Page 3 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

VANN

T he queen arrives before the king and perches atop her throne. Estela smiles at everyone, her ethereal glow lighting the room. Blessed by the two goddesses, they say she shines like the swirling mass before the birth of a star.

Teo, my blood brother, sure thinks that's true.

Goddess-blessed or not, she brought mounds of trouble with her. While Teo would argue the conflicts were inevitable, I’m not so sure. We had been doing well enough—until the humans became part of our people.

In the end, my opinion on the matter of Estela and the humans was worth less than dust. She’s Teo’s mate, my queen, and the mother of the heir to the Enduar Kingdom. As personal advisor to Teo, my loyalty is to her.

I suppose, despite her trouble, she has earned my loyalty well enough.

Mother Liana, the Wise Woman and spiritual leader of Enduvida, stands at her right side, watching as the others trickle in.

The council chamber is hushed. Two elevated stone thrones, decorated with jewels, are the focal point of the room, but the large marble table is arranged at the bottom of the dais. Chairs have been placed around it, enough for all fifteen council members .

There are polished blue kyanite crystal clusters, cut from deeper caverns and positioned around the room, that cast long shadows across the stone walls.

Tonight, my ailment is relentless. My limbs are colder than usual, and the stillness of the air is pressing down on me like a blanket of snow.

I sit stiffly in my seat, arms crossed, watching as the others settle in while the post-ascension party rages outside.

I would’ve liked to attend, but I’ve been at Teo’s side, going over reports since Arlet’s ceremony.

The months after the war between the giants and ourselves have passed rapidly. With the giants gone, the elves have turned into the main enemy that threatens our borders.

Mrath, the sister of King Arion, leads an elven rebellion. She is our only ally, currently. Taking down the giant court would not have been possible without her and her assistance of two thousand troops. Part of our agreement was that we would help to get her the High Elven Throne when we were ready. The consensus is that we aren’t. Not until the new settlement is finished and we have a secure home for every new family.

As is to be expected, Mrath is impatient. A month ago, we sent a new letter to King Arion, trying to offer solutions that would smooth our relationship over, and ensure that no war breaks out while we are still teetering along like toddlers.

According to Teo something arrived from them today, and that’s why we are here.

“Welcome to your first council meeting, Lady Arlet,” the dual-blessed queen says brightly. “I’m sorry it’s not about a more pleasant topic.”

My eyes shift to the doorway—to the reason for the celebration. If I had a heart, it would have stopped at the sight of Arlet, undone from her pristine emerald-green ceremony attire.

Her shoes are gone, her hair half-falling from the bun atop her head. A rare sight indeed—a wild evolution of a usually well-trained creature .

The corners of her mouth quirk up, pride and nerves glimmering in her eyes.

She gives a small dip. “Happy to be here,” she responds.

Svanna, an enduar woman, grins. She is leader of the miners and training facilities for new warriors, but looking at her, I almost laugh. She wears simple clothes to such an important event—leather pants with a white tunic. When she begins to clap, her braid shifts to show off the two mating marks proudly glowing on her neck. The rest of the council follows.

My hands stay folded, fingers pressing into the fabric of my doublet. The weight in my limbs is spreading—a creeping numbness that starts in my fingertips and rolls up my arms like ice weaving through my veins.

“Iryth told me you still managed to dance with a hoard of men before slipping away,” Svanna teases Arlet.

“It’s true!” Thorne, the Elven Emissary, calls from the back. “I was even graced with a dance.”

Gods, he’s insufferable. Even being a half-human, he is every bit as irritating as any elf.

Arlet giggles, her cheeks tinged pink.

My mouth parts slightly, a familiar pressure forming in my chest—one I know isn’t truly there. But it spreads, dull and aching, like a phantom limb trying to remind me of something long lost.

“Where is Iryth now?” Arlet asks, ignoring Thorne’s flirtation as she scans the room for Svanna’s mate, another enduar woman. Her and Svanna are one of the oldest mated pairs in Enduvida.

“Home with Sama. She’s still spared from excessive meetings,” Svanna says, casting a mock glare at Queen Estela.

