Page 48 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
Standing in the archway of the Noble’s workshop, I watched as he used a pair of pliers to remove a molten-orange rod from the forge and plunge it into a vat of water with a spitting hiss of steam. When he removed it, the metal glimmered, its slate-gray surface oddly luminescent. Compared to the delicate work of herbology, metal alchemy was a hazardous blend of fire and force. In such close proximity to the forge, my face flamed—but it wasn’t just the heat. It washim.
The expert strike of his hammer.
The molten metal just inches from his capable hands.
The focused crease in his brow.
The confidence. The power. The rugged—
“You know I have sight magic, right?”
I cleared my throat, eyes darting from Noble’s hands to his stubbly jawline to his prying gaze. “Excuse me?”
He cocked his head. “I can see you standing there, staring.”
“I didn’t want to startle you.”
A short laugh.
Exasperated, I lifted my eyes briefly to the ceiling.
Noble set the metal rod on his anvil with a clatter, wiped his hands on a rag, and walked over to me. His voice was low when he spoke again. “Is there a reason you’re standing here, breaking rules one and two?”
I met those stunning green eyes and pretended they had no effect on me. “We have a problem.”
He inclined his head, waiting for me to continue.
“Phina has instructed me to assist you with your notes. She wants me to cross-reference them with mine.”
“Ah.” Noble jutted his chin in the direction of a small table to my right. It was heaped with loose papers. “Feel free.” He turned away, about to return to the forge—
“Noble.”
He faced me again, expectant.
I pointed at the mess, incredulous. “What isthat?”
“My notes?”
The papers weren’t even in stacks—they overlapped in a giant mountain at least two feet high. I strode over to the mound and lifted one off the top. When I did, a couple other loose pages slid sideways, and I had to catch them before they fell. With my hands still planted on the stack, preventing an avalanche, I glared at Noble. “Your organization is atrocious.”
He walked up behind me and shifted the pile into a steadier position. As he did, his chest brushed against my shoulder blade, his breath tickled my neck. I glanced toward the doorway, afraid someone might see our closeness, but we were hidden from view.
“What are you doing?” I whispered.
“Helping.”
I slid out from the shelter of his frame, my whole body tingling and on high alert. Clearing my throat, I craned my neck to read the page on the top of the pile. “This one is just a column of numbers withX’s and question marks.”
“Alchemical knot numbers.X’s meanno, question marks meanmaybe.”
“Why aren’t you using proper notation?” His system—if we could even call it that—would’ve given my Notation Basics professor a headache.
Noble just shrugged.
“This is a disaster, Noble,” I said, gesturing at the pile.
“Good thing you’re here to fix it.”
