Page 36 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

ARLET

I wake to the scent of herbs and the murmur of voices too low to distinguish. A sharp pain across my ankle makes me hiss. My head throbs, and I blink, my vision slow to adjust.

I’m lying on something hard, barely cushioned with a rough fabric. Something marginally softer props my head up. Above me is a rough stone ceiling, lit only by the flickering glow of firelight.

Stone.

For a moment, a sense of relief hits. I’m back in a cavern, safe. My journey is over.

Except… there are no crystals, nor is there a familiar hum. Around me is bare and silent.

The realization sends a rush of panic through me. If I’m not in Enduvida, then what is this place?

I push myself up onto my elbows, feeling another sharp throb in my skull. My throat is dry. “Where?—?”

Shadows dance along the walls, elongating the figures standing around the stone slab where I lay.

My heart races.

Human women. The brujas .

They are draped in dark robes, their faces adorned with intricate black tattoos that twist and curve like living ink .

One is closer than the others, just near my exposed feet, but they all watch. Some of their eyes are dark as pitch, others unnervingly pale. All of them are fixed on me with unsettling intent.

This is it. This is where I have been trying to reach for weeks. My breath rushes in and out of my lungs.

The woman closest to me switches her position from my ankle, to my face. Her silver-streaked hair falls in full, straight locks over her shoulders, and her face is covered with intricate markings, curling over her cheekbones and down her throat.

She pulls something from her robes, a small vial with a thin, dark liquid, and then removes the small cap with her thumb.

My brows furrow, and she grabs my face. Before I can protest, she jerks on my chin and pours the bitter liquid inside.

I sputter.

“Swallow,” she commands, her voice smooth. “This will be worse if you don’t.”

I do, blinking slowly.

The others hang back, apart from me and the witch. They watch her, and I wonder if she is their leader.

Her expression is unreadable, but there’s a tension in the air, as if they are waiting for something.

“What did you give me?” I ask.

Silence.

If it had been poison, would my Fuegorra have detected it? It should have glowed, right? It does for many other things. It had worked last night, as my inner thighs are much less sore than they had been while flying.

But there is no heat, no rush of blood, no glowing light leaking through the fabric of my shirt.

Another possibility creeps up—that whatever she’d given me could inhibit the gem in my chest. I look for weapons around the room and see none.

“What is your name?” the woman asks.

“Arlet.” My voice cracks, hoarse and weak. "Where is the man I travel with? We brought a dragon as well.”

The woman’s gaze sharpens, and her posture stiffens. “Your companion and steed are being restrained.” Her words are clipped, tight.

“Restrained?” I push myself to sit up fully, ignoring the dizziness that pulls at me. “No. Please. We are not a threat.”

A different woman scoffs, arms crossed over her chest. “Dragons have voracious appetites and your man… He is an elf, and we do not harbor spies.”

Confusion crashes into me like a wave.

“Spies? He’s neither spy nor elf.”

The leader looks away, waving her hand carelessly. “He looks like one of them .”

“He is an enduar—a troll. His skin is blue,” I insist.

“Perhaps he is sick.”

“He has a tail! And there are no marks of the living wood on him,” I continue.

The leader shakes her head, cutting me off. “Human, I do not know where you come from, but you seem confused. Elves have been testing our barriers for three days. Our sisters have caught them at the edges of the islands, searching for weaknesses. And now you arrive, with an elf-not-elf at your side. What is your true intent?”

More memories bubble up, this time of Arion using my body to kill. To run. To leave. And then, to speak.

I will find her, no matter where you run. Any city that harbors you will burn.

A wave of cold fear settles in my chest, but my tongue is loose. Compelled to speak.

"I mean no harm," I say quickly. "We came for help." I feel my heart pounding against my ribs. "I wasn’t sent here to attack you."

The witches exchange quick glances. The leader leans down. Her gaze is piercing.

"Help?" she repeats, as if testing the word. "Or are you here as a scout, sent to find weakness in our defenses?"

Normally, I would hesitate, but whatever they have given me loosens my tongue again.

“I was cursed,” I confess, the words coming slowly but resolutely. “By an elf, the Elf King . He wants me to be his wife. He gave me an object with dark magic—magic like what the witches on the mainland use. It burned that mark onto my ankle, and now it… it makes me run to him after I sleep. Makes me dangerous. I came to have it removed so I can sever his hold on me.

A heavy silence fills the cavern. The witches’ expressions shift, their eyes flicking over the dark mark on my leg, which is already burning faintly.