Estela grins, and more people take their seats. Arlet, however, remains standing in the center of the room.

“Forgive my ignorance, but I’m not sure where to sit,” she says, slipping her feet into her shoes and brushing a few wavy strands of ruby red from her face.

Ra’Salore smiles. He is the leader of a group of enduares with the ability to stone bend. Most of his days are spent tending to his new family and toiling in front of a forge, but he looks relaxed tonight. “There’s no order to this chaos. Perhaps you should sit next to Lord Vann.”

Her smile falters as she looks at me.

I hate bearing the brunt of her disappointment—it drudges up resentment. Most enduares accepted the humans with ease. I suppose it was their way.

But I grew up in a time when we hardly deigned to mix with our own allies.

Humans think they understand us, but they have no idea what it was like before, in the golden age of my people. The pride and glory of being enduar is dead. It will never be resurrected through books, renovations, or children’s lessons.

Arlet tries too hard. Gives too much. She isn’t ungrateful like the others, but she’s desperate to make everyone like her.

Everyone… except me.

It’s strange, given she once saved my life. A fact she doesn’t seem to consider often, though it constantly plays through my mind.

The numbness creeps further through my upper body. I flex my fingers beneath the black marble table, trying to force warmth back into my limbs.

My condition always works the same. It starts with something triggering an intense emotion of any kind—anger, fear, longing, desire, irritation. Muted versions of said feelings then echo in the space where my heart once was, and a slow, crushing cold ices my veins. If I’m not careful, it will eventually lock up my joints and make me immobile.

I take a deep breath and turn away as Arlet sits down. I don’t breathe in the scent of freshly washed cloth. Don’t notice the way her thighs press together as she crosses her legs.

Luckily for my sanity, the door to the throne room slams shut. King Teo and Lord Lothar stride in. Teo’s usual confidence is dampened by his tight grip on a thick stone slab, roughly the length of a knife.

Estela stands. “Well?” Her gaze drops to the object he carries. “What on earth is that? ”

He lifts the tablet, and I realize it’s been engraved.

My hands clench. The movement sends another ripple of cold through me, the edges of my vision tinged with frost.

“This is the missive from the elves,” he says sourly.

Svanna sits up. “The elves… engraved a stone slab to send a letter? Do they think we don’t know how to use paper?”

Thorne pipes up from the back. “Come now, you can’t tell me your kind never wrote on stone tablets.” He gestures broadly at the impressive stonework around us.

“Stone is impractical for records,” Svanna argues. “Not only for storage but because the longer the slab, the easier it is to break. The paper we craft from rock undergoes a fine milling process. It’s not unlike the paper your kind makes from wood.”

“Yes, and enduares have been using stone paper for nearly a thousand years,” Arlet interjects. “The insinuation is that enduar texts would be so primitive in our age is insulting.”

I roll my eyes, forgetting that Arlet has become an amateur historian since starting her project, Lorepath.

Ulla, the leader of the healers, smirks at the elf to her right. “Exactly right, Lady Arlet. Forgive Lord Thorne.”

“ Emissary , not lord ,” I grumble.

Thorne is Mrath’s right-hand. Even as an ally, I can’t help but think she’s a snake. No reason her old lover wouldn’t be one as well.

“Responding to our request for peace with an insult doesn't bode well for the situation,” Teo says, his voice clipped. He moves toward the throne, Lothar trailing behind to stand near the raised platform.

“The elves do nothing without careful calculation,” Teo continues. “I think this is meant to show just how weak they think we are.”

“From what you’ve explained,” Thorne nods in Arlet’s general direction, “I’m inclined to agree.”

Teo stares the tablet. He looks at it like a man tired of war. Tired of scraping and scrimping to survive.

He has two children now. I know he wishes to be with them over charging across the battlefield.

The newest council member sits forward. Arlet folds her hands gracefully in her lap, feigning complete sobriety, as if I hadn’t seen her drink three glasses of mead before I slipped away.

“Have we already begun studying its contents? I would appreciate knowing exactly what it says,” Queen Estela intones.

