Page 41 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

ARLET

T he witch with long brown hair leads me deeper into the cave, and farther from the battle. The entrance was wide when we walked in, but the path narrows quickly, and the stone underfoot is smooth and cool.

I’m shaky— unsteady —after leaving the shore. Vann has never done anything but prove he is a capable soldier, and yet my heart races, my head throbs, and I fear.

It has less to do with skill, and more with… something precious. The most precious thing in the world. We had just been together. I can feel his fingerprints on my skin, and hear the sounds he makes when he’s pleased in my ear.

All my life searching for someone who understood me, and I had finally found that. It feels like catching a falling star moments before it burns out.

Come back safe, I repeat in my mind, over and over.

Thunderous crashes, rage-fed shouts, and metal sliding over metal roar behind me. I can’t breathe.

When King Arion had been in Enduvida, there had been so much fear and death. I had lived through it before—whippings in Zlosa, being nearly kidnapped by the elves—but this... this is different. It’s bigger. As uncontrollable as a storm tearing everything in its path. The sheer scale of it crushes me.

“Now you know what I do to those who have wronged me.”

A cold, damp breeze brushes past us and I shiver. It’s okay. The people up there know what they are doing. It will be over soon.

The cavern opens up, tripling in height from the tunnel. Being underground helps.

Reminds me of home. Especially because the walls glow with veins of blue and gold, pulsing in a steady rhythm.

I breathe out, grateful to be distracted by something— anything —as the zinging shocks crackling across my shoulders and hands.

Then the cavern shakes. Dust falls from the ceiling, and the ground beneath me trembles, making it hard to stay steady.

The witch who had brought me here glances over, her expression unreadable.

“They will need help—I must return. Will you be all right?” she asks, her voice steady, though an edge of urgency slips through.

“Of course. Thank you,” I manage, but my legs tremble, and the words come out thinner than I intend.

Images of the shore flash through my mind—flaming balls of magic lighting up the night, the chaos and destruction, the screams still echoing in my head. The fight isn’t over, and dread tightens in my chest for those still caught in it.

The escort calls something else at me.

“What?” I ask.

She uses a dialect of the human tongue, but the words blur together and I can’t make out the meaning.

“You will be safe here,” she reassures me, then hurries out, leaving me alone in the cavern.

I turn in a circle, my eyes darting around the dim space, but nothing seems solid. I can’t shake the anxiety gnawing at my mind.

Suspended above me are shapes, delicate and flickering, trapped in something clear that catches the light, floating like stars in the dark. Some glow with a faint red hue, others silver or violet, each pulsing with its own beat .

The sight speaks to me. Feels... familiar. So much like the crystals back home. I just need Vann to return so we can leave.

Another woman steps into the light, and I yelp, startled. She holds up her arms.

“Easy! I’m here to help,” she says.

Oh. My escort must have been telling her to watch me .

My cheeks heat a fraction. I didn’t like that they saw me as such a fragile thing, but I also could acknowledge that I am not a war maiden.

Being useless stings.

I recognize her weathered hands. My gaze returns to her face. Yes, this is one of the women who had helped me bathe earlier before the ritual.

She is old, with tanned, white skin and grey hair falling in soft waves around her face, which is lined with the marks of time. Her hazel eyes are deep.

“Battle is not kind to those who do not fight,” she says.

“I think it is cruel to everyone, just the same,” I respond, holding my arms.

She hums. Thoughtful.

“I am sorry they came for you, but we are practiced in this. It will be over soon.” She places a hand on my arm, and squeezes as another massive thud hits the ground and a tremor shakes the walls.

It isn’t until she touches me that I realize how cold I am.

Breathe .

“I don’t like that you are forced to do this. Why should you sacrifice for me?”

“You spoke elegantly when you first arrived. You reminded us of our duty to those of our kind who are not blessed with a channel to magic. Maelira does not speak much, but after our meeting, she told us that she felt we owe you,” she says.

“I don’t?—”

“It was good you came. It has been so long since we have known anything about our kin.”

I breathe. She makes it sound so easy to accept help.

It is not .

“Would it help if I showed you more of this place?” she asks, pointing up to the lights along the ceiling. “It might soothe the discomfort of not fighting.”

I suck in a sharp breath, and nod. I am eager to get my mind off of what is happening outside.

“This place is called The Hollow. There used to be a dozen or so of these in the west,” she starts.

“And what do you keep here?”

“In this one, we have over a thousand years of debts my sisters made with strangers across the continent,” she says softly. “Each one a price, paid in memories or blood.”

“Are they records?” I ask, thinking of the library in Enduvida.

She gives me a half smile. “Almost. Some are memories. Some are entire souls, or pieces of souls. Some…” she trails off as I look up again.

Each floating thing is pretty, but I don’t know if I should be mesmerized or afraid by pieces of people flickering above.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say. Then yelp “fuck” as another crash rumbles through the cave.

