Page 12 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

ARLET

W hen I wake, I am not surrounded by a large, shirtless blue enduar, but by the gentle press of my handmade blankets.

I am glad to be here, in my bed, not some other strange place, with my memory fully intact. And what a memory it was.

I roll over and sigh, thinking about meeting Vann in the salt room last night. Vann was an ass to start, but then he turned so kind… it was almost a dream.

Wiping my eyes, I let out a long breath.

This is one of those mornings where the weight of the day’s tasks pulls me from slumber easily, but actually making it out of bed—leaving the warm, familiar mold of my mattress—is a different battle entirely.

Then the hour strikes six, and one by one, the spell-lights bob to life above my head. The room is bathed in warmth.

Today is the Mating Journey.

Today I might actually meet someone.

That single, dangerous flicker of hope sends my thoughts spinning, weaving visions too beautiful to bear—a mating ceremony beneath a lush, golden canopy, the sound of crashing waves mixing with the scent of salty pine. A home, a loom by the window, the echo of a child’s laughter chasing their sibling too close to the hearth. A man’s deep chuckle, and music winding through the air.

It’s the kind of dream that hurts. Some things are so beautiful that they only serve as a reminder of what is missing. Like the ache left behind after a song ends or the scent of smoke clinging to an empty fire pit.

I rip myself from the tangled threads of the thought before they can weave more pain.

Maybe nothing will happen.

I throw back the blanket and plant my bare feet on the cold, flat rug Fira had gifted me. Another deep breath, and I’m on my feet, reaching past my scrolls for the gilded hairbrush and the collection of crystals by my bedside.

I tap each one, tracing their meanings in my mind. Amethyst—for deep sleep. Yellow Jasper—for creativity. Jade—for… hope. Jade has always been my favorite.

I have no magic, but I can feel the stones as well as any enduar thanks to my Fuegorra. This one… this one makes me feel whole. Like it holds some unseen vein of warmth, something eager to absorb the ache inside me.

I pick it up, squeezing it tightly in my palm, trying to patch up the hole in my heart. By the time I reach my polished metal mirror, I set it down, feeling lighter until I see my reflection and remember finding myself in the nightgown.

A shudder crawls up my spine.

It’s over now, Arlet. And anyone who knows is worried about you—not what you could have done. You are all right.

Still, many of the sweet feelings inside of me evaporate. I tear my fingers through my hair, undoing the silly plaits I’d woven before bed. Women with a male mate almost never braid or unbraid their own hair. It’s a sacred task, meant for their partner.

But when he’d helped me write in my scroll, I’d been so at ease.

I want to be his friend.

My cheeks heat. Just be his friend?

When he’d grabbed my wrist, a thrill shot through me. How long had it been since I felt that ? Vann wasn’t someone I’d considered a romantic option in the past, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t miss closeness.

I brush my hair into a tight, neat bun, my hands moving on their own, letting my mind wander far from babies and mates and the king’s advisor.

In my closet hangs the loose, stylish gown in red with orange beads I’d pulled out the night before. Beneath it are soft slippers, with a few jewels set on the table near the soiled clothes bin.

First, I start with powdered cosmetics to dust over my skin, covering the speckles on my nose, cheeks, forehead, chin, and shoulders. Then I pull on the gown, tying it to compliment my figure. Layer by layer, I build myself back up.

But a shadow lingers in the corners of my mind. I can’t help it—I’m a worrier.

After heading downstairs, I grab the Mating Journey scroll from the desk near my door and step outside, feeling the cool air against my flushed skin. A part of me expects Vann to appear with a big smile like the one he’d worn last night.

There is no one waiting outside and I tuck a loose curl behind my hair.

No matter. We’re all busy.

He said he might go to the Mating Journey as well. Maybe I’ll see him there, though definitely out of duty. He doesn’t want anyone. He’d said so himself.

Gripping the scroll tighter, I walk down the path between the houses in the council district. The path widens as I pass the palace, heading over a bridge that will take me to the area of Enduvida where the forges are.