Teo passes the missive to Lothar, who has a better understanding of elvish. The enduar clears his throat, then begins to read.

"To the rulers of Enduvida, we have received your message. Frankly, we were surprised by your request to ease tensions. Your war with the giants, and your conquests with the humans, have disturbed the balance of the continent, and without a third party to regulate your power, we worry for the future of our world. As such, we have decided to take the responsibility of peace upon our shoulders and contest your growth."

I grind my teeth, but the rest of the room remains silent. Only the distant hum of machinery filtering air into the city and the riotous festivities outside fill the void.

Lothar continues. "There is but one way to avoid the destruction of your people at the hand of our troops. It is a simple solution—a symbolic offering to prove your sincerity. King Arion requests a human virgin to bear the elven heir. We do not require time to sort through the crop and ask for the flame-haired one called Arlet. If our request is met, a binding peace agreement will be brokered, and Enduvida will be spared a second war.”

“What?” I blurt out.

Every head in the room turns to Arlet.

She stiffens, her fingers pressing into the arms of her chair, as if she can root herself there.

I see the tension in her jaw and feel the dread sink low in my belly.

King Arion had met her once . He is a fickle sovereign. How did he muster enough power of mind to continuously think of her?

But deep in my mind, I understand. Arlet, in all her talent and fearless determination, is not easy to forget.

King Teo exhales through his nose.

Estela shakes her head, standing to take the stone slab from Lothar .

“That poisonous man,” she hisses.

Arlet takes a sharp breath.

“I don’t understand,” she starts. “He wants me to marry him?”

Teo nods.

“But why?”

“It doesn’t matter. No way in the fiery pits of hell will we ever let him anywhere near you. This is a trap—I’m sure of it,” Estela responds.

I agree with her wholeheartedly. Arion had betrayed us before in favor of a relationship with the giants. Even with the giants defeated, the elf could not be trusted. A man who lies is bound to do it again.

My fingers curl into fists so tight my nails bite into my palms. My arms feel heavy.

King Teo exhales sharply. “Two months,” he murmurs. “That’s what they offer?”

Lothar nods grimly. “Two months. No more.”

Thorne leans forward, eyes sharp. “King Arion does not request—he demands.”

Arlet stands abruptly, her chair scraping against the stone floor.

“I—none of this makes sense,” she starts, one hand pressing against her upper thigh while the other brushes hair out of her face. “Lord Thorne, you know his culture. His kingdom. What is he playing at?”

Thorne purses his lips. “Well, he is very keen to have a human. It’s no secret he remains unwed, and desires an heir.”

Arlet’s chest rises and falls rapidly. “So I… I must be the easy choice?”

Thorne shrugs, but Estela scoffs. “Who gives a fuck what he wants?”

I grunt, finding myself once again in agreement with my queen.

Teo studies the redhead at my side, his voice low but firm. “I understand everyone’s concern. However, the elves would not write something they did not intend to uphold. It would not be wise to let the decision go unconsidered.”

Estela frowns. “While that is true, we have spent considerable time defining our laws and policies with personal choice in mind. The only person who can say yes or no to this offer is Arlet.”

Lord Ra’Salore scoffs. “Sacrifice is a necessary element of service in the council. The trade is a human bride for ensured peace.

“Peace with Arion,” Thorne interjects, his voice low. “Which would be in direct conflict with your allyship with Mrath.”

As words are shot throughout the room, I see Arlet build up her defenses. Her face goes blank, and her hands still. Slowly, she sits back down, and in an act I’m sure she doesn’t identify, she leans toward me.

I blink once. My tail, which had been resting on the floor under my chair up to this point, seeks the leg of her chair. It curls round as I let out a long breath. Then it pulls just a little.

Her head whips toward me, and I let go immediately, coughing once.

What are you doing?

Shifting forward in my seat, I put a little space between us and join the conversation.

“We have promised Mrath that we would assist her in claiming the elven throne. There was always going to be a war—this offer could hurt us just as much as it helps.

Estela purses her lips and returns her gaze to Arlet.