The leader leans in, her fingers brushing lightly over my ankle. The contact sends a sharp jolt of pain up my leg, and I wince, pulling back instinctively.

“We have been studying this,” she says sharply. "You carry the taint of Abhartach, but we have muted it.”

The words freeze me. “You have?” I manage, my voice small.

“For a short time, nothing more. The demon god is not welcome here.”

“Is he welcome anywhere?” I ask before thinking. It seemed to me that he was hated by most, but a necessary tool of power.

Another witch steps forward. I am surprised to see she is considerably older than the rest. Her hair is streaked with gray, and her hands are weathered, rough from a lifetime of work.

"Abhartach. The betrayer, the hungering void. His power seeps into the veins of kings and gods alike.” She gestures to the ink scrawled across her throat. “There were some of our sisters who strayed from our path, turned their backs on the sisterhood. They were bound to him. The last we heard, they fell."

“Then you’re not like them?” The question slips from my lips before I can stop it, and the witch who spoke before narrows her eyes at me.

“No,” she answers, her voice thick with something ancient. “Unlike those who serve him willingly, we funnel what remains through our own goddess. A human goddess.”

Her words land heavily. A flicker of recognition hits me like a jolt. "Ashra," I say quietly, unbidden—the name of one of Estela’s patron deities.

The leader’s expression darkens at the mention of the goddess. “Yes. But Ashra’s power is worn thin. She is not enough to shield us from the gods who wish to claim us. Or the men who seek to cross our barrier. Your curse is a complication we cannot afford. We should cast you away.”

The words hit me like a physical blow. My chest goes concave.

I remember being in the Sisterhood’s Enclave.

“What if we get to the island and the witches refuse?” I had asked Mrath.

That is what they are doing right now.

“Then you had better learn how to be persuasive, little ruby.”

A rush of heat floods my body, but I keep my voice steady, focused.

“You’ve been here, hidden away, untouched by the world for how long?” I ask, my voice low and fierce. “While I, and those I’ve known, were slaves. You’ve had your peace, your safety. The only time those I live with have seen dark magic in recent years is from your sisters. The tainted ones you mention. It is because of them that I am here at all.”

The leader’s eyes flicker with protest, but she doesn’t interrupt.

“Please,” I continue, rising to a sitting position despite the dizziness still clinging to me. “You must help me. We are of the same people. If you turn me away, you’ll leave me bound to a god whose magic you’ve already said you despise. Is that what you want? More of his power, spreading and taking control among your own kin?”

The cavern grows deathly still as my words hang in the air.

“If you want less of his magic in the world, you must help me break free. I am already tainted, and by turning me away, you only leave the curse to fester. The elves may still attack you, just because I was here. If it will directly help the elf king, and the darkness will spread. It’s not just my fate at risk—it’s everyone’s.”

I don’t know if that is exactly true, but Arion scares me. I don’t want anyone here to be hurt, I just want to be cured and left alone. Enduvida waits for me. I want to go home. To see my students, my home, my loom, my friends… I want time to nurture whatever is budding between me and Vann.

Once removed from Arion’s plans, those far more equipped to handle these situations will take the lead .

I need freedom from this like I need air.

The leader’s face softens ever so slightly. For a long moment, the witches are silent, considering my words. Then the leader speaks again.

“Very well. Because you are human, and your curse is woven with the magic of a god we despise, we will help you, Arlet of the Enduares. If not for you, then for those of our kind who will fall victim to this darkness, this god you carry." She straightens, then looks back at the others. “Nighttime is close. There is only one ritual I know of that can sever a connection to your god. It requires blood—yours, freely given.”

I swallow, my throat tight. "And Vann?"

She’s silent for a moment before responding. “You may see him after the ritual.”

I want to protest, but I know it is a bad idea to push. I cannot ask more of those who have already helped me. But if this is what it takes to free myself, I will endure it.

The leader gestures to two witches standing nearby. “You will bathe and be given fresh clothes. We will bring food to your companion.”

The two witches step forward, one of them the elderly woman from before.

“Wait!” I say. “What is your name?”

The woman smiles, her lips twisting up at the corners.

“Maelira.”

I nod my head. Strange, not at all like any of the human names I know. Despite everything, I feel giddy.

Just a few hours…

I can practically smell Enduvida. I was so full of new memories, ready to take back and apply to Lorepath. If the elves weren’t so close by, I would ask to stay. To glean as much as I can from this place.

“Nice to meet you, Maelira,” I say.

She gestures for the women to help me off the table. And I follow them, heart racing.