Vann. Be safe. Be safe. Be safe.

The old woman approaches and pats my back, waiting for the fear to ease with soft words. When the dust settles, she helps me up and smiles.

“You are kind,” I murmur.

Something flickers behind her eyes, then she says, “Please excuse my frankness, but I am old and formalities are useless. I just need to tell you that when I saw you, I felt something,” she says softly. “I felt a memory stirring in the cavern. A debt. Then they told me about your companion and I almost didn’t believe them. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen a troll.”

My eyes widen. “You know of them? How?”

“I used to have a post near the city’s capital. I was in charge of brokering more than a few of these debts.” Her hand gestures above her.

I look around again. “For some reason, I thought people would only leave this place if they wanted to abandon your customs, like The Six had.”

The woman laughs.

“We were much different when I was your age.” Her brows draw together. “It’s been nearly sixty years since I was there. Or perhaps more? Who knows. Time mixes with the humid air and addles my brain.”

I smile, once again storing every bit of information. I want to ask more, but a new wave of dust shakes from the top of the cavern.

Nervous, I push away. Squeezing my hands, as if trying to pull out my worries through my palms.

The old witch, wizened and gentle, watches me as I pace, her eyes never leaving.

When I finally look up, I meet her dark hazel gaze, and to my shock, her eyes begin to glow. I gasp, stepping back, and bracing myself for her to speak with Arion’s voice, or to attack me, or something totally unexpected, but decidedly worse.

But what I didn’t expect was the pure sadness in her expression, a sorrow so deep it felt like it could swallow a mountain.

“Oh… no. I didn’t realize... The man you bring with you… It was him. I told him he would live to regret it.”

My heart skips a beat as she looks at me, and I realize she’s talking about Vann.

“Vann? Regret what?”

“You,” she continues, her voice firm, “are tied to him more deeply than you understand.”

I open my mouth to speak, but she holds up a hand, silencing me as she turns away. “Come, kin sister,” she urges, leading me deeper into the cavern. “There is more you must see.”

Her pace quickens as we move further, the soft glow of the walls marking our path. Her words stay with me, gnawing at my thoughts. She said she felt something—a connection. What the hell does that mean?

More debts float around me.

And between them, written in light, are words that do not stay still. Promises, broken and unbroken, twisting like ink bleeding into water. Some flicker faintly, nearly faded, lost to time. Others burn so brightly I can barely look at them.

“It is unusual for a human to be with a member of a magical race,” she says. “The world must be very different from how it was the last time I visited.

I hum. “Humans having mates is new, yes.”

“Does that mean that you and him are…?”

“What? No. He… was mated before.”

A part of me wonders why I am telling her everything, but I like her. And… I want to know what she’s talking about.

“So he never told you.”

I freeze.

“What?”

The old woman stops and looks at me.

“Is he still in pain?” she asks, her voice soft, but there’s a sharpness to it that I can feel deep inside me. “Still cold? Still walking around without a heartbeat?”

My heart tightens, and I want to say something—anything—but the words catch in my throat.

Heartbeat… No heartbeat.

My eyes widen as I review all the moments I thought it was strange I couldn’t hear his.

“You aren’t one of us,” she says, voice flat. “But you are human. A kin sister, of sort.” She studies me carefully. “A human being with an elf or a giant or a troll, it is unwise. Before you stay with him, you should know the truth.”

I swallow hard, uncertain of where this is going. “What truth?”

My pulse pounds in my throat and my hands go numb. It isn’t her who makes me feel unsafe so much as it is the look in her eyes.

Her lips press together, her hand brushing against the curve of the cavern wall. She doesn’t look at me for a moment, lost in thought. When she finally speaks, her voice is heavy with time, with things unsaid.

“Long ago, I met your troll. He was young then—different. He came here to make a deal. To remove his heart, so he would never have a mate. ”

“He did what?” My voice is raw with disbelief.

“He didn’t want to be bound,” she continues, the words coming slower now, like she’s reluctant to say them. “He said he had a woman—that she was more important to him than the future.”

Her gaze softens as she looks at me, almost protectively.

“Are you telling me… one of these debts is his?”

She nods once, then leads me into another room. More debts are swirling above us, but in the center of the small space, there is something deep purple. It’s large, carved from crystal, but not still. It moves. It glows. It pumps.

Beats .

I look back at the witch, still unable to process what is happening. “You are saying that is?—”

“His heart. He paid me. I took it, and sent it here for keeping.”

I look back.

Vann’s heart.

It hovers, caught in a web of light.

When I step completely inside the room, it sings.

The sound is not something I hear with my ears but something that moves through my bones, the Fuegorra in my chest humming in response. A call. A tether.

The stone embedded in my chest starts to glow brilliantly.

No. My eyes burn and I let out a sob.

The pull is undeniable. Because I know, I feel it.

I am his mate.

