Page 2 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

ARLET

Present Day, or one year after the first meeting with the Elf King

“ A rlet, you need to get ready, or you’ll be late,” Feli calls from behind one of the stone desks.She’s the tall, lithe enduar woman with dark blue hair who has been helping me establish the school.

“Maestra Feli, you are distracting the children!” I tut.

She makes a clicking sound with her purple tongue, shakes her head, and goes back to organizing charcoal writing rods on the other side of the large classroom. The space is filled with stone desks, spell lights, and drawings of fungi, historical figures, and common words in both the enduar and human tongues.

I take a deep breath, and go back to reading a scroll on the second dynasty of the troll bronze age. The spot between my shoulder blades itches as my mind wanders to review the mental list of things I have to get done before leaving.

Add two scrolls to my reading roster, check.

Help Feli correct the sentences the first years wrote, half check.

Visit Fira in the weaving cavern to help her with a banner for the Mating Journey, not check.

I let out a soft groan into my hands. I have too much to do.

My ascension ceremony is tonight, and I am actively trying to ignore it. After a year of dedicated service in the face of rapid population growth, Queen Estela and King Teo had chosen me to receive an official title in their court.

Not for weaving, as Fira still held that title, but for teaching. I’m meant to oversee the development of a project I’d taken to calling The Lorepath—or a structured system for teaching a robust mix of culture, basic skills, language, and practical knowledge between the humans and enduares.

The project is exciting. The work is agonizingly frustrating at times, and brilliantly fulfilling at others. But did I feel that I had earned a title for simply doing what was necessary? Eh.

There is to be another festival in a few days anyway, the Mating Journey—which would help even more couples find their other half. We’d all been working on that, in between the tempest of every day life.

Wasn’t enough enough ? Why did we need to do this for me?

Around me, the children scoop up fingerfuls of glittering paint, smearing it over their canvases in a chaotic, joyful mess. The sight makes my heart swell with pride. Enough that I drop my scroll yet again, letting it fall into the chaos of my already overburdened desk, and brace my forearms against the stone.

The last year of my life has felt like a decade. First, I arrived in this city and threw myself into the complicated task of assimilating into a new culture just as war broke out between the enduares and giants. I took up a position as a weaver, and spent three months making enough fabric to cover the ruins of Zlosa, the old giant capital.

And then, nearly six months later, after two devastating battles, the Giant Kingdom fell, and thousands of humans were finally free. Most of them chose to relocate here, under the mountain, rather than have to build up a new life from nothing.

It was pure chaos for a while, but we have managed well.

Through it all, I clung to my work and let it provide order in a time of turmoil. I split my time between weaving and teaching. Each day, that decision is put to the test.

But it is better to be busy than in pain .

Especially because the outside world remains a dangerous place. One foe defeated tended to make three more rear their ugly heads, and most of our days are spent preparing for an inevitable conflict with the elves.

But war belongs to the soldiers. To the sovereigns. I belong here, either in the schoolhouse halls and behind my loom, shaping beauty where I am needed. I’d only accepted Teo and Estela’s request because they assured me that my new position on the council would not suddenly make me a cog in a political machine.

My dreams of the humans changing the world would not only come because of bloodshed. I needed to speak a new language, one learned in peace, if my work was going to have the impact I hoped for.

And my one harrowing night with the elf king had shown me that my favorite place to be was not squabbling with foreign officials, but among friends, and with children. They need me as much as I need them.

“Maestra Arlet,” one of the girls calls up to me.

I crouch beside her desk. “Yes, mi amor? ”

She beams. “My mamá said there’s going to be a party for you tonight. Is that true?”

Feli calls out from the back. “That’s right, Sarita! And Arlet should leave soon to get ready.”

I glance at Feli and correct her. “Soon.”

“Now!” the head teacher insists with a laugh. “Ilkari!” she calls, using the enduar word for children. “Help me encourage Maestra Arlet!”

