Page 19 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

VANN

W e trek south from Enduvida, and the cold gnaws at my bones. Our path makes us stay close to the mountain ranges’ base and walk through terrain that rolls in a jagged rhythm, sharp-backed hills rising over winding ravines. It’s as though nature itself could not decide between ascent and descent.

It might have been wise to take a more direct path, but we cannot be caught by King Arion’s patrols as we draw closer to the elven lands. The threat of him has been far from my mind lately, but a distant threat was still dangerous.

I’m sure he would just love to find Arlet out here. It’s my job to ensure she doesn’t have to go anywhere near the egotistical knave.

Wind blows over me, carrying flecks of ice that sting against my exposed skin.

But it’s nothing compared to the sensory memory that burns in my chest from when I’d tackled her. I remember her small frame trapped between my thighs. Her hips pressing against my stomach, her breath warm against my ribs as she squirmed beneath me. Strands of red hair splayed across the ice, vivid against the frozen white like spilled embered silk.

A full day later, and the effect Arlet had on my body still lingers like a phantom touch that refuses to fade, though now we walk shoulder to elbow. The memory remains in every taut muscle, in my sensitive skin.

“Vann,” Arlet grumbles.

The name is mine, but I’ve almost forgotten how to use it.

After waking up alone in Liana’s home, I worried Arlet had escaped and tragedy would strike again. But then I found a note scribbled on the door in glittering, magical letters.

She’s left Enduvida to find a cure.

Beneath it was another pack, with my cleaver lying atop.

The hand of Endu tapped my shoulder, reminding me that I owed her my life for the time she’d cared for me. I do not take debts lightly.

Even though I’d grabbed the things, I had run out of the city with the hope of bringing her back, but her explanation for leaving touched me. She was right—if she was out of options in the city, she needed to seek elsewhere.

It was not an easy choice for me to make, as it meant leaving the others to pick up my duties. But it wasn’t as if I’d planned this. It simply happened because I owed her.

The woman standing at my side is not a small consolation, though. It was uncomfortable to admit, but I liked being alone with her.

I tighten my fists and recall how it felt to have of her hand trapped in my grip and pinned near her head. The image flickers behind my eyes.

She’s beautiful. I’ve always known that. But now, alone in the wilderness with her, I am confronted with it in ways that are difficult to ignore.

When I glance down, she swallows hard. That throat—gods.

“All right, I will talk, then. You listen. The plan is to find the Sisterhood’s Enclave, get information about the brujas , and then go find them, yes?” Arlet breaks the silence, discussing the plan we had made the night before.

A grunt escapes me, and I shove the thoughts away to the sound of snow crunching beneath my boots. But then she stops walking, and I let out a low groan before turning to face her. My vision shifts, and momentarily, I see her sprawled on the ice again—vulnerable, enticing.

“Yes, that is what we agreed upon,” I respond, irritation bleeding into my voice as I haul myself over a large chunk of rock. Then I feel bad, knowing that it comes from my own traitorous thoughts and not her. Before the night the curse killed Diego, we were starting to be friends.

I promised I would be better.

“I’m afraid I might not be the most pleasant to travel with,” I say. “I slip into an intense focus while hiking, which makes me quiet. It is not easy for me to strike up a meaningful conversation.”

Arlet crests the same rock, and then puts her hands on her hips.

“That is good to know,” she says. “I… like reassurance. Sometimes it makes me irksome, I think.”

I soften. “Just remember that the terrain will not ease, and we are still many days from the Sisterhood’s Enclave. I will try to manage my tone.”

She glances at the rugged rocks scattered between trees, uncertainty flickering across her face.

“I like… reassurance,” she had said.

I bite my lip. Very well.

“Arlet, you are doing very well. You move quickly for someone who isn’t used to this,” I thrust my hand toward her, waiting.

Her mouth parts, and she looks up at me with dilated pupils. She liked the compliment. Her fingers wrap around mine without hesitation—strong and sure despite their smallness. My chest tightens at the contact.

I feel as if I have won a prize. Learned a bit about her. I will remember this reaction.

“Are you sure it is a good idea for you to be here?” she says as she straightens, brushing ice from her clothes.

“Why? You don’t think you need me?”

She shakes her head. “Vann, I would love nothing more than a companion, but we can’t forget I killed someone.”

“I won’t sleep,” I grumble.

“That’s insanity. ”

“I’ll sleep lightly. We can keep you tied up.”

