Author's Note: If any of you noticed some formatting or typo errors earlier, that would be because I had my mom post my chapter, since I was out of town celebrating my 19th birthday 🎉
In honor of that, I present you, my lovely readers, with an extra long chapter 💖

***

A low 'hmm' rumbled in his chest. "Strange."

She gripped fistfuls of her skirt and tried to calm her sporadic breathing. "What? What is it?"

"Nothing of concern." He smoothed the salve across her back with practiced movements. "I simply expected the swelling to go down sooner. It doesn't appear changed from the other day."

Numbing tingles marched across her skin.

"Why? Is something wrong?"

If she told Viltus of her curse, would he ever believe her? She stifled a snort. Why would he? She barely believed it herself.

"Carissa?"

The least she could do was try to tell him. Even if he didn't believe her, it had to be better than if he discovered she'd lied. "Yes. Yes, there is."

The brush of his fingers against her back slowed. "What's wrong?"

She swallowed thickly, the words lodged in her throat.

Viltus tugged her into a sitting position and turned her to face him. "What is it? You can trust me."

"I do trust you. But that's not the problem."

"Then what is?"

"You won't believe me."

He frowned. "Of course I'll believe you."

She shook her head. "If you don't believe in the King having magical powers, you won't believe what I have to tell you."

His expression twisted in confusion as he leaned back to study her. "What is it?" The blue in his eyes hardened to steel, as if he were shielding himself.

If she didn't tell him now, she doubted she'd ever have the courage to. "I'm cursed."

His face suddenly slackened before he released a burst of laughter. Which quickly faded when she continued to stare at him. "Carissa?"

"That's why my parents were always so overprotective—because I was cursed. I can't heal myself. The cuts I receive are permanent."

"Carissa..." He clasped her shoulder. "If you couldn't heal at all, you'd have bleed out by some small cut long ago, and I'm sure they were protective because they loved you."

She jerked from his touch. Was he trying to persuade her that she wasn't cursed? She pursed her lips. Not that she blamed him. She'd spent most of her life trying to do the same. She studied his relaxed expression, his pleading gaze. He wasn't going to be convinced.

"Would you finish applying salve to my back, so I can retire? My days begin early, and I'd rather not be tired." She turned her back to him.

"Don't be upset, Carissa."

She shrugged. "I'm not—" a lie "—but when you discover my words to be true, don't you dare accuse me of not trusting you or being like Elisa."

He fell silent before releasing a slow breath. "Carissa, it's been only a day. It still has time to heal. And how do you know about this curse?"

"It's what my parents have always told me."

"Have you ever asked them how or why you have the curse?"

Her jaw stiffened. "No."

"You don't think Elon told them, do you?"

She didn't speak.

"Have you ever wondered if they're wrong?" She had for her entire life. "Or that they're using your fear to control you?"

Would her parents trick her? "Why would they do that?"

"Maybe they didn't. Maybe this is Elon's fault."

She'd wondered the same thing herself a thimbleful of hours ago...

"Why don't we wait for a few days and see?"

Her gaze dropped to her lap, and she nodded. Perhaps Viltus was right. She could just be a slow healer.

His lips whispered across her cheek, and her breath caught as she resisted the urge to lean into his touch. "I'm sure you'll heal perfectly—just as any normal person would."

Normal. What she wouldn't give to be the epitome of that word, to be free of any betrothals or curses—whether they were concocted or real.

***

She awoke to the rustle and whisper of paper. Infantile sunbeams slipped through the window to graze her cheek. A sigh tore away from her lips.

Time to rise and return to her work, where jealous waitresses would torment her, the Cook's beady eyes would follow in her wake, bidding his time until she misstepped, and the little boy would return her kindness with suspicion.

She pushed against the cot to sit upright and stretched. Fire ignited across her back, and she dropped her arms. Her body seemed to have grown heavier today than yesterday. Would it really be so bad to not appear at the pub that day?

Her tightening stomach told her it would. After seeing the flour that had barely dusted the bottom of the barrel, she'd decided to forgo dinner last night.

She peeled her covers away and slid her feet to the floor.

Viltus was already up, seated on a bench as he rifled through papers.

Paper? She hadn't seen it before. What was Viltus doing with new paper when they were nearly starving? She blinked the bleariness from her eyes, until she could make out the swooping letters of darkest ink, the creamy softness of the parchment, and the brilliant gold lines woven around the border.

A lump of ice lodged itself in her throat, its numbing chill spreading from her heart outwards. If those were the letters she thought they were, it seemed her secret had been unveiled.

Viltus' gaze cut to her. "You're awake, I see."

She couldn't rip her gaze from the slightly creased letters he held in his hands.

"Ah, you're wondering about these—" he waved the letters "—aren't you?" His smile was tight. "So was I."

Her chest swelled with much-needed air. "Viltus—"

"This was why you were always clinging to your satchel, wasn't it?"

Heat flared across her skin. She wanted to berate him for invading her privacy, demand he listen to her explanation, but her anger slipped through her fingers before she could catch it. Instead, a deep weariness settled into her bones. "What do you know?"

"I know about this supposed 'curse,' your betrothal, everything."

She combed her fingers through her hair until they snagged on a tangle. "Why were you reading them?"

His lips tightened. "Truthfully, I was hoping to find more about this 'curse' your parents claimed you had. I thought these letters were from your parents—until I saw the parchment."

She nodded, and silence settled over them. She would wait until he asked her for an explanation. Arguing was a waste of time and emotion, and she was done being a participant of it.

"Nothing to say?" His eyebrows rose. "If you've kept his letters since you were twelve, you must be quite taken with him."