The truth slams into me, and the breath is ripped from my lungs. My knees give way, and I grip the nearest rock for balance. My vision blurs with unshed tears.

He had never told me about this. Not only had he hid this, he’d lied to me. He told me that he was mated. That we could never be.

“Did—”

I break off.

“Did he know that the other woman wasn’t his mate?” I ask.

The old woman nods.

“How do you?—”

Her hand reaches out and touches mine, and I am transported to a distant time. I watch the memory from her eyes, seeing Vann. I hear him insist on her services.

Watch her warn him, only for him to promise that he would never want another.

When the memory fades, my cheeks are wet.

The sting of not being chosen hurts. It burns and aches, but even then, I might be able to forgive it.

The lie, after all the trust we’d shared. After every secret I’d told him?

That… I cannot forgive.

The thought hits me as I stare at his heart, glowing and perfect, suspended in the air like a mockery.

I can’t help but review each moment I poured out my soul. Did he know we were mates all along? He let me cry while I told him about children, and a future, and a happy, quiet life.

He listened, as if he had not been the one to rip those dreams away.

But it doesn’t stop there.

More images push into my mind, relentless, cruel.

A home we built together, far from war and pain, with a fire that never goes cold. A child, our child , with blue skin and my dark eyes, gripping Vann’s finger and giggling, babbling sounds that mean nothing and everything. I see him holding them the way he holds his weapons—as if they were both precious and powerful. I see laughter shared between us, quiet moments of warmth, safety. We could have had a love that would have been unbreakable.

I see a future that is now destroyed because he chose someone else. He gave his heart away before he ever met me, before he ever touched me, before he ever let me believe there could be something more.

He didn’t stop me.

But he let me believe. Let me trust him.

My breath shudders, my hands shaking as I curl them into fists. I let him heal the wounds on my body, let his touch chase away the pain.

And now, he is the one who carves apart my soul. This is betrayal. This is the undoing of everything I thought I could be.

“It is in their nature to deceive humans. You should protect yourself, child. He won’t protect you."

She was both wrong and right. Physically, he had saved me—many times. He’d paid dearly for some of those encounters. I think of the way he helped me open up. He’d been there, saving me from my own emotions. He’d brought me here to save me from myself.

And along the way, he had asked for total, utter honesty without returning it. It almost doesn’t make sense—which is what scares me the most. If he had lied to me about something so big, then what else had he lied about?

The realization sinks into my ribs, sharp and unforgiving. I close my eyes, swallowing down the ache in my throat.

And I... I gave him everything.

If I return, I will always know what he did and what he hid from me. Like every man before him, he made promises, but when it came time to keep them—he chose to lie. He chose someone else.

Vann chose someone else.

And now, I have to make my own choice.

When I look down, I see my ankle. The curse mark is still there, a black snake burned into my lightly tanned skin.

The words of King Arion echo in my mind. I hear his promise to come for me, to destroy everything I’ve ever known. That threat won’t go away, even if the curse mark fades in the morning.

And even being Vann’s mate? He cannot protect me from that.

Arion had also offered peace in exchange for me. Lord Lothar had confirmed it was a binding political contract. Mrath would be upset, but they could smooth over that when the time came.

I think of all of my work. My position, the school, the children, the fabric… someone could pick up where I left off.

And then I think of that awful night spent in Zlosa, bound to my bed. The ache in my womb that has followed me for the last decade.

The childbearing aspect will be a problem. I don’t have immediate solutions. Maybe, there will be a fix I haven’t allowed myself to consider yet. Or maybe, Arion will do as I thought, and dispose of me .

But a maybe is better than a definitely .

If I go back to Enduvida with Vann, then the elves will follow us, as they did here—as they tried to do in Dragon’s Reach—and they will burn the city.

How can I stay with Vann, knowing what he’s done, and bear the weight of souls lost in my name?

I know what it is to kill. I know what it is to be powerless.

So I will choose.

If I cannot give my love to my mate, who is supposed to be my perfect partner, I will give it to others who depend on me in Enduvida.

They still deserve the bright, beautiful future I had hoped for in myself.

I wipe my face with the back of my hand, inhaling sharply. I turn to the old woman, my voice steady, even though my heart has been ripped open.

“I need to go back outside,” I say, firm and resolute.

“That is unwise while the battle still rages,” she responds.

One choking breath rushes out of me.

“Then help me end what is left.”

Her lips press together. “I will not save you from one monster to give you to another. My words are not hollow.”

My head shakes side to side.

“I am not afraid. Thank you for giving me the truth—I treasure it. But I have to do this to help as many people as possible. Can you understand that?”

Her head dips as she studies my face, then reaches for my hand.

“From what I see of your soul and heart, I know you are good. I hope you come to see that too,” she says.

Good.

I want to be good—want it like air. At the very least, I want to not harm.

This decision will hurt. But at the end of the day, it will mostly only hurt me. And that is good enough.