Chapter 51: Chapter 51

KAMORA

Kamora had been assigned to clean Lord Maroke’s office. According to Petal, that was a job Claudia only gave to someone she could fully trust.

She didn’t understand why Kamora had gotten the job, considering Kamora hadn’t stayed in the manor as long as the other maids. Petal had also wondered about the same thing.

Fortunately, whenever she cleaned the study, Lord Maroke was never around. She had gotten comfortable with it until one day, while she was wiping dust from the shelves in the study, Lord Maroke majestically walked in.

The number of times she had seen this man could be counted on one hand, but each time, he never failed to take her breath away. His mysterious and dark aura drew people’s attention to him, even though she suspected he never wanted that.

He always looked indifferent; not a flicker of emotion had ever passed across his face. Kamora wondered if he had ever smiled in his life.

She bowed, greeting him, and he simply acknowledged her with a single nod. She then went back to her work, feeling tense, but as time went on, she slowly got used to the quiet.

It was not often that Lord Maroke returned while she was cleaning his office, but for the next few days, his presence was more frequent than she had expected. They fell into their usual routine of silence: her cleaning, and him going through documents.

The ruffle of paper and the swish of the broom were the only sounds being made. It was strangely peaceful.

One day, Lord Maroke broke the silence. “You,” he asked her, “are you well treated in the manor?”

Kamora paused, the air hanging in her chest. Did he just ask after her?

Was it possible that he was even concerned about her? This man who was the perfect embodiment of indifference?

“I am well,” she replied, forcing herself back to her senses. “Thank you so much, sir.”

“Hmm,” he grunted, then went back to his work.

That encounter made her whole day beautiful. Weeks turned to months, and before anyone could tell, Kamora had spent almost a year in Maroke Manor.

Her powers had grown stronger. Kamora had always asked Petal to introduce her to her hidden tutor, but each time, Petal gave one excuse or another.

Still, Kamora didn’t give up. She put all her focus and energy into learning healing and poisonous potions.

According to Petal, most witches preferred curses, and just a few of them managed to learn how to heal people. That was why witches’ healing potions went for a huge amount.

Even people who detested witches couldn’t help but seek out their potions. Seeing this as a lucrative business opportunity, Kamora made sure to study very well.

Kamora’s relationship with Lord Maroke had taken an unexpected turn. What began as a simple bond between master and servant had grown into something deeper—at least on her part.

It was almost impossible to spend so much quiet, intimate time around him and not fall in love. He had been her savior, and that alone made him mean the world to her.

Still, Kamora kept her feelings hidden. Someone like her could never belong in his world.

If he were the sky, she was the soil buried deep beneath the earth. And now, the princess had set her sights on him.

Though he didn’t seem interested, no wise man would choose someone like Kamora over royalty. So, she settled for the only thing she could have: watching him from afar.

On this day, Kamora was arranging the documents scattered atop Lord Maroke’s desk. He had always been a neat man, so the image was a surprising one for Kamora.

“My lord, isn’t it possible for Greyson to help you with some of these? It looks like it is too much of a hassle.”

“I’m used to it,” Lord Maroke answered, indifferent.

To others, it might seem like a rude reply, but Kamora had come to understand that was just the way he was.

“Still,” she urged, “it shouldn’t be something you should be doing just because you can. You have an assistant. Let him help you with it.”

That was bold of her, and she knew it, but she couldn’t help but worry about him. Lord Maroke put down the material he was reading and glanced at her, his gaze indifferent as always.

“Okay. I’ll tell Greyson when he returns.”

Excited that he had actually listened, Kamora reached out and took the document from his hands, her fingers grazing his in the process. A spark shot up her arm, dancing through her chest and down to her toes.

She didn’t dare look up to see if he felt it too. Instead, she quietly straightened the papers with trembling hands, then turned and walked away.

She had barely moved past the table when she heard a heavy thud. Kamora turned around, and to her shock, saw Lord Maroke lying on the ground, groaning in pain.

