Page 53 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
Perhaps it was time I let go of my long-unrequited infatuation.
I took another sip of my concoctail, finding the taste suddenly bitter.
“Hattie?”
I blinked, coming out of my melancholic reverie. “I’m sorry?”
“Want to come with me to the dining hall?” Sani asked. “I need bread to soak up all this alcohol.”
Uriel grunted. “Yes, please go before you insult me further.”
Sani smirked as she wobbled to her feet.
“Bread sounds great.” I stood, too, high stepping over the pillows and the empty concoctail bottle toward the door. “Want anything, Uriel?” I called over my shoulder.
Reclining against the pillows, Uriel grunted. “Silence. And perhaps more cheese.”
I flashed her a grin as I closed the door.
Sani looped her arm through mine as we started down the corridor. “What about you, Hattie? Have anyone you fancy?”
I pressed my lips together, hoping she mistook my blush for the effects of the alcohol instead of the mixture of longing and embarrassment I experienced any time I thought of Noble. “No,” I squeaked. “No one.”
“Probably for the best, what with the demands of Phina’s study.” Sani waggled her eyebrows. “You’re too busy making alchemical breakthroughs, aren’t you?”
I chuckled. “Exactly.”
We came upon the wide stone staircase that led to the ground floor, where the dining hall was located. A gaggle of students were making their way up the stairs at the same time, a mass of unrecognizable faces. I offered them a polite, close-lipped smile of acknowledgement as Sani and I shuffled past. But when we reached the landing halfway down, someone from the group called out.
“Hattie?”
I halted, turned. A dark-haired apprentice had paused on the upper steps, while the rest of her group continued to the floor above.
“Viren, hello,” I said. “Do you live in Inver, too?”
“Room 205,” she said. “You?”
“201,” I replied. “I’m surprised we haven’t crossed paths here before.”
She shrugged. “I stay at my partner’s place most nights. But it’s nice to know I have another friend in the building.”
Friend. After she’d helped me with Noble’s atrocious notes, we’d developed a rapport, but the word still caught me off guard—in a pleasant way. “Me, too.”
Sani cleared her throat.
“Oh—this is my roommate, Sani,” I said. “Sani, this is Viren, she’s an apprentice from—agh.” An awful taste filled my mouth, cutting me off. The flavor was both sour and rancid, and I stuck my tongue out with a groan, trying not to gag.
Viren descended onto the landing. “Are you all right, Hattie?” she asked, raising a dark brow as she touched my wrist.
Tapped it twice.
I looked down—at my Oath tattoo.
That’swhat that was? The taste of Oath magic?
All Oaths were woven from extremely powerful arcane magic and were known to sting, ring in one’s ears, or emit a bad taste when an Oath-taker veered too far from their tenets. I had yet to encounter thelimits of my Oath of Allegiance, but given the context, the warning must’ve been to not divulge too much about how we knew each other.
But did it have to taste so terrible?Saliva pooled in my mouth. I swallowed, shivered, swallowed again.Bleh.
