Page 75 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
I knew what he was doing. Bringing up my identity was the best way to remind me what was at stake if we were caught.
My heart felt suddenly waterlogged, heavy. “Nobody wants that,” I said tightly.
“Doesn’t change the fact that you are an heir with lawful claim of Lothgaim.”
“Was,” I corrected. “Iwasheir. Then, if you recall, I was married off.”
“I remember,” Noble murmured. “I hate myself for it.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“But Ido,” he said roughly.
I shrugged like it didn’t matter, like the loss of my name—the erasure of my existence from the Census Ledgers of Marona—was an old scar instead of an unhealed wound. “Yes, well. I didn’t want my claim, anyway.”
“What you wanted didn’t matter, though,” Noble pointed out. Not to taunt me, but because it was true.
The Arcane Law of the Seven Territories could not be rejected; it’s why I’d been forced into hiding before the general populous heard the rumors Noble had accidentally spread. Because if the people of Lothgaim learned that I—mixed-born Maronan—had rightful claim of their territory, there would be a revolt. The peace and unity the king and queen strived for with Raina’s arranged marriage would be ruined. And I would be forced into a role I did not want. All because the law was sacred, and to publicly denounce it could shatter the sanctity of the kingdom.
“I wish that what I wanted mattered,” I whispered, meeting Noble’s eyes.
“Me, too.”
Noble was right. Thiswasdangerous.
I was a threat to the kingdom whether I accepted my claim or not. EvenafterRaina married the current heir of Lothgaim next year, myscandalous existence would still threaten her title, her safety, and the political unity her marriage was intended to foster. If anyone uncovered who I was—through my connection to Noble, or otherwise—manylives would be ruined.
Nearly ten years might’ve passed, but nothing had changed. Theonlyway to avoid the unrest was to pretend I didn’t exist.
But Marona and Lothgaim were a long way from here. While Noble’s family was well-known, my connection to him wasn’t. Of the people who’d seen us interact—mostly just Phina and her team—nobody seemed to care how long ago we’d met.
“What if we—”
“Hattie,” Noble said, reading my mind. “Sneaking around never ends well. You of all people should know that.”
I wasn’t ashamed to be a product ofsneaking around, but the reminder that my very existence was an example of itnot ending wellstill stung.
He was right, though.
Noble softened, stepped closer, and fixed the silky sleeve of my dress, his fingers lingering on the fabric. The intimate touch was entirely new, but also natural. Because we wereus, and the connection we shared…it had always been this fond, hadn’t it? Even back then. Even when I felt it but didn’tknowfor sure.
“How can everything be different,” I whispered, voice watery, “and still be exactly the same?”
His fingertips fell away from my dress. “Nothing has changed.” I got the sense that he meant emotionallyandin the way we ought to move forward.
I touched my fingertips to my tingling lips. Noble’s eyes tracked the movement. I wondered how red they looked to him, how swollen. When a faint smirk formed, I knew my mouth must’ve looked raw.
But then he frowned. “Maybe I shouldn’t have divulged all that.”
“Divulgedis an interesting way to describe what just happened.”
With a faint chuckle, he tilted his head to the dome above, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me. The windows were alight with shades of tangerine and plum now, the sun’s spectacular descent—a beautiful death.
“Noble.”
He met my eyes again.
“I’m glad you told me.”