A shadow flickers across her face. “I—” She stops, her gaze flicking toward the rocky mountain path stretching endlessly ahead. Then, she exhales sharply. “Is there any hope I can persuade you to leave?”

I shake my head.

“All right, then,” she says, resigned. “I suppose we continue onward.”

I nod and gesture for her to lead the way. Sadly, my words run out and I decide silence is better. Silence is easier. Less torturous.

One of the hills slowly gives way to a brittle forest, skeletal branches draped in ice, the weight of winter heavy upon them. The cold intensifies under the shade. I wonder if the war had been this cold. If I had ever been this cold, despite the sweat sliding down my back.

The sun drags lower in the sky, painting the ice-tipped peaks in bleeding hues of gold and crimson.

We have walked for days, and for the first time, Arlet starts to huff. I can’t blame her, I too am struggling against the unforgiving landscape.

A labored, rattling sound escapes her lips. I glance at her, watching the effort etched into her face. When she catches me looking, I turn away.

We keep hiking, but the sound Arlet makes returns—a soft, pained noise. I glance again.

She grits her teeth, her gaze snapping up to mine. “My moderate training sessions didn’t account for climbing mountains and crossing frozen ravines. Mind yourself—I will keep up.”

“I just want to make sure you are all right,” I say.

She pauses. Then, she smiles. It’s small, but it catches me off guard. Something shifts inside me, unfamiliar and unwanted.

And when she stops walking, leaning against one of the evergreen trees on the side of the hill, gulping down air like she’s drowning, I know I can’t ignore it.

I pull out a animal skin filled with water, take a swig, and then hold it toward her .

“Would you like to rest?”

She looks up at me, her brown eyes glistening, her cheeks flushed with effort, and she takes it.

“I swear I can do this,” she insists. “We haven’t even made it that far.”

“We have made it far enough. And you aren’t well, Firelocks. We should rest.”

She doesn’t respond.

Eventually, I turn away, and find a spot to think. What is Teo thinking right now, two days after my departure?

Out of the eighty years we have known each other, I have never done anything without ensuring it was all right with him. We’d been each other’s confidants for as long as I could remember. He knew everything about me.

And yet—I didn’t tell him I was leaving.

A deeper, more tragic realization settles in my chest, heavier than the cold.

I hadn’t said goodbye in Adra’s name.

I hadn’t lit her stone.

My shoulders curl forward, and for the first time, I wonder what the hell has come over me. I had rules. Order .

Arlet coughs again, and I turn back to the woman I’ve chosen to follow blindly away from my home. The horror of the situation dawns on me like the glow of her flushed skin.

I’ve chosen her over everything else that once mattered to me.

My mood, my plans, sink like a stone landing in sand—final, without ripple or recourse. I let out a long breath, draw myself up, and seal my lips together. Then, I move toward Arlet and wait.

She regains her composure and begins walking again. I don’t goad her.

I made a choice, and whether it was the wrong one no longer matters. I’ll send a message to Teo when we reach the elves.

I glance back at the trees. Carving Adra’s name into wood is unnecessary, but there are stones everywhere. I could use one of the knives in my pack.

Something in me eases. It will be like bringing her memory with me across the continent. She would love that—she always wanted to travel far from home. A quiet reverence settles over me. I can do this for her.

My eyes flick to the side as Arlet walks ahead. Something tugs at me, an unseen thread drawing me toward her.

No. I correct myself. It isn’t a pull.

She is vulnerable. Prone to dying. I don’t want something as innocent as her swallowed by the depths of this cruel world.

“You think so intensely, it’s almost as if I can hear the words cross the distance between us,” Arlet says.

I stop dead in my tracks. Hear thoughts? That’s something that belongs to mates.

We aren’t mates.

“You don’t know anything,” I snap.

“Dioses míos, I didn’t expect you to shift moods faster than a storm wind over the Enduar Peaks, yet here we are—grumbling and brooding once more.”

“We should rest,” I quip, still a bit raw after thinking of Adra.

That does the trick to silence her, but now I berate myself for my actions. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I am mercurial. She doesn’t know how to treat me because I’ve never given her a clear indication.

I went to that cursed festival for her. I brought her into my space the night before and then cast her out. We were there for each other when we suffered.

I all but kissed her in the salt room.

I close my eyes. The more I think about this, the more I’ll convince myself of things that do not matter. I need to let go. Let the past be what it is instead of begging for more.

Deep breaths.

In and out.

