Page 42 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

ARLET

T he witch leads me away and the decision settles heavily on my shoulders. It locks into place around my heart.

I don’t look back. Because if I do, I might think of Vann’s heart. Or matehood. And then… I might break.

The way out of the cavern is quicker than I had anticipated, and soon, we reach the exit just as another explosion erupts on the shore.

At the mouth of the tunnel, I take it all in. We are on an incline from the beach, giving me a perfect view of the chaos. The wreckage of huts, broken bodies, and the scorched earth make my chest tighten. A pang of guilt shoots through me.

I feel small in the face of it, helpless.

“You will need to scream if you want them to hear you,” the woman says. “I can help you with that.”

She reaches out and places a weathered hand on my throat. I swallow, and then gasp in a deep breath.

“It is me! I am the one you seek! I will go with you!” The words spill from my lips, forced but final.

As soon as I am finished, the fighting falters for a heartbeat. The clashing of weapons slows, and a heavy silence fills the air. I feel the weight of every eye on me, and the pressure builds in my chest. I can't breathe. Not yet.

Without thinking, I scream again, my voice cutting through the quiet, raw and desperate. “I will go with you!” Miraculously, my plea works.

With a force that seems to ripple across the battlefield, Maelira raises her hand from over near a cluster of destroyed buildings. The air shivers under her power. Magic pulses outward, sweeping across the fighters, halting the chaos.

The battle stops.

I look around, my heart racing as I see the elves lower their weapons following the witches’ retreat. A group of them starts to move toward where I stand near the cave.

“Be safe, kin sister,” the witch says to me. “I am glad to have met you.”

“Stop!”

The sound of Vann’s voice snakes up my arms, curling around my neck, threading through my hair like lightning.

I begin walking toward the group of elves when the awareness comes over me. He hadn’t been easy to spot from the incline, but now I feel him. The particles of my being seek him out.

Reach for his closeness.

There will be a few more quiet moments before the elves reach my path to the shore. In that silence, I see him.

Vann, his bloodied figure running from the other side of the hill. His pace is frantic, desperate. The sound of his boots hitting the earth carries over the stillness.

I wait for him, needing to see him—to give him this one last chance to say goodbye.

“What the fuck is going on?” he demands.

Up close, he’s even more terrifying. He’s utterly drenched. His clothes cling to his body, soaked through with the dark red stain. His silver braid sticks to his neck.

The elves approach on the other end, waiting for me, but he steps between me and them.

"Arlet, stop this,” Vann says. He searches my face, likely seeing if my eyes are their normal color. When he realizes I haven’t turned, he looks frantic. “ Arlet . Don’t be so self-serving. This is insanity. ”

A sharp voice from the group of elves interrupts, cold and commanding. "If she does not come with us now, we will attack."

I take a breath. I meet Vann’s gaze, and I know—this is it.

My gaze shifts to the elf who spoke.

“I will come with you,” I call back.

“You will not,” Vann shouts, stepping forward. Crowding me. Choking me with the scent of blood.

I have just enough space to see one of the men raise their arrow.

“Wait! Just, a moment, please,” I shout. “I am coming!”

The bow lowers.

Vann grabs my shoulders, the handle of his cleaver pushing into my shoulder bone. “What are you doing?” He shakes me once.

Tears spill down my cheeks.

“I saw it,” I bite. “I saw your heart. What you did... you lied to me.”

His face goes pale, and the lines of struggle fade into shock. His gaze locks with mine, a flicker of fear, but something deeper—guilt, maybe—crawls across his features.

“My what?” he whispers.

“The heart you traded to be with Adra. The woman who is not your mate!” I spit the words, bitter and sharp. “The one you lied to me about.”

His eyes search mine.

“How?”

I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. You… you are my mate Vann. I saw your heart, and heard it sing. But you already made your choice. And now, I have to make mine.”

“No. The last time I saw you, you were begging me to come back safely. Not even an hour ago we?—”

“ Mi cielo,” I press my hand against his soiled chest. “What… is one of the things I have wanted most?”

I wait for his answer. A family, a mate, a child, a quiet, happy life. Things he could have given me.

He presses his lips together. He knows. He knows me so well and he didn’t care.

“I know I’ve made mistakes. Let me fix them.”

I shake my head.

“Let me go,” I whisper, the words breaking in my throat. “If you don’t, I will never forgive you. And I promise you, I will find a way to leave again—but the lives lost between now and then will be on your head.”

He holds me tighter.

“Firelocks.”

“You lied to me,” I said.

“But I didn’t know?—”

“Stop. Please. Let me go.”

He doesn’t move.

So I scream, “Let me go!”

“Arlet.”

It’s a name filled with the agony at the heart of every fallen civilization.

But then, with a sudden, shaky motion, he throws his cleaver to the ground, the blade clattering against the dirt and rock.

He steps back.

Surrenders.

Grants me one last gift— listening to me.

“Tell Estela I love her. Tell everyone I will miss them,” I say, and then I walk past, to the elf waiting at the front of the group.

I know if I look I will break.

The elf does not speak, but his men create a tight circle around me. They do not restrain me or pick me up.

We just walk down the path. To the dark shore boat with Arion’s tree insignia.

The world floats around me and I can hardly believe where I am. What is happening.

Someone helps me onto the boat.

I don’t look back as they push us away from the sand, or cut through the water. The air feels cold now, unfamiliar. The soft hum of the boat is the only sound.