She starts tapping a beat against the desk, and the others eagerly join in. I smile at her simple song. She works with the crystal singers when she isn’t here, teaching reading, writing, and numbers.

“Go now, Lady Arlet! Go now, Lady Arlet!” the children chant.

Laughing, I raise my hands in surrender, touched, despite the use of a title I hadn’t officially earned. “Fine! I will leave.”

As I turn to leave, a small hand tugs at my skirt. I look down to see Miti, one of the cave-born enduar children, surrounded by a group of human boys and girls .

She struggles to meet others’ eyes, preferring to draw her thoughts rather than speak them.

I crouch, and she slides a piece of paper toward me.

I lift it carefully and take in the image she has drawn. In flowing lines, she’s drawn me standing before the king and queen, receiving a delicate coronet reserved for members of the court. My bright red hair is twisted atop my head, and a green dress cascades down the palace steps.

Though I had planned to wear purple to my ascension ceremony, Miti’s drawing reminds me of another gown hung in the corner of my closet.

“This is beautiful! Look at that. A green gown,” I muse.

The corner of her mouth twists.

“Do you like this gown?” I reach out, palm up, and she slips her slight hand into mine.

It takes a moment, but she nods. My heart squeezes. I am absolutely wearing this dress instead.

“May I keep this?” I ask softly.

She nods again, her smile falling and her gaze moving to my desk in the corner covered with scrolls. Lesson plans that seemed to take up more time than there were hours in a day.

“I hope to see you tonight, at the party,” I whisper. “And don’t worry. I won’t stop coming here to spend time with you, it just won’t be every day anymore.”

She smiles again—just a little—and then, with deliberate hesitation, raises her face toward mine. Her gaze hovers near my cheek, not quite meeting my eyes, before she suddenly leans in, wrapping her arms around my neck.

I hold her close, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I’ll be back tomorrow. And maybe I’ll bring you a gift.”

Her arms tighten. It takes a moment before I can gently pry myself away, lifting her hands to my cheek in a show of affection before brushing out of the room.

My eyes burn as I glance at her drawing once more. Then, with a deep breath, I tuck it into my pocket and hurry out of the school.

Having a massive city in a series of enormous caves was a feat that only the enduares could do well. Parts that were blocked off or destroyed had been slowly rebuilt. Among the many changes the city has experienced, one of them is a new housing section for members of the royal court.

My new home has been carved alongside the palace, nestled in the newly rebuilt district with elegant dwellings reserved for council members and their families.

Lady Arlet.

I grimace. Today, I ascend, formally appointed as leader of education—both here in the caves and the human settlement above.

Lady Arlet , I repeat.

I just… don’t want people to look at me differently. It would be agonizing to watch friends turn into formal acquaintances just because I wasn’t just Arlet anymore. My desire was to be approachable.

Twisting my hands, I savor the feel of the stone silk I wove and listen to a city now-bustling with people.

Lady Arlet, I say one last time.

I never imagined this future. But, above all, I am grateful for this new life under the mountain even if it has not ended up the way I would’ve hoped—mated with children. But if I cannot find a mated husband, I can still nurture. Work. I can still create.

And for the gaps my duties cannot fill… well, I have recently discovered the romance section in the royal library.

As I step outside the school, a familiar figure leans casually against the archway. Lord Vann, Advisor to the King, unofficial leader of our military, and royal pain in my ass. His silver braid gleams under the cavern’s light as he smirks, arms crossed over his broad chest.

“You do know your ascension is today, right?” he says. “It’s tradition for the newly ascended to receive a ceremonial token from a court member.”

“And I suppose that is meant to be you?” I say.

His grin sharpens. “I’ve been waiting a quarter hour. You’re going to be late to your ceremony.”

I glare. “Not yet. ”

Forcing myself to meet his gaze, I notice the tear in his sleeve and the smudges on his knuckles and chin. He looks tired—probably from staying up late inventing new ways to torment me.

The city clock tower strikes half-past noon. I do the calculations in my head.

“Mierda.”

When our eyes meet again, his smug smile is already in place.