We will make it through this journey, and we will go home. If Liana believes the Mrath and her elves will have the answers, then they will. I just need to trust the path the god of stone has laid before my steps.

The first night alone together is quiet. Once the camp is set up, the fire lit, and the food roasting, I finally look at Arlet.

She sits perched on a flat rock near the flames, her hands resting lightly on her lap. The flickering glow highlights the soft angles of her face, the warmth of the flames chasing away the last traces of the day’s chill.

Earlier, I had taken down a wolf—a clean kill. Arlet hadn’t flinched at the sight of the body or its blood when I dragged it back to camp. Instead, she had wordlessly helped me gather the right branches, lashing them together with a practiced efficiency to create a sturdy tripod over the fire.

Now, the rich scent of roasting meat curls into the air, mingling with the crackle of burning wood and the distant sounds of the chilly forest settling into night.

Tomorrow, we should be out of the snowy areas. The white blanket has already started to grow more patchy.

I shift my weight, stretching out a hand toward the warmth. “You’ve done this before,” I say, not really a question.

Arlet tilts her head, a small, knowing smile flickering across her lips. “I used to help Estela cook. In our section of the slave pens, our foreman let us forage and hunt for meager rations.”

I hum. “It is a good skill. During the war, I spent a lot of time in the over world,” my hand gestures around me, “and I picked up a few tricks as well. Life under the sun is no enchanted haven, but neither is it a cursed wasteland.”

She stands, and grabs a stick to help her turn to food. Her head turns to the side and says, “I’m sure you’ve seen more of the world that I will ever.”

“Most of what I have seen is the battlefield.” I furrow my brow. “I remember pausing to take in a sight or two while marching, and, believe it or not, I like trees, but my memories from those days are soaked in red. By the end of this journey, I may be a new man.”

She lets out a bright laugh which cuts off. “Wait, how long do you think it will take to heal me?”

Arlet goes rigid, shifting away from the food, and she pulls on her fingers, nervously .

“I can’t give you a specific time, I only know I will be with you.”

She relaxes a little, soothed by the words, much to my delight, then turns to finish the cooking. Once it’s done, she fishes a knife and dish from her pack, then exclaims when she finds a second plate.

“Mother Liana…” she mutters. Then she cuts and arranges part of the meat.

“Here you are,” she says, handing me one. “The rest of the meat can be smoked, I think.”

“Yes. I will tend to that as soon as I’m finished. Thank you, Firelocks,” I say, digging in. Hunger was not new to me, but I forget the ravenous way my belly can get after walking long distances.

Arlet returns to her stone and sits. She moves the meat a little, picking up one piece before letting it fall.

“You’re not eating,” I observe, keeping my tone neutral.

She looks up, fighting. “I’m not hungry.”

I snort. “How? We have walked a long way. You must eat to keep up your energy.”

Her lips part, but no retort comes. Instead, she lowers her gaze to the ground, putting her plate on her knee, and using her stick to trace patterns in the snow idly. The way she avoids my eyes sets my teeth on edge.

I see her lying on the table, screaming and begging for me to loosen the ropes. She is terrified of herself.

“You can’t keep running on nothing, Arlet,” I say, the words coming out sharper than I intend. “You’ll collapse before we even reach the enclave.”

“I’ll be fine,” she mutters.

“No, you won’t,” I counter, leaning forward. The firelight casts shadows across her face, accentuating the tension in her jaw. “You’re pushing yourself too hard, and for what?”

Her eyes snap to mine, burning with a sudden intensity that makes me sit back. “I want this curse gone. I want to go back home .”

I stiffen at the word home. It’s possessive, agonized, filled with longing. I remember feeling like that during long stretches in the over world during the war.

We both stand, and I tower over her .

“Are you angry at me?”

She bites her lip, cheeks red.

“Yes.”

“Then tell me why,” I push.

She shakes her head.

“I don’t want to.”

I grab her wrist. “If you live your life skirting around the feelings of others, resentment will build in you. I know. Tell me why I’ve made you angry. Don’t just take jabs at me.”

Hot breath pours from her lungs. She swallows, but doesn’t answer.

“Someone used your body to do awful things. They took away your power. Is that part of what angers you?

Tears line her eyes.

“Let the anger out, Arlet. Yell at me. Scream. Slap me. Do it, and then speak plainly,” I push her.

Her mouth wobbles. “I?—”

“You can. You can do anything—I’ve seen it. So stop hiding,” I insist.

A tear slides down her face.

“Why, exactly, are you mad at me?” I demand, stepping even closer.