Near the forges, there are a series of tunnels. The third leads down to where the mating ceremony is to take place. Hand woven and painted banners are hung up, and crystals decorate the entrance.

Several groups of people have already arrived, many coming from the residential district inside of the massive cavern, and several others heading down from tunnel six, which leads to the outdoor settlement.

Most people walk in Enduvida, but there are a few glacialmaras —long, floating serpent-like creatures with razor sharp tails and eyeless faces that enduares use as mounts. Some humans like to call them ‘crystal wraiths.’

I’ve never ridden one. Flying seems like it would paralyze me, even from a safe distance above the ground.

As I approach the crowd, my heartbeat picks up. This section of the cavern is alive, the energy light, humming, full of anticipation. There are no children nearby, just adults. My eyes go wide—so many of them I’ve only glimpsed in passing, but there are enough strangers I’ve never even seen.

Some live in Enduvida, some have come from the settlement above.

That bitch called hope pops up in the back of my mind. Maybe this won’t be awful.

Lady Ulla, the main healer in Enduvida, pops out of a cluster of humans.

“Arlet!” she calls.

I grin, looking at her fitted, silver dress. Her silky, straight hair is fanned and tucked at the nape of her neck. As soon as she’s close enough, she holds out her hand to take mine.

“No one was spared attending, I see,” she says with a laugh.

“Well, Estela made it clear what my duty was,” I say.

She takes in my dress. “This is amazing. You’re going to float through the festival with a gown as comfortable as that. I should’ve considered that before…” she gestures to her tight bodice.

I grin. “With any luck, you won’t have to stay all day.”

She laughs a little. “Well, I am not anticipating a mate. But I have never done this in the past, so who knows.”

Before I can respond, she gestures back to the tunnel.

“Shall we?”

“We shall.” My heart is pounding harder than before as we descend through the tunnel.

It takes a while to get to the bottom, but when we arrive, we are let out into another vast, open cavern. The sheer energy of the place grips me.

Incense curls through the air, thick and heady, mingling with the faint bite of minerals from the stone. The glow of glittering crystals refracts against jewel-toned fabrics stretched across the sea of tents. Their colors are vivid under the combination of crystals and spherical spell lights. Mats and banners are laid out and hung up, their designs woven by careful hands—some of them are mine.

The sight of them makes a quiet warmth settle in my chest. A mark of the work I did in the past, before I became a part of the council and spent more time with the children than my weaving.

Laughter rises, chaotic and electric, filling every empty space as people flit between the tents, moving in waves through the festival grounds. There is no hush, no hesitation—just joy.

But beyond the heart of the festival, my gaze catches on the roped-off section. That’s the place where we will gather waiting for the Mating Journey to begin.

A pressure curls around my ribs.

I inhale sharply, nearly dizzy from the sheer life of it all. But I cannot ignore the insecurity sitting in my chest. The joy starts to turn shrill, and I feel uncomfortable.

Am I getting sick? Gods damn.

Ulla’s assistant didn’t see anything wrong last night.

No matter how much I want this to feel real, I cannot change the fact that I feel wrong. I feel like I am being pulled back.

I paste a smile on my face when I see the royal throne, stationed at the front and flanked by the entire Teo and Estela. Mother Liana stands nearby, fussing over an ore-chime. It hangs from a sturdy wooden stand, and the long cylinder is forged from enduar goldstone, a rare dark metal streaked with veins of molten amber.

I’ve seen a few of these before. When struck, their luminous bands glow faintly.

My excitement mounts, and I say a quick goodbye to Ulla before pushing toward Estela and Teo.

Teo is dressed in a deep black stone silk ensemble that catches the cavern light with faint glimmers. His long coat, embroidered with silver filigree, drapes over his broad shoulders and extends down the front of his body, the design mimicking the flow of molten metal. His high collar is fastened with a clasp of dark quartz, and the only color on him comes from the crimson sash tied at his waist.

