Chapter 25: Chapter 25

KAMORA

Lord Maroke hurried to his office, doing everything in his power to keep his expression neutral. But his already pale complexion had turned ghostly, and the pain in his chest burned like fire.

He reached his office just in time.

The moment he shut the door behind him, his strength gave way. He collapsed to the floor, clutching his chest, the agony now unbearable.

Groans escaped his lips as he struggled to think of anything—anything—but Kamora. But it was impossible.

The force that surged between them during their brief contact had been staggering—enough to sweep away the sea. It was consuming, powerful, and all he wanted was to drown in it.

But before he could even begin to savor the feeling, the pain—once dull and familiar—came crashing back, fiercer than ever. It struck him like a barrage of carriages, relentless and crushing, hammering into him with brutal force.

If he hadn’t walked away when he did, he might have collapsed in front of everyone.

He didn’t know how much time had passed. He couldn’t even focus on that, as all his attention was on stopping the pain.

He barely registered the knock on the door, but the gasp that sounded upon its opening was enough to break him out of his painful reverie, even for just a minute.

“My lord!” Greyson exclaimed, quickly shutting the door as he hurried over to him.

“My lord, what is wrong? What is happening? Oh heavens, what should I do?”

Lord Maroke was grateful for the worry his assistant had for him, but at that point, he wished that he could shut up. He needed peace and calm to be able to help himself. Greyson wasn’t making it any easier.

“Let me help you up,” he said, putting his arm behind his neck to help him up.

Lord Maroke winced at the contact but embraced his help, and together they moved further into the study. Greyson then helped him into his seat.

Panting, Lord Maroke managed a small nod of thanks and then closed his eyes as he tried to dull the pain with his mind.

“I’ll look for a doctor,” Greyson said, hurrying out toward the door.

“No!” Lord Maroke burst out, wincing at the amount of energy he had expended.

“Please don’t,” he said, his voice now more like a whisper. “It will soon be over. I am already used to this.”

“What do you mean by that?” Greyson said, hurrying back over to him. “For how long has this been going on?”

“This is the first time I have experienced this much pain,” Lord Maroke said, wincing again. “I am used to the sudden bursts of pain, so perhaps as usual, this will go away soon.”

He took in deep breaths, thinking of random objects in his mind.

“What did you usually do to help me—” he winced. “Before I lost my memory?”

“I had always carried a small bag of powder with me,” Greyson answered. “I had gotten it from some human healers, and it always helped to dull the pain for you.”

“Do you still have it?”

“It’s been a long time since you experienced this, so I haven’t used it for years. I am not sure if we have it anymore.”

“Please,” Lord Maroke said, wincing again. “Please get it for me.”

“I will, I will.”

Lord Maroke listened as Greyson scurried around his study, using the noise as a distraction.

“It has to be here somewhere,” Greyson muttered under his breath, still rummaging through the office drawers.

A few tense moments passed before he gasped. “Thank heavens.” He rushed over to Lord Maroke, clutching a small vial in his hand.

“My lord, I must warn you,” he said hurriedly. “There’s a side effect. Once you take this, you may fall into a deep sleep—it depends on how much pain your body is in.”

“I don’t mind,” Lord Maroke replied through a wince, his voice strained.

“Here, my lord,” Greyson said, offering it to him. “Take this.”

Lord Maroke opened his eyes to find Greyson standing over him, holding out a spoon filled with a white powdered substance. Without hesitation, he leaned forward and took it into his mouth, swallowing it in one swift motion.

As soon as he released the spoon, the effects began to take hold. A strange heaviness spread through his limbs.

His senses dulled. Bit by bit, his body began to shut down, a creeping numbness overtaking him.

“How do you feel, my lord?” Greyson’s voice reached him, distant and muffled, as though spoken from the end of a long tunnel.

“Fine,” Lord Maroke managed to reply, though it took more effort than he expected. “I’m…fine.”

***

It had been three days since the incident with Lord Maroke. Kamora’s bundle of nerves had multiplied since that day, affecting even her activities with Jarosh.

“This is the third time today that you’ve spaced out,” Jarosh said from atop his bed. He lay flat on his belly, swinging his feet gently in the air as he leaned his chest against his folded fists. A book lay open in front of him.

Kamora, on the other hand, was folding some clothes she had washed earlier that day. “Forgive me, my lord,” she said, sitting up straight and clearing her throat.

