Page 5 of A Cursed Bite (Bound to the Enduar #1)

ARLET

Present day, after the meeting…

A fter Vann left me in front of the throne room, I went to the front of the palace. There, I found my gifts had already been taken away, so I picked up a bottle of mead from the celebration and made my way home through Enduvida’s cavernous expanse.

As I walk, I savor the scent of nighttime. The air is thick with the smell of damp stone and the faint, earthy sweetness of bioluminescent mushrooms clinging to the walls.

When I cross a bridge, my mind clears even more. The bottle sloshes when it hits my hip, and I long to uncork it, and take a sip.

Normally, I don’t drink. Not really. Bad things seem to happen with me and alcohol, but it had been a long night, and I’d already partaken at the party. It helped me ease my racing mind. I don’t want that to end.

When I enter the council residence section, I take in the dozen circular homes before me. They are sturdy, but luxurious by my standards. Though they are all similar, being built into the rock gives each one its own charm.

My steps falter as I pass Vann’s home, a two-story dwelling built of dark stone. It is beautiful, like all the homes around it. Its entrance is framed by a twisting, root-like carving that gleams where the crystal veins run through it. The yard is well-kept and full of sprawling fungi that glow faintly in hues of violet and green.

A small forge sits at the side of the house, almost out of sight. I’d seen him tending to his weapons there, but at this hour, all signs of work have faded.

My fingers tighten around the neck of the bottle, and I tear my gaze away, pressing forward to my own home next door.

The words from the missive infiltrate my thoughts, and I grit my teeth.

"The solution is simple."

I can hear Arion’s voice, as if it were him reading me those words. He’d made me afraid, held me to the spot. Made me watch.

A memory of screams infiltrates my mind.

I climb the steps—too fast, too clumsy, my feet catching on the uneven stone, forcing me to throw a hand against the door frame to steady myself. The mead sloshes inside the bottle. I almost laugh at myself. I never drink, and yet here I am, stumbling into my own home like I don’t know the shape of these walls.

A few more words slip through.

"A symbolic offering to demonstrate the legitimacy of your request. A virgin to bear the elven heir."

The Elf King’s melodic, dark voice whispers in my ear, “Just a little longer, Arlet.”

Pushing through the front door, and into my home, I almost want to sit down right here and cry. Blood rushes in my ears, and I can only see the blur of crystal-lit stone as I press a hand against my face. Hot tears slip through my fingers.

Arion scares me.

We have an army large enough to protect our people from the vaimpír and other small threats. But we do not have enough to survive a war.

Not now.

Not now, when the children are growing up without fear.

Not now, when we have just opened a new section of our city .

"The flame-haired one called Arlet."

The king’s words circle in my mind. His phrasing, his demands—they are not new. Every word from the stone tablet is something he has already said to me before. Forcing myself onward, I climb the steps to my room, open the door, and take in the cozy, familiar sight.

What the hell kind of game is he playing?

I take a deep breath. Pull yourself together, Arlet. No one is upset with you for denying. Based on what Thorne said, it was probably for the best.

And as for my lies? Well, I don’t owe truth to a man who has betrayed me before.

But my feelings aren’t so easily calmed. He wants an heir, which I would be incapable of bearing. Even if he didn’t terrify me, I need strong magic to heal me. Last time I checked with Ulla, after a series of irregular bleeding cycles, my womb was still scarred.

But, she is sure that matehood would prepare me to be a mother. Grutabela’s magic would be lasting, too, and potentially grant me a whole gaggle of sons or daughters.

Regardless, this is the reason the enduares are my best option. Even if humans can mate with elves, it still won’t fix my problem. Their gods, Doros and Nicnevin, are focused on logic and the merit of their offspring. They don’t give blessings—they enchant objects and give them to the rulers of their people.

Arion might be able to procure an object with magic strong enough to help me, but if he finds out I am barren, he is more likely to toss me aside for someone who is less trouble.

And, even if he didn’t, raising a family with a being as cruel as the king?

He held me in place and made me watch the bloodshed.

I let a few more tears slip down my face.