“Because you followed me . You’re the king’s advisor. You help oversee everyone—the soldiers, the builders, the cooks, the hunters, the benders. You are so used to having some level of control over every situation. But you don’t control this, Vann. Someone wants to hurt me and used my body to kill another. I slaughtered Diego. I?—”

She goes silent.

Another moment passes, and I wait for her to continue. When she doesn’t, I say, “I’m not so foolhardy that I believe an iron fist alone will manage the darkness that lurks in you. I want to help you.”

Her laughter is bitter, humorless. “I know you plan to tie me up again. It’s not good enough—what if you doze off and I gnaw through the ropes like some rogue monster?”

“Remember, you aren’t a monster.” Then I frown. “And I thought you agreed it would be wise for you to be bound? ”

“I said nothing!” she shoots back, her voice cracking.

The tension between us coils tighter, and for a moment, the only sound is the crackle of the fire. Her gaze drops again, and she hugs her arms, curling into herself like she’s trying to disappear.

“Why does being tied up bother you so much?” I ask quietly. The scroll in her room spoke of such things with pleasure. I can’t make out how this is different.

Her shoulders tense, and I know I’ve hit a nerve. She doesn’t answer right away, and I’m not sure she will. But then, so softly I almost miss it, she says, “It’s nothing.”

“This again? If we are to be both travel companions and friends, then I think it is best we speak honestly.”

She looks up at me then, and there is something raw in her expression, something that makes my heart stumble. “Surely you have scars that you don’t show anyone.”

The statement catches me off guard. Of course I did. Sometimes… the way she challenges me makes me feel things I thought I had buried with Adra.

But I can’t say any of that. I don’t even want to admit it to myself. In the last two weeks, things have changed. Accelerated.

So, instead, I shrug and say, “Of course. But if they applied to a mission, I would disclose them. As it is my duty.”

Her mouth falls open, and for a second, I think she might tell me. Then, to my surprise, she laughs—a real, genuine laugh that makes the corners of her eyes crinkle.

“You’re an ass,” she says, shaking her head.

“Maybe,” I admit. “But I’m not wrong.”

She sighs, the laughter fading but leaving a hint of warmth in her eyes. “I don’t want to tell you yet. But I’ll eat.”

“You don’t know how happy that makes me,” I murmur.

As she picks up the plate, and I let the silence settle between us again. This time, it feels less empty, more... companionable. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, noting the way the firelight softens the angles of her face.

Later, when the fire has burned low and she yawns, stretching her long neck, I clear my throat.

“How about a deal?”

She raises one red eyebrow. “Go on.”

“I won’t tie you up if you tell me why it causes you such panic,” I drawl.

She stiffens. “Not yet.”

I sigh. “Then we will proceed out of safety.”

She scrambles to her feet, stepping back, but she’s too slow. I catch her wrist, careful not to grip too hard, but firm enough that she knows I won’t back down.

“Vann,” she whispers, her voice shaking.

I hesitate for only a breath. “Just tell me and I will bind you with nothing more than my arms.”

She bites her lip, her entire frame trembling, but she says nothing. Not a single word.

I exhale through my nose, and my decision is made. Gently, I pull her toward the nearest tree. She resists, but there’s no real strength behind it.

Then I leave her there, waiting, as I gather supplies. I take my time, setting up a stone at the base of the trunk and covering it with her sleeping mat, so that she might sit. Next, I tie the rope around her wrists and position her back against the tree. Once she is comfortable, I secure her torso to the sturdy trunk.

The moment retreat, she lowers her head, her shoulders trembling. A choked sound escapes her, and my stomach twists.

She’s crying.

Damn it.

I kneel beside her, wiping the tears so they don’t freeze on her cheeks.

“Arlet, please don’t weep.” I cup behind her neck. “I don’t want to be cruel.”

“It is all right, Vann. I know this is all we have to keep you safe.”

I step back, mind churning over the conflict in her.

“I’ll start smoking the meat and then I will keep watch,” I murmur. “Get some rest and try not to…”

I trail off, not wanting to be crueler than I already have been.I grab a few more blankets, covering her face, legs, and hair. Everything should be insulated enough not to melt the snow around her.

Once I’m finished, she doesn’t speak, and instead turns her face into the coverings.

I sit beside the fire, knife in hand as I begin to cut strips of meat.

After a few hours, I hear her snore softly.

Then I retrieved a rock, and begin carving my Adra’s name, all the while, thinking of Arlet.