closing in.
We were blocked on all sides.
Kalden moved closer to our mount, lifting his non-sword-wielding hand in a placating manner, palm up. “There is still more to discuss. More options to consider.”
“No,” Noble replied firmly, “there isn’t. We will go to Fenrir and do as you asked, and then we will disappear. In a situation with no perfect outcomes, this one suits all parties.”
“Noble,” Kalden said, “I don’t wish to hold you captive, but—”
“Then let us go,” Noble interrupted. “You might serve the king, but I don’t, and neither does she. We will do as you asked, but in return, we ask for freedom.”
“Son…” Kalden’s palm remained lifted as he stepped sideways, nearing our mare’s shoulder.
“Give my best to Mother,” Noble murmured.
Kalden shook his head—then snatched forward, gripping my ankle with a firm hand. I cried out—not in pain, but in surprise. Behind me, I felt Noble’s entire body stiffen.
With just as much speed as his father, Noble reached down and gripped Kalden’s forearm. “Release her.”
Kalden shook his head, holding my leg firm. “Come back to the tent. We can strategize.”
Noble’s scarred knuckles paled as he squeezed his father’s arm. “Release. Her.”
Kalden scowled, jaw clenched.
Then, underneath Noble’s grip, somethingpopped.
Kalden’s eyes went wide, watering with pain. Noble flinched, releasing him abruptly. Our horse—nervous and eager to run—sidestepped, bumping into the canvas wall of a tent. I reached for her makeshift reins, tugging back, keeping her in place. Kalden was cradling his arm now, red-faced and sweating.
“You broke it!” Kalden panted, his face paling with shock. “It’s broken!”
Had Noble truly just squeezed Kalden’s arm so hard he crushed bone?
“Don’t follow,” Noble said, then kicked his feet.
Our mount barged her way through the narrow gap, blazing past soldiers with outstretched arms. We cleared the camp, then we were climbing the hill, our mare moving at a swift gallop through the meadow grass. With Noble’s hands on the reins, his arms caged me in, steadying me as we rode for our escape.
Toward Fenrir.
Toward our future.
Hours later, we came upon the remnants of a small camp. Noble swung off our mare, then helped me down, holding my hips loosely—notablyloosely—as I found my footing on exhausted, wobbly legs.
We were in the foothills of the Axe Mountains, where long tapered hills stretched down from the mountain rage like bony fingers. The camp wasnestled in the slight valley between two ridges, on the edge of a stand of twiggy saplings.
Safe—at least for now.
