Chapter 60: Chapter 60

KAMORA

“So, it begins,” Kamora said as she walked in with her husband. Another person was announced as they both made their way to the middle of the ballroom, hiding themselves amongst the crowd.

Kamora glanced at the princess and watched as she searched the crowd, probably looking for them. Gwen had disappeared almost immediately after they were announced, and Kamora didn’t think she’d ever forget the expression on her face.

Horror. She had tried to kill her twice. Twice, Kamora had gotten out of it.

She wouldn’t let her have a third time. She would be the one doing the destroying this time around.

“The princess seems frantic,” her husband whispered next to her.

“Of course she’d be frantic. She just saw the woman she tried to kill twice hale and hearty.”

Lord Maroke chuckled. The both of them walked around the middle of the ballroom.

“There are a lot of nobles here,” Kamora noted, looking around. “I was expecting more bachelors.”

“It is a royal ball, so the royal family will have to use this to make some kind of statement. I wonder how the princess had planned it to be.”

Kamora’s eyes went back to the princess, who looked a bit more stable. She wasn’t looking over the crowd in search of them any longer, but she no longer possessed the calm demeanor she had earlier.

“While we wait for our chance, why don’t we use this opportunity to dance?” her husband suggested.

Kamora glanced at her husband, her gaze softening at the gentle smile etched across his face. “It’s been a long time since we danced,” she murmured.

“Indeed it has,” he replied. He extended a hand toward her, eyes gleaming with affection. “Will you grant me the honor, my lady?”

She placed her hand in his gently. “I would be pleased.”

He drew her in gently, one hand resting firmly at her waist as the other held hers. The music weaving through the ballroom was delicate and tender, a melody crafted to stir love and joy in the hearts of its listeners.

And Kamora felt both, in abundance. She had not been gifted many beautiful things in life.

But marrying Lord Maroke—that had been the first. And giving birth to Jarosh, her second.

Even when fear gripped her heart—fear of being discovered as a witch—he had stood by her, unwavering. He had seen her truth and stayed.

Now, she embraced her identity with pride, no longer shrinking beneath the weight of judgment. Not while he was at her side.

As he guided her in smooth, effortless steps, her eyes remained fixed on his. The world around them faded into a soft blur—just the music, his arms, and the certainty of love.

~Heavens~, she thought, ~I love this man.~ And she would do anything to protect him.

Leaning in, her voice barely above a whisper, she said, “Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Her smile was playful, teasing—but her eyes shimmered with sincerity.

Maroke returned the look, a matching smile tugging at his lips. But it was his eyes that answered her, overflowing with joy too profound for words.

“Why, my lady. I can’t remember you ever making such a declaration,” he replied teasingly.

“Well, you are lucky, as you have heard me today.”

“I apologize, but I didn’t hear you quite well.”

Kamora laughed, gently tapping his chest. “I love you, my husband. And I promise you, I will break your curse.”

Lord Maroke smiled. “I love you too, my wife. And even if you can’t break the curse, I am content just being like this. It is more than enough. More than I have ever hoped for.”

He leaned down and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her lips—tender and unhurried. It stole the strength from her knees, leaving her breathless in the best way.

“We are in public,” she murmured, a playful edge in her tone. “Don’t go doing things that stir such vivid imaginings in my head.”

Her cheeks flushed as she looked away, a shy smile curving her lips.

“And oh, daresay, may I ask what imaginations you have?” he whispered in her ear, his voice sending thrills down her spine.

Suddenly, a loud horn sounded, stopping all the activities in the ballroom. Everyone looked toward where the royal family was seated, anticipation hanging in the air.

The princess stood, all smiles and grace. Then she spoke in a gentle yet loud enough voice,

“Welcome, everyone, to my ball. I am honored and glad that you all graced me with your presence. I do not take this for granted,” she said, touching her hand to her chest.

“My wonderful parents decided to throw a ball for me, as it has been too long since the palace celebrated something this beautiful—’

“What are you doing here?” a harsh, familiar voice hissed beside Kamora.

She didn’t flinch. Instead, a smile tugged at her lips as she turned slowly.

“Oh, if it isn’t my lovely sister.”

The princess’s voice droned on in the background, her speech echoing through the ballroom. But Kamora no longer heard her. Her full attention was locked on the woman who had haunted her past.

Lord Maroke turned with her, his presence dark and intimidating. If Gwen wasn’t afraid of Kamora, she was certainly afraid of him.

A mistake—one she would soon regret.

“You’ve regained your memories,” Gwen said, her voice low and strained.

“Yes, dear sister,” Kamora replied, her tone smooth and cutting. “Every single one. Including the parts where you and the princess tried to kill me—twice.”

Gwen’s eyes widened in horror. She quickly glanced around, scanning the crowd to see if anyone had heard.

Kamora let out a mocking gasp. “Oh no. You don’t want anyone to hear? Then tell me—why did you come here?”

Gwen’s throat bobbed as she swallowed hard, her eyes flicking from Kamora to Lord Maroke and back again. Panic was setting in.

“Were you thinking you could finish the job?” Kamora continued, her voice soft but laced with steel. “I wonder how that would work out for your precious princess. You think my husband would let you get that far?”

At Gwen’s silence, Kamora stepped closer. Her heart pounded—not with fear, but with resolve.

“Or…was it him you planned to poison this time?” she whispered. “Just like you did to my son.”

Gwen’s face drained of color.

From the dais, the princess called out, “I have an announcement to make—’

“You’ll never win against her,” Gwen snapped, her voice tight. “You’re going to get yourself killed.”

Kamora’s grin turned wicked. “We’ll see.”

Before Gwen could react, Kamora muttered a sharp spell under her breath. A ripple of magic burst from her palm and struck Gwen squarely in the abdomen.

Gwen gasped, her body folding in on itself as she collapsed to the floor, trembling, her skin pale and clammy.

No one noticed. All eyes were on the royal announcement.

“You thought you were the only one with power?” Kamora said, her voice low and dangerous. “Think again.”

“Witch,” Gwen choked out, her eyes filled with real fear now. “You really are a witch.”

Kamora knelt beside her, her smile cold and resolute. “Thanks to you, I discovered what I am. And now—’ she leaned in, her voice a whisper, “—I’ve taken away everything you are.”

Gwen’s eyes widened further. “No—’

“Remember the pain you caused me. At Father’s house. After I was married. The humiliation, the fear, the hatred,” Kamora’s voice trembled, not with weakness, but with fury contained for far too long. “Now take all of it—and multiply it by three. That’s what you’ll feel for the next three days. If you can’t break the curse by then…you’ll die.”

From the front of the ballroom, the princess’s voice rang out: “The Royal Family and I formally request Lord Maroke’s acceptance of my marriage proposal!”

Gasps and murmurs swept through the crowd like wildfire.

On the floor, Gwen whimpered, reaching out weakly. “Please…Kamora…please.”

Kamora rose to her full height, looking down at her sister with cold finality. “That’s your lesson for trying to destroy what’s mine.”

Her gaze shifted to the dais, to the princess standing beneath the golden light of the chandeliers.

“And the princess,” she whispered, “is about to learn the same lesson.”