Chapter 64: Chapter 64

KAMORA

Kamora wasn’t sure if it was fate or stubborn hope, but at last, there was color—just the faintest touch—on Lord Maroke’s face.

Barely noticeable to most, but she had been watching him all day. She saw it.

Greyson had gone out to gather the ingredients she’d asked for—a last attempt at a healing tonic to give her husband strength. But in her heart, Kamora feared it wouldn’t be enough. Not against the curse.

She sat by his side in silence, gently brushing a stray tendril of hair from his brow.

His skin was still too cold. The curse… It worried her.

The first part she could decipher. But the second—the part that could undo it—remained maddeningly out of reach.

Kamora sighed, rising stiffly to stretch. She’d been seated for hours.

The ache in her back was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Still, that faint trace of color gave her hope. A fragile, flickering thing—but hope, nonetheless.

A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.

“Come in,” she called, expecting Greyson.

“You returned quickly—” she began, but her voice caught as the door swung open.

A stranger stepped confidently into the room.

Her body tensed. She took a step toward him, instinctively placing herself between the intruder and her husband.

“Who are you?” she demanded.

The man smiled lazily, his eyes sweeping the room with mocking disinterest.

“Such a devoted wife,” he said.

Kamora’s pulse quickened. “How did you get in here?”

“I walked,” he said with a shrug, as if entering a nobleman’s chamber uninvited was no more troubling than a morning stroll.

The dim light played across his sharp features—angular, striking, almost too perfect, like a statue carved with cruel precision.

His smirk held menace, but it was the boredom in his eyes that unsettled her most.

“What do you want?” Kamora’s voice was level, but her fingers twitched behind her back, already gathering energy for a spell.

He tilted his head. “Want? Nothing really. I was simply sent here…to kill you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “The princess.”

“Bingo,” he said with a grin.

Kamora didn’t hesitate. She muttered the words of a spell and flung it toward him—but the magic struck him like wind against stone, dispersing without a trace.

The stranger chuckled, brushing invisible lint from his sleeve.

“Really? That was it?”

Kamora’s heart thudded as she stepped more firmly in front of her husband. “I won’t let you harm him.”

“Such loyalty,” he said, his smile widening. “Admirable. But futile. You’ll die anyway.”

His gaze flicked toward Lord Maroke, his expression shifting to something contemplative.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Why do you care?” she snapped.

“As I said,” he murmured, “your husband intrigues me.”

He took a step forward.

Kamora didn’t move, but her stance tightened.

“Like your husband, I also come from a unique lineage,” he said. “Our ancestors weren’t exactly on friendly terms. It’s a tale passed down through generations.”

Kamora’s heart thudded. Her thoughts raced to the curse.

Could it be? Could she have stumbled upon the so-called secret enemy of her husband’s ancestor?

“If this is about their feud, why involve us? They’re both long dead,” she said, her voice tight.

The stranger sighed dramatically.

“I’m bored. What better way to pass the time?” He glanced at his nails, feigning indifference.

“Is that why you’re working for the princess?” she challenged. “To kill a noble lord? You won’t get away with this. She won’t protect you.”

“Didn’t you hear me, dear Kamora?” he asked, his voice dripping with mockery.

Her blood ran cold. How did he know her name?

“I’m not here to kill your husband,” he continued, his smirk now edged with menace. “I’m here to end your life. It’s a pity, really. You seem like fun.”

“You won’t get away with it,” she spat.

“Oh, I can. I already have.”

Confusion flickered across her face. “What do you mean?”

“It’s no coincidence you lost your memories for eight years,” he said with a wicked grin. “Or that no one in this manor remembers who you are. Haven’t you thought it strange? Not my best work, but good enough.”

Kamora’s eyes widened as recognition dawned.

“You’re the Glamour Fae!”

He threw back his head and laughed—a bone-chilling sound that echoed in the room.

“Fae? That’s rich,” he sneered. “No, my dear. I’m a witch. Just like you.”

Before Kamora could react, every breakable object in the room shattered. The sound of glass and porcelain crashing to the floor drowned out her thoughts.

***

Kamora clutched at her chest, willing herself to be calm. Fear seized her, icy and unrelenting, curling around her lungs and tightening with every breath.

Her heart hammered, each beat loud and jarring in the silence, but she had to be strong—for her husband and her son’s sake.

