Page 25 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
“Why offer it tome?” I narrowed my eyes at her. “Is this because I’m friends with Idris?”
“No.”
“Thenwhy?” I asked, incredulous.
“Why not?”
I could think of many reasons why not. I started with: “Because I can’t alchemize even a basic love potion. Don’t you want an advanced apprentice? Someone who’s more—”
“Are you questioning my judgement?”
I stared at her, horrified.
Phina’s elbows were still on her desk, and when she leaned forward, the wood groaned. “What’s the difference between you and your fellow pupils?”
I huffed. “I’m older.”
“What about the way you alchemize?”
I scoffed. “I’m messier.”
“You’rescrappier,” she amended. “Intuitive. Mindful of waste. You’re also aware of your shortcomings, whereas most of your classmates are not.”
I thought of Sani and Uriel and how hard they tried—how talented they were—and frowned.
Phina gave me a shrewd look. “Of all the students in my class today, your potion was the most polished, effective, and viable. Shaky on the details, but you’re learning. That’s normal. You’ll improve with practice.” Phina’s lips quirked. “Your biggest flaw is that you lack confidence.You have a keen instinct, but for some reason you don’t always listen to it. Why is that?”
I glanced away, my attention landing on the green spine of a book with a gold-foiled title:Herbs. For the first twenty years of my life, I was taught that my instincts were not to be trusted. That becoming an apothecary was a dream, not reality, and that dreams were for little girls, not responsible noblewomen.
And though I wasfreefrom those old expectations, the training and beliefs were still imbedded in my skin like splinters, deep, painful, and impossible to pull out.
“I don’t know,” I replied thickly, trying to force the emotion out of my throat.
“I think you do.”
My palms were clammy, slick. I slid them across the tops of my thighs, rubbing them slowly over the front of my dress. “I’m not here to become an adept,” I argued. “I’m only here for a few months, to get my apothecary license.”
“You can be an apprentice on my team and still pursue your license,” Phina assured me. “But let me ask a different question, Hattie: Do youwantto participate in my research?”
The only thing publicly known about her research was that one minute, Phina Farkept was just another young professor, and the next, she was being given permanent residence at the Collegium and heading a research program funded by Lord Haron himself. A veritable coup within academic circles. Unknown as Phina’s research was, it wasstillthe talk of the city.
Of course, I was curious.Of course,I wanted to participate. Not just because Phina was my herbology idol—but because her research was highly covert. Which meant it must’ve been highly important.Groundbreaking.
“It would be an honor,” I answered, sitting forward. “I’ve read all your books. My first copy ofAn Herbologist’s Guide to Tincturesbecame so worn that the binding literally fell apart; I had to buy another. Absolutely brilliant, the way you break things down so succinctly. Same with your compendiums. I knowGamin’s Compendiaare considered the definitive source, but yours are far more intuitive. I even read your pamphlet theorizing the fertile properties of Fenriran water—which was fascinating, by the way, although I’ll admit I didn’t fully understand the alchemical principles you cited. I only wish you’d started publishing a decade earlier, but”—I snorted at the foolishness of my own comment—“you were a teenager then, same as me.”
“It was just a question, Hattie, I wasn’t vying for flattery.”
“Not flattery,” I said with a quick shake of my head. “I’m being genuine.”
A smile crinkled her eyes—then she sat back, her expression turning thoughtful. Serious. “You were not incorrect the other night.” Her careful phrasing was no doubt due to her Oath, which probably prevented her from speaking freely about her research in mixed company. “Does that scare you?”
Monsters. Her research was about monsters.
I should’ve been scared—terrified. But instead, my curiosity was stirring, a hound locking onto a scent—insatiable. “No,” I answered. “It doesn’t.”
Phina stroked her jaw with a tattooed finger. “It should.”
“Are you inviting me into your program because I know too much?”
