Page 92 of Fate's Sweetest Curse
She snorted a laugh. “Fucking Fates, Hattie, you’re in over your head.”
Thinking only of Noble, I pressed, “Is that a yes?”
Her smile was small, mocking. “How do you imagine someone would investigate such a thing,hmm?”
I felt my cheeks heat, but I persisted. “I already know they canwarpFate, but—”
“We’re done here.”
I shifted uncomfortably. “Fine. But if I continue to research this topic, will the Valiant…come for me?”
She scoffed. “When I’m sent to kill, Ikill.”
Just as Faren had indicated. “So Viren…?”
“Don’t insult me.”
“The attackerdidlook like you.”
“Brown hair? Short stature?” she mocked. “Rather common description, don’t you think?”
“You sound defensive.”
“I amannoyed.”
That, I didn’t doubt. “Do you have any idea who, then?”
Mariana stepped closer, until we were almost chest to chest. She procured Uriel’s blade from her sleeve and angled the tip against my cheekbone. “No more questions.” With a flick, she removed the blade from my cheek, gripped my belt, and slid the dagger back into its sheath.
Then she turned on a heel and started down the alley.
Fear held my lungs hostage; it took me a moment to recover my breath. With a gasping inhale, I called out, “Are you going to get me what I requested?”
Mariana didn’t bother to reply as she strode down the length of the alley and disappeared around the corner—but something about the way she’d softened on the topic of researching monsters made me hopeful she’d deliver.
And even if she didn’t, our conversation had been enlightening. In fact, considering I was still standing and did not have a knife in my thigh, this night had gone spectacularly well.
Sparing one last glance in the direction Mariana had gone, I turned the opposite way, coming out of the alley onto Rose Street.
Perfect, I thought. I was only a few blocks away from my next destination.
33
Disgrace of the Order of the Morta
Noble
RAAAAA!” Noble growled, a guttural sound that came from deep in his chest.
He was chained to a stone prison wall by his wrists and ankles, panting and snarling through his teeth. With his body strung up in anX, he couldn’t move more than a few inches, but that didn’t stop him from thrashing against his constraints. His skin was rubbed raw from the iron cuffs, black blood weeping down his forearms, pooling under his feet. But the monstrous instinct inside him was stronger than the stinging pain of open wounds.
It wanted freedom. It wanted flesh.
Adepts of the Order of the Arcane crowded in his cell, staring at him with various shades of cold curiosity and disgust. New faces had joined them: a knight of some sort, a squire of the Lord, and a man wearing the shimmery brown and gold robes of a ledgermaster. Noble hadn’t seen them down here before. It was clear in all their expressions that he was not a man to them, but an experiment—an abomination.
Noble snarled, the sound rumbling through the dungeon. It was met by similar growls and cries in the depthless black beyond the bars of his cell. He hated the monster inside him, hated what it had done tohis mind and body. The antlers threatening to push through the skin in his temples, the claws forming at his fingertips, the way his saliva tasted like acid—venom. When he took the Oath of the Order of the Morta, Noble had been promised inhuman strength; he’d thought that this opportunity would bring him glory.
Maybe even make his father proud.