First, I head to the table in front of a polished metal mirror, where I keep my hair brush and cosmetics. Then I pull out the hair ribbon Lord Vann had given me and inspect it. The material is delicate, and I’m struck by how thoughtful the action was.

He must’ve truly been assigned to give me a gift, then, because I’m not sure he would’ve done such a thing on his own.

A bit of blue on the table catches my eye, and I set down the bottle of mead. There, atop a silk scarf, is the carved flower, encircled by a snake that Arion had given me.

My skin goes cold, and I glance around. I’d brought the gift with me in the move, but I couldn’t remember putting it here.

You’re being silly. You probably pulled it from one of your moving sacks and didn’t have a place for it.

Having it out feels too raw. Too unwelcome. So I grab the thing, and throw it in the top drawer of my desk.

Pressing a cold hand to my fevered cheek, I grab the bottle again and turn from all the sour memories lurking in my mind.

I cross to the stone frame loom resting against the wall in the corner, grab a jeweled goblet off the shelf, set down my bottle, and thread one of the shuttles. After a minute of threading and pushing the yarn together to tighten the weft, I feel better.

This blanket has been sitting here half finished for months. It was supposed to be a gift for my partner at the time, Joso. Now… well. That is over and I am focusing on Lorepath and weaving. I keep busy.

Still, every few weeks, I pluck away at a few new rows in the piece. What started as a simple border became a raging river—one I don’t think I could cross without being swallowed alive. I’ve just finished weaving a sun-soaked meadow dotted with blue and pink flowers.

Each man who shaped these images in my mind flashes before me.

Daniel, my first love—the man who cut me deep and threw me out of his life.

Then Joso, the one who ended our time together because he couldn’t love me. Couldn’t give me what I desperately wanted.

I let out a sad laugh. The picture in front of me looked like a scene from an epic story I’d read.

Others read stories and dream of living wild adventures alongside handsome heroes and seductive heroines. They crave the wind on their faces, the thrill of rain running down their skin, and the scent of wildflowers in the sunshine as they race through open fields.

Not me.

Even considering leaving the caves makes my breath short. When I arrived in Enduvida, I didn’t mourn what I’d lost—I embraced what I could build. They won me over with the promise of a house I could turn into a home. That was something I hadn’t had since leaving the breeding pens.

Here, among the furs, crystals, and small metal decorations, I have crafted an oasis. I will never willingly give that up.

My eyes land on a few clothes strewn about the floor and I pause. I didn’t remember throwing those around. Had I really been so careless with my things before leaving for the ceremony? I stand and let the shuttles hang, quickly bringing the tunics to my closet. Inside, I notice one of the crates moved.

Strange.

Everything from before the ascension is such a blur, but I can’t remember doing this.

After righting the small room, I return to the loom, picking up the threads, and I weave one more row of green. It’s impossible not to wonder what image will take shape next.

Maybe I’ll find a way to weave the king’s offer into it. Perhaps it would help me feel better.

Tears prick my eyes as I stare at the rich green. It’s darker than the rest of the spool, less like grass and more like evergreens or emeralds.

My favorite color.

A sharp pain stabs through my chest, reminding me that I am, indeed, alone. I set the shuttles down, pour a glass of mead, and bring a jeweled goblet to my lips.

After a life of craving, suffering, and running, I cling to the peace and promise of happiness under the mountain like a woman seeking water in the desert.

I huff a laugh, pour another glass of mead, and let out a long breath, hoping it will shake loose the ache lodged in my ribs.

I worked so hard with Joso. I thought I’d been close to having a husband. A partner. A mate to help my broken body form a family.

I was wrong.

Even the word mate scrapes against my already-raw nerves. My gaze drifts back to the sunlit field of wildflowers woven into the fabric.

Joso had been kind to me when I arrived. Then, he protected during the raid on the cavern. When he’d carried me, it unlocked something inside me I thought had died with Daniel. A hunger for touch and trust.

He kept close to me after that.

A few weeks later, after walking me to and from my sessions teaching or weaving, he finally asked if I would join him for a meal. He kissed me that night, slow and careful, as if waiting for me to pull away.