“It would be good to know your thoughts in this discussion, Lady Arlet.”

The redhead at my side looks around the room, her expression unreadable.

The missive’s words play through my mind.

“If our request is met, a binding peace agreement will be brokered, and Enduvida will be spared a second war.”

Helping others is Arlet’s addiction. It’s simply too sweet for her to resist. I watch every subtle move of her body, willing her to put herself first for once in her godsdamn life.

She takes a deep breath.

“Becoming Arion’s bride would support his rule, leading to a longer rule. In the long run, I think it would be more dangerous than outright refusing. ”

I lean back, almost smiling.

That’s. Fucking. Right.

“I think it is important to know what exactly happened when you met him the first time?” I cut in, voice low. I need details.

She hesitates. Then, “I escorted him to the Festival of Endu. He told me he liked humans. I don’t remember much else before the attack.”

Teo leans forward, fingers steepled. “And now, he seeks you in marriage?”

“This is not a marriage proposal,” Arlet says bitterly. “It’s a breeding order.”

A guttural growl rises in my throat, and a few heads turn toward me. The ache in my limbs sharpens, creeping up my spine, spreading through my body. My hands curl into fists against the cold stiffness taking hold.

Lothar shifts his weight in the chair. “I understand the gravity of what we’re discussing, but we don’t need to respond right away. We have just finished one celebration, and in a few days, we have another for the Mating Journey. Since this will not be a simple answer, I suggest we take time to review our options and speak with Mrath.”

“She will not take this news well,” Thorne warns. “I would tread lightly.”

I grit my teeth, my breath coming slower, my veins sluggish as though something were freezing the warmth right out of me.

Another drop of hatred seeps into my mind, poisoning my thoughts. It is madness that we even have to entertain this conversation.

When I look at Arlet, something fierce scratches at my chest. I’d been too angry—too worried during the meeting—and I would pay for that. But if it meant she wouldn’t consider this offer, it would be worth it.

The softer notes of the clock tower play outside, marking midnight.

“It is late, and it seems that we will not come to a conclusion tonight. If we need time to think about this and speak with our ally, then I request the meeting to end.”

I feel every gaze in the room.

Teo looks at his wife, and for a second, jealousy stirs in my chest. Not for Estela, but because I miss that sensation. I miss having someone who was my partner in all things.

It is Queen Estela who speaks next. “Lothar, Ra’Salore, Vann, and Svanna, will reconvene during our regular meeting time tomorrow. You may rest for the evening.”

Teo nods in agreement, and I don’t wait for anyone to say another word. I stand and leave, yanking the door open unceremoniously.

I hear the sound of her shoes first—impractical little heels designed to bridge the gap between human and enduar heights.

Adra always wore slippers or boots.

“Vann!” Arlet calls.

For a second, my dull, frost-coated emotions spike again. It’s unhealthy. I’ll pay the price for such feelings soon.

I let out a sigh and turn, despite the stiffness in my limbs.

She’s closer than I expected—almost close enough to reach out and grab. I wish I could make her swear she’d never consider leaving.

But that’s senseless.

She said no.

The matter is settled.

Her brown eyes search my face. “Thank you for ending the meeting. I… I didn’t want to be there.”

One of the straps of her gown slips off her shoulder, the fabric dipping near the swell of her breast.

I look at the ceiling, but remember the way she shifted toward me in her seat when she felt unsafe. My hand presses into my pocket and is met with a silky texture.

Damn. The token I’d tried to give her.

“I didn’t do it for you. I was tired,” I grunt. It wasn’t a total lie—my arms are starting to stiffen and ache.

I almost leave, but instead, I pull out the green hair ribbon with little clusters of green stones hanging off the end. “This was meant to be for you.”

She blinks once, brows furrowing, and then takes the small gift.

“Thank you,” she says quietly.

I incline my head toward her, just as my gaze catches on her delicate, freckled throat. The sight is enticing, which is exactly the opposite of what it should be.

Without my full control, my tail still moves towards her, the tip hitting her calf lightly. But, instead of responding, I leave her there and run away like a damn child.