“Well, then, spare me the formal gift and try not to make me more late,” I say, pushing past him.

“I thought you would appreciate a taste of our old traditions,” he continues.

I stop and turn back, narrowing my eyes. “That tradition was meant for stone bending apprentices completing their first cycle of mastery. Not for court ascensions.”

His eyebrows lift. “And how do you know that?”

“Because I’ve spent the last three months combing through the royal library all while running back and forth between the school and the weaving cave. Because I am ensuring that your culture isn’t reduced to half-remembered myths thrown around by smug warriors with nothing better to do.”

He lets out a laugh. “So those scrolls I’ve seen you carry around are good for something?”

“Try not to look so surprised,” I grumble, resuming my journey. “And if you wanted to give a gift, I’m told there will be time for that after the ceremony.”

“Like I said, this was meant to be before,” he calls after me.

I don’t stop walking.

He catches up to my side. I glance up to find his expression serious.

“Some advice, one council member to another, I know how uneasy you are in front of crowds.”

I let out a mangled huff. “I will be fine.”

“Well then. Just try not to trip in your fancy gown, Firelocks.”

“I’ll manage,” I say and pick up my pace.

Even I have to admit the ascension celebration is breathtaking.

The Enduar Palace once served as the summer home to enduar kings and queens of old. Golden in appearance, it is the only building in all of Enduvida made from the same strong metal as the signature armor the soldiers wear.

Enduar metal is strong, and it combines beautifully with the bluish gray of the cavern. I stare a while longer at the massive building, its golden facade gleaming under the shifting crystal light.

Towering statues of past enduares still stand, each with names carved underneath. The grand steps leading to the entrance are wide, easily spanning fifteen paces across, split into two tiers. They were made to create a deliberate divide—a physical reminder of the difference between ruler and subject. Now, they serve as the pathway I must ascend.

I don’t want to be seen as above the others. I just want to help.

At the top of the grand steps, Estela stands resplendent in a golden gown. She is a short woman, almost a full head shorter than me, and has thick, dark brown curly hair that perfectly compliments her magically glowing light brown skin.

Teo is at her side in simple black garb that highlights his paler blue complexion and light silver hair. He’s massive next to her, something I might consider threatening if he wasn’t the most adoring mate I’ve ever met.

Behind them is the official spiritual leader of our people, Mother Liana. An old enduar woman with pure, white hair, and kind eyes. She’s never looked like anything other than a benevolent goddess, one who has spent her eternities choosing to cultivate empathy over wrath. Tonight, she is dressed in a flowing black gown with hand-stitched swirling patterns of quartz.

I bite my lip, wondering if later, she’ll finally share where she had gotten her elaborate dresses from.

Teo’s and Estela’s crowns glimmer in the shifting glow as the stone singers weave their voices through the third verse of my favorite song, Velra’Endu . A love ballad.

Though it holds no political significance, it is my day, and they sing what I choose.

I sit at the bottom of the palace steps, among the council members, looking up at the sovereigns. To my left, Lord Lothar—still alive and well, and raising a few orphaned children with his new mate—watches the proceedings with quiet approval. To my right, Lady Fira, the master of the weavers, offers me a warm smile. Beyond them, the other council members greet me with nods and hushed congratulations.

Behind us is a grand audience filled with anyone in the city who wished to attend. There are… a lot of people—more than I expected. My students and fellow weavers, the hunters who catch our food, the stone benders who craft and fix our tools and city. I try not to look back for fear of growing light-headed.

Teo steps forward, and the crowd goes quiet. The music shifts to a quiet hum that plays along the crystals.

The music tugs at the nerves inside of me, gently soothing them so that I can breathe. Songs that were sung into the crystals couldn’t put emotions in one’s soul that weren’t already there, but they did a good job at bending and shaping feelings to suit any required tone.

Calm is just what I need right now.

“Good evening, friends!Before the people of Enduvida, we present Lady Arlet, who has shown great devotion to our people. Today, she takes her place among the council. Lady Arlet of the humans, approach!” he commands.