I try to breathe deeply, to find something that still feels like me, but there’s nothing. Just the emptiness of moving forward, away from everything I thought I knew .

The shoreline grows distant, the sounds of battle muffled and fading. The ship looms large, its dark form rising from the water, and I can feel the eyes of the elves on me as we approach. Waiting for me.

So sure I would come.

The leading boat towers over the shoreboat as it docks. Its hull is dark, made of polished wood that gleams faintly in the moonlight, accented with silver trim. The sails are unfurled, shimmering like fine silk. The ship is sleek, with intricate carvings along the railings and a large, ornate tree sculpted into the stern, its roots sprawling across the back.

They throw down a ladder, and then I am made to climb up first. My legs shake, and my hands tremble.

Above me, more than twenty elves stand at attention, their postures stiff, their faces blank. So many. If I hadn’t come… they would have kept sending more and more men.

Right choice. You made the right choice.

As I step onto the deck, they bow. One by one, each of them lowers their head to the floor in a single, coordinated motion.

I freeze.

They’re bowing to me?

My chest tightens. I stand motionless, unsure of what to do. Their eyes are full of reverence, and yet, it feels like a trap.

My heart aches. I’m not ready, but there’s no turning back now.

“Lady Arlet, betrothed of the King,” one of the elves calls out.

The title is heavy and final. I hated getting a title in Enduvida… this is worse.

I close my eyes momentarily when something slick moves down my leg. I bite my tongue, holding back the sob.

The last piece of Vann I will ever touch.

This is what I chose. This is what I have to be now.

“Welcome aboard, Precious Cargo!” a familiar voice calls from behind. I turn, my heart racing, to see Emissary Thorne.

He stands tall, his short white hair catching the moonlight. His green eyes lock onto mine, he smiles brightly.

“What are you doing here?” I ask. “Are you taking me home ?

His smile remains frozen on his lips, but his eyes change. They grow icy. They harden.

“No, my dear. We’re going to Shvathemar.”

What is he doing here?

My mind churns as I try to place him in a new light. My heart is still reeling from Vann. It rejects the possibility of more. Like another punch to the gut after getting slapped across the face.

I open my mouth, Thorne comes forward, grabbing my hand. I flinch, but his grip is unyielding.

“Come now, you should rest.”

No one protests. No one even bats a fucking eye—like he belongs here.

He leads me firmly into the cabin at the end of the boat. The action is not overtly rough until the door is closed. Without warning, he shoves me forward. My hips him something solid—a table—and then I fall backward.

“Thorne!” I shout. Would anyone even come?

“You smell like basil. Trying to get this little curse mark removed? Wrong choice, lovely.” Then his eyes narrow. “And you smell like… one of them. Have an eventful trip, then?”

I sneer, but he laughs. “You’ll need to behave as the next queen now.”

Then the elf pulls out a small, precise blade. He grabs my foot, restraining my attempt to kick him, and cuts across my curse mark. Pain lances through me, as a shockwave of power ripples beneath my skin. I arch off the table, gasping.

“What are you—” My voice falters as I try to steady myself.

Thorne watches me with an eerie calmness, his smile widening as he pulls at the air over my foot. Brilliant, white magic begins to flow from the wound.

My heart races.

“What is that?”

“Your gift to your future husband. I thought you would go to Arion quickly. He is unhappy with me.”

“I thought you were working for Mrath,” I say through gritted teeth .

A sharp, cold smile twists his lips. “Why serve the beast when you can serve its master?”

“All this time, we invited you into our home, showed you trust, we?—”

“The Enduar King showed me that which he had to. There is no loyalty between us. And you, with your pretty projects. Your lovely devotion. You don’t even lock your doors.”

… What?

I don’t think I voice the thought, but he smiles.

“A bit of glamor, and I could get near your house. A bit of persuasion, and it was easy to slip past your utter lack of protection.”

I blink rapidly. Glamor?

The man at my door, Daniel.

“Are you telling me that you were?—”

“Yes. Your last lover. I found him shortly after arriving in the city. It was easy to break his neck, simpler yet to steal his face. And it worked perfectly to be near you long enough to activate this little magical marvel.”

He taps my leg.

I kick at him, and Vann’s name freezes on my lips.

He’s gone. It’s just me.

One more slicing pain shifts over my foot.

“There,” he murmurs, satisfied. “At last.”

I pant, my body shaking as I clutch my side, blood soaking through my gown. “What did you—what did you do to me?”

Thorne does not meet my eyes.

Instead, he lets the white magic flow over my legs. A shifting mass of runes glows over my thighs, shins, and knees. Heat pours over my skin.

Hot, and powerful.

Then, in the back of my mind, a voice I haven’t heard in days speaks.

Well done.

Not Arion’s voice. The other one… the second voice. My eyes unfocus and refocus.

“The Cumhacht na Cruinne has been hidden for centuries. And somehow your people found it,” he says, casually, as though he has not just carved something from my body, as though I am not trembling before him. “A force strong enough to destroy the unkillable.”

My breath hitches. How long had this plan been in motion? He went to Enduvida to meet a human woman. And then he gave me a gift. During all that time, was he just waiting like a snake in the grass?

Thorne leans in, voice soft as silk.

“Strong enough to kill Mrath.”

I stop breathing.

“When your queen first found it, I took back a part, just enough, and hid it. And now,” he holds up the magic swirling in his palm, “I finally have a proper gift to give my king.”

The end… for now.

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