Chapter 29: Chapter 29

KAMORA

Lord Maroke squeezed Kamora’s hand, but her gaze remained distant—lost in thought.

~Thank the heavens,~ he thought, ~for returning my memories.~ Now, he only needed to reclaim hers.

Jarosh’s voice trembled.

“Father…Kamora is truly my mother?”

Before Lord Maroke could respond, Kamora wrenched free and bolted from the room without a backward glance.

“She doesn’t want me?” Jarosh whispered, staring at the empty doorway dejectedly.

Lord Maroke pulled his son close.

“It’s not you she rejects,” he murmured into the boy’s hair. “It’s the past she can’t remember.”

He exhaled, tightening his embrace.

“Which is why I need your help.”

Jarosh stiffened.

“Father”—he eyed the arms encircling him—“you’ve never…held me like this.”

“Because I was cursed,” Lord Maroke said, releasing him.

“Listen carefully, son. Our ancestor wronged a witch. In retaliation, she doomed every male Maroke to lose all emotion at twenty—physically and mentally. No joy, no pain. Just…numbness.”

“Is that why you avoided me?” Jarosh’s voice cracked.

“I didn’t want you to see the hollow thing I’d become. I wanted you to enjoy your childhood, because when you reach my age, these memories might be the only thing keeping you sane.”

He cupped his son’s face.

“But because of your mother—Kamora—I found a way to temper the curse. She was my anchor. And now…” His thumb brushed Jarosh’s cheekbone.

“Now I’ll make it right.”

Jarosh swallowed hard.

“How did she lose her memories?”

“That,” Lord Maroke growled, “is what we must uncover.”

His mind flashed to the bloodstained letter he’d found years ago: Whoever had harmed Kamora had struck at ~him~ through her.

Jarosh interrupted, his eyes darkening. “Father, the princess recognized Kamora at the party. She struck her.”

Lord Maroke’s blood turned to ice.

“She dared—?”

“She knows something,” Jarosh cut in. “And if she harmed Mother, the king himself should hear of it. The Maroke name isn’t to be spat on—whether Kamora remembers us or not.”

Pride surged through Lord Maroke’s chest.

His son—~their~ son—was every bit Kamora’s child: fierce, principled, unbroken.

“You are correct, my son. I’d do as you say,” he vowed.

***

Kamora ran down the passage, her chest tight with fear and another emotion she couldn’t place.

She could barely breathe. It can’t be true. What Lord Maroke said can’t be true.

~You are my wife, Jarosh’s mother.~

Lord Maroke was her husband? Was the universe playing a horrid joke on her?

Gwen had warned her to be careful.

She had told her that Lord Maroke was someone not to be trusted. He caused her to lose her memory.

She had only stayed so far because of how close she is to Jarosh. But now, Lord Maroke is telling her that Jarosh is her son?

She ran straight to her quarters, and upon entering, shut the doors tightly behind her.

Fortunately, the room was empty.

She slowly slid down the door, holding her head in despair.

Her thoughts went back to the vision she had about her and Lord Maroke, and her heart clutched even further.

~I must be going insane.~

***

“So, what do I do now?” Jarosh asked. “It’s going to be a bit awkward between me and Kam—I mean, Mother.”

Lord Maroke smiled. “I guess you are happy that she is your mother.”

“I can’t deny that the news is still a bit surprising to me, but I am happy,” Jarosh said, smiling.

“Ever since I met her, I have always felt close to her.”

“You are your mother’s son. You would definitely have felt the blood connection between you both. You just didn’t know what it was,” Lord Maroke said.

“To be honest, I suspected that she was my mother. Ever since she told me her name.”

Lord Maroke frowned slightly. “Why?”

“Greyson once slipped up and told me the name of my mother. He must have thought that I didn’t catch on, so he never brought it up again. I was just slightly confused because she seemed not to know you.”

Jarosh stood straighter suddenly, his eyes bright with an idea.

“Father, surely now that you remember, you must have some sort of proof that Kamora is your wife. Something to make her believe that truly, I am her son.”

“I do,” Lord Maroke answered, shaking his head. “I know I placed it somewhere here. Give me an hour. I’ll find it.”

***

Somewhere far from the Maroke manor, in a room covered with gold and silver, was the princess. Her eyes blazed with fury.

She lay on her huge bed lined with velvet silk sheets, and around her were different instruments strewn about in broken chaos.

Her servants knelt beside her, shivering in fear and bleeding from their heads, and not a sound aside from the princess’s furious breathing was made.

“I can’t believe she is back,” she said, her voice shrill, a stark difference from the calm demeanor she had shown earlier during the tea party.

“Just when I think I finally have a chance, she returns?!”

Her servants shivered from the sheer venom in her voice but didn’t say anything.

The princess, for all her beauty and glory, possessed a behavior meant for the vilest of persons.

Her elegance did well to hide her true colors, and only a small few knew just how evil she was.

“ARRGGHH!!!” she screamed, dragging her hands through her hair madly.

“Why does this happen when I am so close to having him? Why?!”

She stood up from her bed and began pacing around, biting her fingers in a crazed frenzy.

“Send for that girl!” she ordered suddenly.

“She has a lot of explaining to do.”

A servant quickly stood and bowed. He went to do as ordered, apparently knowing who the princess sought.

A short while passed, and a woman was dragged into the princess’s chambers.

The princess, her eyes now on her guest, walked toward her and gave her a harsh slap. The force of the hit caused the woman to fall to the ground.

“Why is your sister alive?”

Gwen sat up straight, spitting out blood and blowing tendrils of hair away from her eyes.

She then quickly went on her knees and bowed.

“Answer me!” the princess screamed.

“I do not know, my lady. I also just recently found out.”

“You recently found out? And it never dawned on you to tell me?”

Gwen gulped, drops of sweat gathering on her forehead.

The princess took in a deep breath, taking on the appearance of one who has calm under her control.

She then opened her eyes and stared at the green-haired woman kneeling before her.

“Why is she back in that house?”

“She is working as a maid, my lady.”

“A maid?” the princess asked, now curious.

“Yes,” Gwen answered quickly. “She and Lord Maroke seem to have lost their memories about each other.”

The princess stared for a while, then a slow smile appeared on her face.

“Interesting,” she chuckled, then exploded into a full-blown cackle.

“Wow, so I was worried for nothing. The bitch really is working as a servant. Imagine being a maid to your own husband and son.”

She walked away from Gwen and headed straight toward her bed. Sitting down gently by the edge, she sighed.

Her servants, seeing that she was in a better mood, quietly stood up and began to take care of the chaos surrounding them. They did well not to make a sound in order to avoid the princess’s flare-up again.

“I think I might have overexaggerated a bit. Perhaps it’s time I paid the Maroke manor a visit. I need to apologize for my wrongdoing.”

“My lady,” Gwen said hesitantly. “The young lord seems to be very close to Kamora.”

“That is a problem that can easily be fixed,” the princess said, grinning widely.

“I will prove to him that I am the best mother he will ever hope to have. It’s only a matter of time before I become part of his family. You there!” she said, pointing to the servant closest to her.

The servant quickly went on her knees and bowed, her body racked with fear.

“Prepare the best outfit for me. I want to appear stunning before Lord Maroke, so stunning all thoughts of Kamora will permanently disappear from his mind.”