She began folding the clothes with all seriousness, but her hands still shook as the thoughts that had plagued her for the past few days slowly crept in.

Was it over? Why hadn’t he made an appearance since? It had to be bad because he hadn’t even made time for Jarosh.

Jarosh sighed and turned another page of his book. “Don’t worry, he won’t do anything to you.”

“What do you mean, my lord?”

“My father,” Jarosh stared dryly. “He won’t do anything to you. I won’t allow it.”

Kamora forced a smile on her face. “I am so thankful that you wish to protect me, Your Highness, but you must understand that he is the lord of this manor. Whatever he says goes. So please do not fight him if that is the case.”

And she so much wished it wasn’t.

It was almost funny, now that she thought about it. If everything turned out well, this might end up being the very situation that helped her make up her mind.

Just a few days ago, she had been seriously considering leaving the manor after what she heard from Gwen. Even then, she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to part ways with the young Lord.

Her conversation with Gwen had only deepened her uncertainty. But now, with the choice placed clearly before her, she realized something important—she didn’t want to leave.

Somewhere along the way, she had grown fond of the manor and the people within it. She couldn’t leave.

Jarosh sighed again and sat up on the bed, brushing away invisible wrinkles.

“Even if he has the thought, he can’t fire you for no reason. It’s not your fault.”

“My lord, I fell on your father. I—I touched him.”

“And so what?”

Kamora was dumbfounded.

“My father didn’t seem to mind it.” Jarosh shrugged.

Kamora’s eyes twitched. She wasn’t sure if Jarosh was purposely acting obtuse, but the hurried way his father ran out of the garden proved otherwise to what he thought was true.

“He won’t force you out of the manor, trust me. It was I who pushed you, so I’d defend you,” he said dryly, going back to his book.

Kamora gasped. “My lord, why will you do that?”

She was happy that Jarosh was beginning to act freely in front of her and his father, but she wasn’t sure she was ready to face his mischief as a child. She never even expected it.

“What?” He shrugged, not facing her. “You guys were staring into each other’s eyes for such a long time; I feared you had forgotten all about me.”

A deep wave of embarrassment washed over Kamora, her cheeks flushing pink. She quickly returned to her work, avoiding the young Lord’s gaze.

“You know,” he continued, “I won’t mind if you both end up together.”

She reddened even further. “My lord, stop saying things like that. I can actually lose my job because of it.”

“Well, it’s just the two of us here.” He gave a light shrug, then remained quiet.

Kamora’s mind was in shambles. After Jarosh’s confessions, she no longer knew what to feel.

As she folded clothes, lost in thought, a sudden knock at the door pulled her from her reverie. She quickly stood and walked over to open it—only to find Greyson standing there, much to her surprise.

“Good day,” she said, bowing slightly as she opened the door further for him.

Greyson walked inside, greeted the young Lord, then faced Kamora.

“Lord Maroke asked that I remind you about the meeting the princess had arranged for the young lord.”

“Oh,” she said, nodding gently. “He told me that he would remind me should the day come.”

“Unfortunately, he can’t, as he is currently swamped with work,” Greyson replied almost immediately.

Kamora glanced at Jarosh, who gave her a shrug.

“What meeting are you talking about?” he asked.

“Princess Amara is organizing a playdate for her younger brother, who is about the same age as you,” Greyson answered.

“She is also inviting several nobles from different families. Your father thought this would be a good opportunity for you to make friends.”

“Father never bothered about things like this before, and I was sure that he never liked the princess—’

Greyson cut in. “My lord, please do not say things like this outside.”

“What? It’s just the three of us here,” Jarosh shrugged again. “Besides, what changed his mind?”

“I wish I knew, my lord. Your father is the only one who can answer you. Sadly, he is currently occupied.”

“When is the date?” Kamora asked.

“Five days from now. Claudia will help teach you proper palace etiquette. You will be going there as Jarosh’s guardian.”

“I don’t want to go,” Jarosh grumbled, sitting up from where he lay. “I’ll be surrounded by a bunch of tiny idiots.”

“My lord, don’t forget that you are also tiny,” Kamora teased, incensing him further. “Besides, you shouldn’t insult them if you haven’t met them yet. Who knows, you might actually make a friend there.”

Jarosh huffed and turned his head away.

Kamora faced Greyson. “Thank you for telling me this. When will I begin my training with Claudia?”

“I’d advise that you do that as soon as possible,” Greyson replied. “I believe she will fix a perfect time for you.”