Teo, Estela, and Mother Liana look down at me from the top of the grand steps, the dais bathed in the shifting glow of crystal light. The columns stretch high above, carved with the familiar, geometric symbols of the enduares. The low hum of the stone singers blends with the hush of the gathered crowd.

I force myself to stand, despite the tremor in my legs. When I turn, the sheer size of the audience makes my breath hitch. Nobles, warriors, scholars—everywhere I look, eyes are on me.

The grand steps seem more daunting than in a practical outfit, and there are only so many places the yards of green silk can fit. Unfortunately, my path leads me straight past Lord Vann.

He watches, arms crossed, expression unreadable in my few stolen glances. I don’t slow. But his words about not tripping echo in my head.

The steps are steeper than I expected. Or maybe it’s just my legs, stiff with nerves, struggling beneath the weight of my green gown. My breath tightens. The moment stretches on, each step loud in the vast hall.

At last, I reach the dais and step before my king and queen.

I lower into a curtsy, the sleek fabric of my dress pooling around me. My heart pounds against my ribs.

And then, I stand. Relief floods my chest. I made it.

Estela gestures to Liana, who steps forward. She carries a silver circlet, polished to a gleam.

“Lady Arlet,” Liana calls out with a smile. “You have built a foundation of learning within the caves and beyond. You have given the people your wisdom, hands, and heart. As such, you have been called to toil longer, but now, as a lady in this blossoming court. Your sovereigns ask you to help bring our peoples together in a new age.”

A dull roar sounds in my ears as the Wise Woman raises the circlet.

“Do you accept this duty?”

My heart beats once. Then twice.

Work is good. Work is grounding. I will give everything I’ve got to make the future brighter, despite my dislike of the title.

“I do.”

She places the circlet on my brow, and the moment it settles, a gentle pulse of energy ripples through me, as if the mountain itself acknowledges the oath I have taken.

“Then turn, Lady Arlet, our Keeper of Learning,” Liana proclaims.

Applause rises in a wave, filling the great hall with warmth. I lift my chin, taking it all in.

Lady Arlet.

The title rests on my shoulders firmly. There is something nice about it. It doesn’t feel as bad as I would’ve thought.

Vann catches my eye and I realize he looks much different than he did earlier today. Hair combed. Fine tunic. My stomach clenches, almost anticipating his disapproval .

He holds my stare, and then slowly, he smiles.

For some reason, this is my day, and yet, I can’t help but think of a thousand memories involving him. A year of goading and teasing and rivalries. But we would be on the council together. Not quite working together, but there would be meetings. And parties. And… well. He is Teo’s closest friend, as I am Estela’s.

Someone would have to make the first move in bridging the gap between us.

I dip my head toward him as he stares up at me.

And then… slowly. He dips his head back.

A smile pulls at my lips. I look away, feeling triumphant as the music starts again.

Just as I hold my hand up to wave to the people, I catch sight of the group of children making their way up the steps.

Miti stands at the front, pointing at my green dress in smiling. I grab the skirt and give it a small flourish. She squeals in delight.

The singers invite the children to join their song as the council members stand, bringing gifts to a table stationed at the bottom of the steps. My smile widens when Lady Fira stands, holding a new bolt of cloth.

She had been the woman who took me in as an apprentice upon my arrival. I missed seeing her every day, but I would be glad for the time we would spend on the council.

More people come up, leaving their trinkets as I watch, bowing my head from above, and grinning from ear to ear.

“Thank you all,” I call out as loud as I can.

As the line begins to dwindle, Estela reaches out to touch my arm.

“Felicidades, querida,” she says. I laugh and turn around to hug her. She pushes onto her toes and presses a kiss to both of my cheeks.

“I hate to ruin the joviality, but sadly, we must have a meeting directly following the feast,” she murmurs in my ear.

My heart squeezes. Something about her tone feels ominous. Rallying my efforts, I turn back to the crowd and listen to the rest of the song.

Worry was for later.