That was the first time she had seen him exude any form of emotion. “My lord!” she screamed, running toward him.

“Please,” he grunted, his face scrunched in pain. “Don’t touch me.”

“How can I help, my lord?” she asked, horror etched on her face. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Call Greyson. Quickly.”

Kamora did that, and it took a painfully long time for Greyson to appear while she knelt next to Lord Maroke in tears. He remained still, though his face was clenched.

That was the first time seeing this much emotion on his face, and she didn’t like this one bit.

“Can you please give us some privacy?” Greyson asked, and Kamora stood up, looking hesitantly at Lord Maroke as she walked out.

She remained outside the room, pacing up and down as she waited for Greyson to come out and tell her Lord Maroke’s condition.

“You should go back to your room,” Claudia had said.

She also had come after hearing of the accident. “I can take over from here.”

“Thank you,” Kamora said, giving her a slight bow. “But I don’t think I’d be able to rest well until I know what’s wrong with him.”

Claudia didn’t push and let her resume her pacing. About an hour later, Greyson walked out of Lord Maroke’s study, weary lines etched on his face.

“He is stable,” he said simply, passing Claudia a meaningful glance.

Kamora let out a sigh of relief, collapsing on the floor. “I don’t know what happened,” she said.

“One minute he was okay, and then the next he wasn’t.”

“It’s all well now,” Greyson said comfortingly, and she looked up at him. “He just needs to rest for a while, then he’ll be okay.”

“Will he be comfortable resting in his study? Shouldn’t he be in his room instead?”

“Don’t worry about that,” Claudia replied gently. “You should rest too. It’s been a long day.”

Kamora nodded and quietly returned to her room, closing the door behind her with a soft click.

Thankfully, her roommates weren’t back yet, and the silence offered her a rare moment of peace. She sank to the floor, letting the quiet settle around her like a blanket.

Moments later, Petal entered, her eyes wide with concern. She crossed the room quickly and sat beside Kamora on the floor.

“Are you okay?” she asked in a hushed voice. “I heard the news.”

Kamora blinked, startled. “It’s already spread through the manor?”

Petal shook her head, offering a small, reassuring smile. “No, not exactly. I just happened to overhear Lord Greyson speaking with Head Maid Claudia. They sounded…worried. Apparently, nothing like this has happened since the day he turned.”

“Turned?” Kamora echoed, her brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

Petal hesitated, then let out a quiet sigh. “Maroke Manor is full of secrets, Kamora. Every generation buries more of them, leaving the next with even heavier ones to carry. There’s one secret in particular—something only a few people are ever allowed to know. I only found out by accident…overheard it by pure chance.”

“What is it?”

“Haven’t you ever wondered why Lord Maroke has never shown any emotion since you met him?”

Kamora frowned, shaking her head in confusion. “I thought that was just his personality.”

“Oh, rumors have it that he was very lively as a child, up until the year he turned twenty. Then it happened. The curse.”

Kamora’s eyes widened in shock, her hand flying to her chest. “A curse?” she whispered, like the very word was a taboo.

Petal nodded. “Most people don’t know the details, but Lord Maroke’s ancestor had a huge fight with a witch, who then cursed him and his future generations to never be able to show emotions, even pain, when they are physically hurt. From the day they turn twenty till the day they shall die, indifference will be their safe haven, and should they perchance feel any emotion during that time frame, their heart shall feel like it’s about to combust, tearing apart and fixing itself repeatedly.”

Kamora winced, wondering what Lord Maroke’s ancestor had done to incur the witch’s ire. But the story also brought with it new information, one that Kamora feared for its outcome.

“So, that means the Maroke Manor is not on good terms with witches?”

“No one is on good terms with witches,” Petal pointed out. “But even then, that is just because of a stereotype.”

She continued, “Those with the Maroke bloodline are the ones who directly suffer from the consequences of dealing with a witch. They have a front-row seat to how destructive a witch’s power can be.”

“If everyone isn’t on good terms with witches, members of the Maroke family absolutely abhor them.”