Page 69 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
I’m so grateful we’re friends, Anya.
Hattie
P.S. Oderin sends his best—to both of you.
25
Black Lace
Noble
With a frustrated growl, Noble set down his hammer and tongs.
When he’d last looked up from his task, the sun had still been climbing, weak beams of light streaming through gaps in the clouds to the east; now, the sun sat low in the west, casting long shadows across his worktable. The forge was well-made, his materials pure, his tools finely crafted—yet in spite of the resources and endless days, Noblestillwasn’t making any progress.
Weaving magic around Gildium involved precise tempering, attentiveness, and sheer force of will—exhausting not just for the body, but the mind. And when the stakes were this high—when failure meant he’d eventuallydie, along with countless innocent victims caught in the crosshairs of the curse’s spread—it was hard not to become frustrated by his ongoing failure.
Noble cleaned his filthy hands with a damp rag and stormed out of the workshop, needing fresh air away from the hot coals and molten metal—away from his dark thoughts. Perhaps a lap around the circumference of the dome would clear his head enough for him to push through another hour or two of work.
Ever since Viren’s incident over two weeks ago, Phina’s researchers had been coming and going in pairs, with no one lingering after dark. As he meandered through the empty gardens, Noble imagined them off supping or studying in the safety of a pub or dorm. Laughing. Relaxing. Unburdened.Free.
Noble was grateful to be a part of Phina’s research, but he still feltbound. By his affliction, by his past, by the expectations that had ruled his entire life. If Noble could figure out the key to alchemizing Gildium and Hylder, perhapstruefreedom would be within reach. Perhaps he could prove to himself that he wasn’t destined to fail at everything he set his mind to.
A breeze wafted over Noble’s face, cooling the sweat on his brow and ruffling his hair. He extended a hand over a raised bed, running his fingers lightly over the fuzzy leaves of a lemon balm plant. Out here in the gardens, the lab was an explosion of green in all shades: vibrant lime, pale sage, deep emerald, chartreuse. The verdancy strained his eyes, the colors almost oversaturated in the harsh late-afternoon light. When he inhaled indulgently, he smelled mint, roses, apple blossoms.
The herbaceous scent reminded him of Hattie.Was there anything that didn’t?
She hadn’t spoken to Noble in sixteen days—not since their conversation in the aftermath of Viren’s attack. In that time, he’d mentally scolded himself a million different ways. For what he’dadmitted, but also for his selfishness.
Emotional whiplash, she’d called it.This isn’t fair.
In adolescence, he’d thought of their friendship as a waltz of flirtation and gentle rejection. Of closeness and distance. But maybe it was really a wound, healing halfway, only to be reopened. Maybe her flirtatiousness hadn’t been a sign of openness, but a form of armor to protect the truth underneath.
It’d been cruel of him to throw her feelings in her face in Waldron. Cruel of him to hold her in his arms—for nostalgia’s sake, or comfort—andknowher heart would ache when he let go. Cruel of him to tell her he cared when he knew the truth would only complicate matters.
But he’d been so frightened and furious when he saw the blood on her thin little chemise that the words had poured out of him, unbidden. Words he’dwanted to say the first time she’d had a run-in with an assassin; words he’d wanted to say when her aunt and uncle sent her away. Words he’d held back for the sake of decorum. For the sake of them both. A burden he’d been willing to bear—until that morning, apparently.
Now that he’d admitted he wasn’t as cold-hearted as he’d led her to believe since they were seventeen…well, he wasn’t sure what to do. He felt as if he’d stepped up to the edge of a cliff. As long as he didn’t take that final step, everything would be fine—yet still, he teetered every time he saw her.
Leave her alone, he’d reminded himself day after day in Phina’s lab.Do nothing.
She deserved a man who didn’t lie to her. He couldn’t, in good conscience, pursue a closer relationship with her while bearing the massive secret of his affliction. And he couldn’ttellher about his altered state when his retired Oath prevented him from talking about it. When Phina forbid it, too. When Hattie was who she was, and Noble was who he was, andboththeir identities—the monster blood in his veins and the scandalous mix of royal blood in hers—were at risk.
There were simply too many reasons why giving into their urges was a bad idea.
Unfortunately, her forbidden-ness just made him want her even more.
Thankfully, they hadn’t encountered each other much since his admission. And with the Collegium abuzz with gossip, new procedures, and extra guards and knights of various Orders loitering about, all of Phina’s apprentices had been in a state of edgy, determined focus. There hadn’t been many opportunities to acknowledge Hattie, let alone speak privately.
Noble sighed. His muscles were beginning to slacken, his strides longer and looser. He’d reached the outer edge of the dome, where large shrubs and fruit trees spread their arms welcominglytoward the waning sun. The windows were cracked, magnifying the warmth even as a cool breeze slipped inside.
Noble turned down a flagstone path to his left, wandering aimlessly—only to come to a particularly striking shrub.
Its lacy leaves were the color of currants: a black that blushed dark purple. It stood well over Noble’s head and bore tiny, pink-tinged buds in clusters the size of his palm. The Hattie of his youth had once shown him a diagram in one of her books of the various types of grouped flowers. These, Noble knew, were arranged in an umbel—a round cluster that resembled an upside-down bowl. They were edible, as were the shrub’s dark berries, which would form in autumn.
Black Lace Hylder.
It was aptly named, its leaves delicate and dark. Noble ran his fingers over the fringe of one of its stems, and a thrill raced up his arm, skin tingling with a feverish heat—as if the plant sensed his disease and wanted to burn it out of him.