Soft kisses were not as enjoyable as firm ones, but I was happy to go at a slower pace. I knew it would take me time to trust again.

He took me dancing, spun me through the fire lit halls, and laughed when I stumbled over the unfamiliar steps. He helped me wind skeins of thread. And then, a part of me fell quick and fast when he admitted that, like me, he wanted a mate. A family.

I thought that I could be happy with someone so… soft.

For months, I waited for a song to begin between us. For the crystals to hum, for the world to tell me that I had been chosen in this marvelous new place. None of it came.

Now, half-drunk and alone, I think about gods and fate.

What if… whatever song they’ve sung into the crystals doesn’t include a mate? Or a family? Or anything I’ve hoped for?

I let that truth roll through me, testing the sting.

Instead of accepting it, hope springs from some eternal fountain in my soul.

I picture a perfectly detailed future—one where a blue-skinned babe rests in my arms while a fire crackles in the corner of the room.

A brusque knock on the door shatters the lovely dream.

Bolting upright, I knock over the bottle at my feet. The world tilts slightly as I sway.

“Mierda,” I mutter, making my way toward the front door.

Another knock. Louder.

“I’m coming!” I shout, tripping over a rug that Fira, the head weaver, gifted me after I helped her knit a new robe. Righting myself, I realize that rug hadn’t been in that location either.

Before I have a chance to dwell, I hurry down the steps toward the hallway leading to the door as fast as I can without falling.

My fingers fumble around the bronze-gold handle, twisting it with more force than necessary as I yank the door open.

The moment I do, a dull roar fills my ears.

It’s not real. Not sound, exactly—more like the distant echo of a river. Danger. Pain. Sadness. Desolation.

It crashes over me with a frozen chill as I stare at the man standing in the doorway.

A human. Taller than me, but only just. His blond hair is recently shorn, his tanned skin marred by scars, and his bright green eyes are alight.

I know this face as well as I know the treacherous river lurking in the corners of my mind. My stomach knots, my fists clench—just like they had when I’d pounded on the door of our shared dwelling in another life.

The man I wished never to see again stands before me, appearing like a cruel phantom.

“Daniel,” I grit out.

He smiles, and my heart twists around the strings suspending it in my chest. The dimples on his cheeks had once been my favorite place to kiss. He was rugged, robust, and popular.

And many times, he had been heartless to me while the others smiled. He’d broken my trust and left me wounded.

“Arlet, they told me I’d find you here,” he starts. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

A cold chill coats my skin. I had no way of knowing he was lurking somewhere in Enduvida—not with the thousands of humans and enduares that joined us last in the year. I was also just appointed to the council, making me easy to locate. Easy to see.

This is my fault.

I move to shut the door on him. Normally, I’m not this rude, but he didn’t hesitate to throw me away after I endured one of the most brutal losses of my life. He doesn’t deserve my kindness .

Even as I think it, a small part of me aches.

“Not so fast,” he quips, shoving his hand between the door and the jamb. “Arlet, mi solecita, I’ve been looking for you since I got to this stinking cave. Imagine my surprise to see you shine once again.”

I shove against his hand, relishing the yelp he lets out.

Then… I sigh and pull the door open fully, revealing the lit street behind him. The spell lights cast a golden glow over the council district, their warmth blending with the eerie blue radiance of lumikaps— towering mushrooms as tall as men. Their bioluminescent caps pulse like a slow heartbeat.

Jutting from the cavern walls, massive veins of quartz catch the light, scattering faint rainbows across the streets below.

The homes surrounding us are built from a blend of stone and the enduares’ signature gold-like metal, their rounded structures gleaming even in the dim cavern light. Some houses hum softly, their mechanisms still in motion.

The sight should be familiar by now. But something about it, standing here in the threshold, staring at the man I once thought would stay, makes it feel distant.

Feelings aren’t things that can be neatly placed into drawers and tins.

“I’m not your solecita anymore,” I say. “I don’t want to see you again. Now, leave.”

He frowns, and a part of me—it’s instinct, really—wants to ease his discomfort. I don’t know if it’s out of habit or because of the way he treated me before.