"Instead of provoking a response from me, you could just ask."

"Like you did with—" He drew a shuddering breath and stopped.

"I'm sorry for what I assumed about Elisa and the things I said, but that's in the past. If you have a question, ask."

He raked his fingers through his curls. "You're right, Carissa. I–I'm—"

"Yes?" She smiled and leaned forward, until the skin stretching across her back stung.

His eyes narrowed, but a smirk played across his lips. "I'm sorry. There? Satisfied?"

She nodded. "Quite."

His gaze dropped to the letters. "You truly seemed to be wary of the King. So why keep the letters?"

"I was hoping to sell them."

The corner of his mouth hitched upwards. "Truly?"

She nodded. "After that first letter, I stopped reading his letters. I kept them, because my parents forbid me to burn them, and I hoped I could sell them one day."

He ran his thumbs across the loops and swirls of the King's writing. "In the letters, it doesn't sound as though he intended to make you his mistress."

She hugged her arms to her chest. "He intended to make me his wife... but he never came for me. I was well past marriageable age, and I couldn't stand the questioning glances from the other girls my age who were wedded. I hated the thought of waiting for someone who would never come or had forgotten about me. He made me feel... like I wasn't good enough." Her cheeks warmed, and she pressed her folded arms against her chest. She'd never spoken to her parents of this, knowing it wouldn't be received well with their ardent admiration for Elon. Voicing her thoughts now left her feeling strangely bare, like she'd ripped a layer of her own protection away.

Viltus seated himself closer to her and cupped her shoulder. "So you ran."

She nodded. "If you want me to go elsewhere, I don't blame you."

He shook his head. "I knew if it was discovered I'd housed you, I'd could potentially be in trouble with the King—long before now. I don't believe this changes anything."

"Even between us?" She darted a glance at his expression.

His ocean blue eyes had warmed, from turbulent waves at night to gentle ripples beneath a tropical sun. "Especially not between us. Though I am curious: if he's supposedly forgotten you or doesn't care, why do you fear him so?"

She shrugged. "Perhaps I have nothing to fear, but I'd like to be cautious. I worry that if he knew I'd stopped waiting for him—even if he never intended to come—he'd be angered."

Viltus nodded. "Nobility often do whatever suits their arbitrary whims."

"Even lie about one's possession of a curse?"

"Most definitely." He squeezed her shoulder before his hand fell away. "Please don't base your fears off of something Elon claims."

She nodded, her gaze dipping to her cut finger. The bleeding had stopped, which meant she indeed was capable of healing. Either that wasn't her curse or she wasn't cursed at all, as Viltus said. As to why it hadn't scarred, surely there was a reasonable explanation. "Very well." She rose, her dress rustling. "I'd best go outside to wait for the water boy. I wouldn't want to make a late appearance at the pub."

Viltus' jaw hardened. "I wouldn't mind if you did—or if you never worked there again." He stood, so only a fine sheet of air separated them.

She slid her palm along his jaw, his stubble rasping against her skin. "You know that's not an option."

He caught her hand with his. "Yes, I know." He turned his head to nuzzle her palm with his lips. "But I still wish you could stay." His words felt hot against her skin. "Please don't give away so much of yourself that there's nothing left."

"But that's selfish." She angled her chin up, preparing for his rebuttal.

"It is." He pressed her hand against his chest, until she felt the steady pulsing of his heart vibrating beneath her palm. "But if I am to be selfish in only one area, then let it be concerning you."

She lifted her eyebrows, hoping her expression hid how her heart had pooled into a hot puddle.

He smiled. "It seems you won't grant me this request easily." He tugged her forward and clasped her to him. "Do you require persuasion?"

She tilted her chin higher to meet his gaze. "Viltus, I will do what is necessary. You can't simply request—"

Though it was only their lips meeting, her entire body felt the caress of his mouth against hers. Her breaths grew tighter, and she pressed flush to him as her legs quivered. The heat lapping at her skin burned more intensely than any fire she'd neared.

As their lips separated, he cradled her against his chest, his firm arms wrapped snuggly around her waist. "Please?" His husky voice sent a shiver down her spine.

"Vilt—"

He brushed a kiss against her collarbone, before his lips glided across an exquisitely sensitive area where her neck sloped against her shoulder.

All air and strength fled her as she gripped his shirt more tightly. Though his caresses were unlike anything she'd felt, surely he didn't think he could use such sensations to manipulate her.

His shoulders slumped as he rested his head against her shoulder. "Carissa, please." He clung to her as if never letting her go would keep her safe.

His desperation seeped into her, and she ached for him as she'd never ached for anyone before. After all he'd done for her, if protecting herself alleviated his burdens even a little, she had to at least try.

She nodded. "Yes, Viltus. I will grant your request."

He lifted his head, and the tension fled his body. "Thank you." His lids fluttered close as he bent towards her once more.

She slipped from his relaxed grip.

He opened his eyes and frowned, seemingly offended she'd reject him.

She laughed. "I'm afraid I mustn't be delayed any longer."

He flashed her a smile. "Ah. You fear your ability to disentangle yourself from me."

"Not at all. I did just that mere seconds ago." She began backing away from him, lest he decide to test her words.

He pursed his lips before the cheeky smile returned. "If you give me another try, I promise you won't be able to leave so easily the second time."

She shook her head, barely suppressing the laughter bubbling to her lips. "You're trying to make me late, aren't you?"

He shrugged. "You can't blame me for trying."

Her back bumped into the door. She opened it. "Good day, Viltus."

"Good day, Carissa." His gaze softened. "Be safe."

She nodded and shut the door, only to discover minutes later that such a promise wasn't going to be so easy to keep.