Chapter 18: Chapter 18

KAMORA

Lord Maroke observed the interaction between Kamora and his son with keen interest, although his expression remained indifferent.

Their relationship was heartwarming, but it also sent a familiar pang of pain creeping up his chest. Many times, he had to avert his gaze from them, as looking at them felt like his chest was being sliced with a knife.

The fact that he didn’t outwardly wince was a testament to his sheer willpower. Watching Kamora bond with his son stirred a complex mix of emotions within him.

It was almost jealousy, a disheartening feeling given that Jarosh was Kamora’s child, and Kamora was his wife. Nevertheless, he couldn’t ignore the gnawing envy that, despite their lack of knowledge about their true identities, Jarosh and Kamora connected on a deeper level—something he had to work hard to achieve with Kamora.

Now that he thought of it, his goal was straightforward: to make Kamora fall in love with him and confess her feelings. If he could endure the pain that would come with it, he might finally break the curse that haunted his lineage.

When that day arrived, he hoped that he, Kamora, and their son could truly become a united family. As the carriage continued on its journey, punctuated by the hushed whispers and giggles of Kamora and Jarosh, a tranquil atmosphere enveloped them.

Eventually, the carriage came to a halt, and they all peered out of the window.

“We’ve arrived,” Lord Maroke declared.

The Goddess’s Grove had once been a sacred place where the Fae, both elite and commoners, conducted rituals in honor of the mother Goddess of the Fae. These traditions dated back thousands of years, long before the Fae and humans merged to establish the kingdom of Amalith.

Now, these rituals had evolved into mere customs, more for entertainment than genuine religious devotion. At least, that’s what Lord Maroke believed.

Few held faith in deities other than the king and queen.

They disembarked from the carriage. Kamora held Jarosh’s hand as Lord Maroke stood beside them, his hands clasped behind his back.

“So, where shall we go from here?” Jarosh asked.

Lord Maroke glanced at his son and then at Kamora, who wore a flustered expression.

“I suppose we should take a stroll,” she suggested, looking up at him. “What do you think, my lord?”

For some reason, the way she gazed at him in that moment seemed to freeze time. A soft halo of light seemed to envelop her from behind, and her face appeared almost angelic.

~“What do you think, my lord?”~

The sudden memory triggered a sharp pain in his head, causing him to wince and instinctively clutch his forehead.

“My lord, are you all right?”

“Father, are you okay?”

The two voices asked simultaneously, but they did little to alleviate his headache.

~What was that just now?~ he pondered. He was sure he had remembered something—something crucial from his past.

It was strange. He had never recollected anything before.

Why now?

“I’m okay,” Lord Maroke assured them, waving his hand dismissively. “I just have a slight headache.”

Jarosh frowned. “You can return home if you wish.”

“No,” Lord Maroke insisted. “I want to spend the day with both—-with you.” He quickly corrected himself. “Don’t mind me. Let’s continue.”

He walked ahead of them, his hands folded behind his back, but he couldn’t shake off the nagging feeling that he should speak to Greyson about his recent episode. If he was suddenly remembering something, it had to be a good sign, right?

They arrived at a spacious park, wide and bustling with children from both the Fae and human communities, all engrossed in their playful activities. He recalled Kamora mentioning that her son, unlike other children, found these activities too immature for his taste.

As he glanced down at Jarosh, it was evident that he had no interest in the children’s games. Instead, his attention was drawn to what appeared to be a stage performance on the other side of the park.

“Do you want to go see it?” Lord Maroke asked his son, who quickly nodded affirmatively.

“You don’t mind?” Jarosh asked.

Lord Maroke shook his head. “Not at all. Let’s go.”

They made their way closer to the area where they found seats made of dried grass and branches neatly arranged in rows for the audience. Some people already occupied most of the front seats, so they settled in the seats at the back.

“Are you okay, my lord?” Kamora asked.

He looked at her, puzzled by her question. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

She chuckled self-consciously, seemingly searching for a response. Jarosh beat her to it.

“She’s probably wondering if you find this place comfortable. It’s not your usual preference, Father.”

In some peculiar way, the way his son phrased it ignited a sense of competition in him. “Oh, and I suppose you find this place more comfortable than I do?”

“Of course,” Jarosh said boldly. “If I survived in the commoners’ market, this is just a breeze for me.”

Seeing that his son could speak to him openly without hesitation filled him with happiness, mixed with the all-too-familiar pang of pain. He clenched his hands by his side to conceal the hurt he was experiencing and took deep breaths.

“My lord, if you’re uncomfortable, I can look for better seats,” Kamora offered.

“It’s fine,” he replied, waving her concerns away. “I don’t mind.”

The seats were well-crafted, using rudimentary materials, but they were as comfortable as any normal chair, if not softer.

As it turned out, the performance on the stage wasn’t a play but rather a ritual conducted by plant and water Fae. They sang in strange hymns dedicated to the Goddess, and vines and water moved in harmony on the elevated stage, creating a mesmerizing show.

Kamora had already retrieved the young lord’s snack, a large bag of biscuits. He watched the ritual with a sense of wonder while nibbling on a biscuit.

“I wonder what my Fae powers are going to be,” Jarosh said suddenly.

Kamora glanced at him and replied, “You’ll probably inherit your father’s powers.”

At that, Jarosh sighed, and Lord Maroke wasn’t quite sure how to interpret his son’s reaction. For some reason, he felt that Jarosh was disappointed at the prospect of sharing the same powers as him.

“Why? Don’t you wish to have the same powers as I do?” he inquired.

His son looked at him with a dry expression. “You have the gift of flight, Father. There’s nothing special about it.” He sighed again, popping another cookie into his mouth.