His jaw clenches. “You want me to go? Why? Are you fucking one of the monsters?”

My buzzed mind plunges into icy water, gasping for a response. Any response.

“What are you?—”

“Someone told me you were fucking one of the monsters before I got here.”

My heart leaps into my throat. My lungs seize.

He doesn’t get to do this. He doesn’t get to act like I belong to him. He let me go—threw me away like a broken tool crusted with filth.

One breath. That’s all I get before I step forward and slap him with everything I have. The sound cracks through the quiet night. Daniel staggers back, eyes blazing with fury and shock.

I have never hit someone before. It feels… good .

“Arlet—”

“Is something wrong?” a new voice interjects.

Behind him, two figures step into the golden glow of the lanterns—one human, one enduar. Biren, with his dark curls and stocky build, stands beside Faol, an enduar hunter on the nightly patrol.

Their gazes land on me. On the tears burning down my cheeks.

Biren squares his shoulders. “What did you do?” he demands of Daniel.

Daniel , a partner who had been as good as my husband, the man who had fathered the only child I’d ever conceived, glares up at them.

“This isn’t your business,” he spits.

Faol ignores him, turning his stern gaze to me. “Are you all right, Lady Arlet?”

I swallow, forcing the pain back down. My lips curve into a brittle smile.

“I’m fine, but I don’t want to see him.”

Faol nods, and they move. Daniel barely has time to react before they seize his arms.

His face darkens. “What the hell? Arlet. Tell them to stop.”

I don’t. In fact, I watch.

His struggles fiercely. His voice sharpens. Desperate. Then, he switches to the human tongue.

“I swear it on our child’s grave—I only came to talk. Maldita puta!”

Ice shoots through my veins. How dare he invoke that?

I take a slow, deep breath. A crowd gathers as others come out of their houses. Fuck, I see Melisa, and her mate Ra’Salore. Svanna. Fira. Their presence wraps around me like a suffocating fog. My cheeks burn.

And then… the people part to reveal a fi gure. Vann.

His bright silver eyes sweep over the scene. His voice booms, carrying over the gathered onlookers. I hate myself for feeling glad.

“What’s all this?”

His gaze meets mine. Disdain flickers there—only to deepen when he turns to Daniel.

Daniel snarls, thrashing against his captors. “I just wanted to talk to my wife!”

The word slams into the crowd like the beat of a war drum.

Shock ripples across the faces of my fellow council members. Fuck. These are people who know I’ve been searching for a partner. People who know I was with Joso.

What must they be thinking of me?

From here, I see the shift in Vann’s expression. His disdain warps into something uglier.

“Wife?” he spits, his gaze snapping back to me. I think of the meeting we’d just had hours ago.

His mouth curls.

“Shame you didn’t invite me to the ceremony, Firelocks. The Mating Journey isn’t for half a week.”

Embers of indignation heat my skin. I won’t let Daniel do this.

Not again.

I lift my chin.

“This man is not my husband.” My voice cuts through the noise, ringing clear and final.

Another sentence sits on my tongue, one too private to bite out. Whatever was between us is as dead as the daughter I once carried for him.

“You lie!” Daniel shouts. Vann punches him in the gut, and a cold hush falls over the crowd.

I meet Faol’s gaze.

“Do what you will with him. I don’t want to see him again.”

I don’t wait to see what happens next.

I turn. I slam the door shut. I press my back against the stone, gripping the edges of my gown.

The emotions come fast and sharp, pelting me like frozen rain. I wait for the sadness, the agony, to smother the fire inside me.

But it doesn’t.

Instead, I crawl across the room, reach for my bottle of mead, and take a long swig.

Then another.

The clock tower chimes a slow, beautiful tune, marking two in the morning. This day has been a million years long. I need to sleep. I need to rest. Tomorrow, there will be plenty of work.

I lean against my chair, eyes on the loom, trying to steady my pulse.

A faint sound slithers behind me.

I stiffen, then turn. The shadows seem darker now.

“Hello?” my voice is quiet.

The sound grows louder. Then—pain strikes. A sharp, electric bloom of agony moves across my ankle.

The world lurches, and everything goes black.