Estela stands beside her mate, her golden gown flowing like liquid light, the fine brocade woven with faint sigils of her two goddesses. The bodice is fitted, accentuating her form, before spilling into cascading layers. A chain of moonstones sits across her collarbones, luminous against her light brown skin, and her dark curls are swept into intricate braids, adorned with delicate golden charms.

Together, they are a contrast—midnight and sunlight—yet they undeniably make a whole.

As I approach, I realize the royal children are also here. Estela picks up her youngest son, Leo, and his small hands clutch the gems on the bodice of her gown.

"Arlet!" she calls, beaming as she pulls me into a side hug. The warmth of it seeps through me, erasing some of the gloomy shadows following me around.

"I'm so glad you've made it," she says, her eyes immediately landing on the scroll in my hands. A knowing look lights her face. "Are you ready?"

I nod slowly. "As ready as I can be.”

“Lirenne!” she calls over her shoulder. The enduar woman who organized the event comes forward. She’s much taller than Estela or I, and she wears a white gown that trails on the floor behind her. Her shoulders are exposed by thin straps, and only her ears have jewels. A large, white birthmark covers her left cheek, vivid next to her vibrant blue skin and grey hair.

“Yes, My Queen?” she says with a bow, her tail curling into a circle.

With her free hand, Estela touches my back and says, “Lady Arlet is ready for her assigned numbers.”

Lirenne dips her head, taking my scroll and using a bit of magic to write something in the top corner of my paper.

I take a moment to scan the crowd, looking, just for a moment, for Vann. I don’t see him or his familiar frown.

“There you are, Lady Arlet. We are so happy you are here,” she says. Then excuses herself .

Estela lets out an excited sound. “All right, have fun. I won’t be here the whole time because I’m told some couples get very scandalous, and I don’t want the boys around that.”

My cheeks heat. I know exactly what she meant.

“But, with any luck, tomorrow we shall have breakfast, and you will have good news.”

Before I can respond, my friend, the queen, ushers me forward, away from the throng, and toward the section where a group of men and women prepare to enter the tents. I take a deep breath, studying the signs outside each tent with a number written in geometric enduar script, and then open my scroll to reveal the suggested matches.

Enduar script is my third written language, behind the common tongue and my limited giantese. The human tongue exists only in speech—its written form lost to time, something I’ve been trying to restore in Lorepath.

I recognize the letters well enough, but the first is a little hard to make out.

"I'll be honest," a human woman in a long, red dress murmurs beside me. "Even if I don’t get a husband out of this, I’ll be happy if I just get fucked."

I look over as she smirks. Her dark hair is braided over one shoulder, and a thin golden cuff gleams against her upper arm, catching the flickering light.

Sharp eyes the color of aged amber, glint with amusement, and there's a confidence in how she carries herself—unhurried, self-assured, like she already knows the outcome of any game she plays.

I can’t relate, though I wish I could.

She catches my stare, then grins. The movement sends the jewels along her neckline shimmering under the spell-lit cavern, glinting like firelight.

"Lady Arlet, isn’t it?" she asks.

I am taken aback by the title. It’s still strange to hear it on a stranger’s lips. Dipping my head forward, I manage a small, "Yes."

She holds out her hand. "Dashia. I live in the settlement.”

"Lovely to meet you. "

Her smirk deepens. "Good luck today."

The room hushes as King Teo rises from his throne. His voice carries with effortless authority.

"Brothers and sisters, blood of the stone, life of the ocean, children of the over world—welcome." He pauses, sweeping his gaze over the gathered. "We have fought, we have bled, we have built, and now we must grow. Today, you will endeavor to meet each person in this room. At the end of the day, let us celebrate bonds—new and old, forged in fire and fate. Let this journey bring not only mates, but strength to our people. May your Fuegorras burn bright, and may your hearts sing true. At the sound of the tone, we shall begin.”