“Once upon a time, my ancestor fell in love with a Maroke,” he began, his tone light.

He took a step closer to the bed, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots.

“Gave everything she owned—body and soul—to him. Who would have thought that he’d abandon her because she was beneath his station?”

He paused, tilting his head as he studied Lord Maroke’s still form.

“I wonder how he would react, knowing a descendant of his actually married a witch.” A cruel smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Talk about a full circle.”

Kamora gasped. Her heart thudded as the weight of his words crashed over her. The pieces finally slid into place.

“She was the one who cursed him,” she breathed, her voice trembling with dawning horror.

His eyes widened slightly, the flicker of surprise in them brief but telling.

“Oh, so you know the story?” he said, arching a brow. “Now you appear even more interesting to me, Kamora.”

He took another step toward her, his voice dipping.

“Were you, perchance, the one who helped him break the curse? He seemed like a normal person at the ball. I had thought someone from my bloodline would be the only one who could help him break it.”

His gaze swept to Lord Maroke’s still form, lying motionless on the bed, barely rising with breath.

Shadows danced across his face as the low lantern flickered, casting the room in an eerie haze.

“Is this a side effect of removing it?” he murmured, more to himself now. “I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.”

Kamora wasn’t surprised to hear that he had been at the ball. He was working for the princess; of course, he’d have an invitation.

But from all his taunts, she had finally gleaned a few important truths: firstly, for reasons that concerned him alone, he was curious about the curse.

Secondly, he suspected the curse had been broken and now believed she was the one responsible. Finally, and most importantly, he claimed only someone from his bloodline could break it.

That was the key all along—~the one who wasn’t invited~.

“My ancestor placed a very powerful curse on the Maroke bloodline,” he said, his voice laced with a twisted pride.

“Contrary to popular belief, it’s not easy to curse generation after generation. So imagine my surprise to note that your husband had solved what his ancestors could not.”

“This is why you are helping the princess?” Kamora asked, her voice shaking. “Because you are curious about the curse?”

“Isn’t it majestic? To be that powerful as to destroy a whole generational line?” His gaze turned maddening, an unsettling gleam in his eyes.

His grin, sharp and sinister, sent a chill down Kamora’s spine. “Can you really blame me for wanting that power?”

“Why did you attack me then? Why wipe out our memories?” Her fear began to give way to anger, simmering hot beneath her words.

For eight long years, she had suffered because some deranged man was curious about a curse.

“You can call it an experiment,” he replied nonchalantly, waving a hand as though her suffering was nothing more than an unfortunate inconvenience.

“I wanted to see if perhaps you had any effect on his curse. But after you disappeared and he remained the same, I was…disappointed. Now, I am not so sure. I did so along with your friend, thinking neither of you would live to see the next day. Who would have thought? Anyway, the princess, seeing what I had done, asked me to wipe the memories of everyone in the manor. She wanted to protect her good image.”

Kamora’s mind raced, her thoughts darting about. Her anger threatened to overtake her, but she forced herself to focus.

It was obvious he was more powerful than she was; his experience with magic far outstripped her own. But if she wanted to protect her husband, she had to find a way to overpower him, even if only briefly.

Suddenly, an idea sparked, and her eyes sharpened with resolve. She needed to keep the man distracted to make her plan work.

Weaving the start of a spell in her mind, she began to speak.

“I never knew the princess was that dumb. If I die, she will be the first suspect,” her voice was calm, almost taunting, though every nerve in her body screamed at her to run.

He shrugged. His expression was indifferent.

“I do not think she is smart either, but I am being paid, so what can I say?” His tone was casual, but his gaze remained sharp, watching her every move.

“My husband can pay you twice the amount. What is it? Why must you ruin us?”

“I’m so sorry,” he replied mockingly, “but—”

“Mother?” The door slowly creaked open, and Jarosh walked in, alarm and confusion stark on his young face.

The man turned his attention to the boy. His curiosity was visibly piqued.

Kamora’s heart nearly stopped, fear clawing at her chest like a wild animal. Every instinct screamed at her to shield her son, but she knew this was her moment.

Seizing the opportunity, she struck.

A blinding light exploded between them.

The air around her crackled with energy, sharp and buzzing, as though the very fabric of reality trembled under the force of her magic.

Kamora felt a searing pain rip through her chest, but she held on, pouring every ounce of her strength into the spell as she bound her soul with the killer’s.