Chapter 45: Chapter 45

KAMORA

Night had fallen.

Kamora had regained some of her strength, though walking was still a struggle. She leaned against Lord Maroke for support as he guided her toward the garden—the place she had chosen to carry out the act.

Jarosh had woken earlier. He didn’t fully understand what was happening, but the joy of seeing his mother awake and moving was enough. For now, that was all he needed.

Lord Maroke appeared composed on the outside, but inside, his thoughts clashed like a storm. Anxiety and suspense coiled tightly in his chest—so thick it felt like it could suffocate him. But he forced himself to stay calm.

He couldn’t afford to make another mistake. His wife was a witch. Correction, half witch.

And she hadn’t told him because she feared he’d abandon her. When she had said that, words couldn’t express the shame he felt.

He never should have doubted her, even for a moment. Before she went missing, he was this close to breaking his curse.

Someone who was against him would never do that. They were in the garden, directly under the full moon.

Everyone in the manor had retreated to their rooms, making everywhere silent and empty. Kamora closed her eyes and looked up, smiling slightly as the moon’s rays touched her face.

Her arm was in the crook of his, and she leaned heavily on him. She smelled like the spices used to treat her wounds, and Lord Maroke felt another stirring of anger at what she had told him earlier.

She had never left him. Not now, not eight years ago.

She had almost been killed. Twice. And on the princess’s order.

He truly never knew the depths of the princess’s obsession with him.

“It is time,” Kamora whispered, bringing him out of his musing.

Greyson, who stood behind them with Jarosh, brought him to the middle of the garden, right in front of Kamora.

She motioned to the bowl filled with the pasty substance made from the ingredients Kamora had asked for. Greyson gave it to her, and she held onto it with her free hand.

“Darling,” she said to Jarosh, who blushed at the endearment. “I’ll need you to take off all your clothes.”

His shyness was replaced by confusion. “Why?”

“When you were kidnapped, you were given something harmful. I want to remove it from your body.”

Jarosh gave her a single nod and then did as she said. Lord Maroke was surprised.

He never expected her to be blunt about what happened to their son. But that was why they both were different.

Despite not seeing her son for eight years, she knew him better than anyone. Jarosh stripped until he was fully naked, not a single piece of cloth on him.

Kamora tried to move forward, and so Lord Maroke gently helped her. She raised a spoonful of the substance and asked Jarosh to swallow.

The young boy looked at it in distaste, the greenish-black color of the paste looking super eerie, but he did as told. “Ugh!” he exclaimed in disgust once he swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Don’t worry,” Kamora comforted him. “The rest will have to be applied on your body.”

Slowly, she bent to her knees with the help of Lord Maroke, who stood behind her lest she fall. Then, taking the paste by hand, she began rubbing it on Jarosh’s shoulders, arms, legs, and stomach.

She applied it tenderly, just as a mother would, and Lord Maroke looked at his son, who seemed to be enjoying the treatment despite how weird it was. As she began applying the second batch of it on Jarosh, Kamora began humming something under her breath.

The air surrounding them seemed to tense, and Jarosh did not look as comfortable as he had earlier. Her humming increased, moving at a faster tempo.

Lord Maroke strained his ears to hear what she was saying, but it was futile, as it seemed to be another language entirely. Though Kamora did not apply the paste on Jarosh’s face, his pallor had become similar to the substance’s horrid color.

“I don’t feel so good,” he whispered.

Kamora remained silent, continuing her humming at a more intense rate.

Suddenly, Jarosh turned around and hurled all the contents of his stomach. He kept vomiting, and Lord Maroke was scared that he’d empty the rest of his bowels.

Kamora gently patted his back, still humming in that strange language, when something strange happened. The paste she had applied all over Jarosh seemed to melt into his body, causing his pale face to become flushed with color.

He looked healthier—far healthier than even the time he was kidnapped. Judging from how wide Jarosh’s eyes were, Lord Maroke could tell that even his son was shocked.

Kamora, on the other hand, had spent the last of her strength. Her knees gave out beneath her—but Lord Maroke caught her just in time.

“What just happened?” Lord Maroke asked.

“Our son is now immune to any type of poison or sickness. Except if it is naturally caused, he will forever remain healthy,” Kamora replied.

“Really?” Jarosh whispered, having heard her.

Kamora smiled. “Yes, darling. Nothing can hurt you anymore.”

“I’ll take you to the room,” Lord Maroke said softly.

He knelt beside Kamora, sliding one arm beneath her knees and the other around her back. With steady strength, he lifted her into his arms.

She didn’t resist—only leaned into him, her face even paler than before, eyes fluttering shut from exhaustion. As Lord Maroke carried her out of the garden, Greyson stepped forward to help Jarosh dress.

He quietly handled the task while his lord disappeared into the night with Kamora in his arms.

“Are you okay?” he whispered to Kamora.

“I will be,” she answered, her voice, though weak, filled with determination.

“The princess wouldn’t be happy about this,” Lord Maroke found himself saying. “She promised to give me the antidote if I agreed to be one of her suitors.”

“Really?” Kamora answered, her eyes still closed. “Well, the heavens are still on my side after all.”

Lord Maroke raised a brow. “Do you have something planned? What is it?”

“I have but a simple thought,” Kamora said with a yawn. “Total destruction. The princess will regret messing with my family.”

“And Gwen?” Lord Maroke asked, but Kamora remained silent, fast asleep.