Bound to the cursed King

Chapter eight: The separation

Garrett did not follow me when I left the room.

That alone hurt more than I expected.

I walked the eastern corridor slowly, my footsteps echoing too loudly in the hollow space inside my chest. The spell still wrapped around me, bending attention away from my presence—but it did nothing to shield me from my thoughts.

She knew him.

Not the king.

Not the monster.

The man.

I pressed a hand against my ribs, where the bond pulsed uneasily, reacting to emotions I refused to give shape to.

Servants passed without seeing me. Guards paused, frowned, then moved on. The magic worked flawlessly.

Too flawlessly.

It made me feel like a ghost.

I stopped beside an arched window overlooking the inner gardens. Dawn was just beginning to break, pale light bleeding across the horizon and brushing the dew-covered hedges below.

This was what I was to Garrett, I realized.

Hidden.

Temporary.

Convenient.

The thought lodged painfully in my chest.

Footsteps sounded behind me.

I didn’t turn.

“You should not wander alone,” Garrett said quietly.

I closed my eyes.

So he had followed me—just not quickly enough to stop the ache from settling in.

“Lady Seraphine doesn’t seem to have that problem,” I replied before I could stop myself.

Silence stretched between us.

The bond tightened, a sharp warning that I’d struck something dangerous.

Garrett came to stand beside me, close but not touching. His presence was a familiar weight—steady, controlled, restrained.

“She is not under threat,” he said.

“And I am?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered immediately.

The certainty in his voice should have comforted me.

It didn’t.

“She spoke as if she’d stood where I’m standing now,” I said, staring out at the garden. “As if she knows how to reach you.”

Garrett’s gaze darkened.

“She thinks she does.”

A brittle laugh escaped me. “You didn’t deny it.”

His jaw tightened.

“She was useful,” he said. “Once.”

The word struck deeper than I expected.

Useful.

The bond flickered, uneasy and strained.

“Is that what I am too?” I asked quietly. “A shield? A spell? A solution to a problem you haven’t solved yet?”

Garrett turned fully toward me.

His presence pressed in, heavy with restraint and something far more dangerous beneath it.

“No,” he said.

I waited.

He didn’t elaborate.

Frustration flared, sharp and unwelcome.

“Then what am I to you?” I asked, finally looking at him.

For the first time since I’d met him, Garrett hesitated.

The silence that followed was deafening.

That was my answer.

I stepped back.

The bond protested—tightening painfully—but I ignored it.

“You don’t have to explain,” I said softly. “I understand.”

“You don’t,” he said sharply.

“I do,” I insisted. “You keep me hidden. You decide when I can be seen. You tell me when I’m safe and when I’m not. And yet—she walks in freely.”

“She is a mistake I have not yet corrected,” he snapped.

The edge in his voice startled me.

I shook my head.

“No,” I said quietly. “She is your past. And I am your secret.”

The words hung between us, heavy and unforgiving.

Garrett’s control slipped—for just a heartbeat.

Magic rippled through the corridor, rattling the windows and stirring the air like a warning.

“Do you think I enjoy this?” he demanded softly. “Do you think I enjoy hiding you away like something fragile?”

“Then don’t,” I said. “Let me leave.”

The bond screamed.

Garrett froze.

The idea clearly hadn’t occurred to him.

“You can’t,” he said finally.

“Why?” I challenged.

His gaze locked onto mine, fierce and unyielding.

“Because the moment you walk out of my protection,” he said, “every enemy I have will smell blood.”

“Or,” I said, my voice trembling despite my resolve, “because you don’t want to see what I might choose if I wasn’t bound to you.”

That struck true.

Too true.

Garrett exhaled slowly, dragging a hand through his hair—an unguarded gesture that revealed just how close he was to losing control.

“She knows what I was,” he said quietly. “Not what I am.”

“And what are you now?” I asked.

His eyes searched mine, stripped of pretense.

“Someone who cannot afford to want you,” he admitted.

The honesty stole my breath.

“I don’t need to be wanted,” I said. “I need to be respected.”

The bond softened—aching, uncertain.

Garrett stepped closer, stopping just short of touching me.

“I have never hidden anyone to keep them small,” he said. “I hid you to keep you alive.”

“Intent doesn’t erase impact,” I replied.

His jaw clenched.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke.

Then Garrett straightened, rebuilding his walls with visible effort.

“You should rest,” he said formally. “I will have quarters prepared where the spell will be strongest.”

The distance in his tone hurt more than his anger would have.

“As you command, my king,” I said.

The words tasted bitter.

I turned away before he could see the tears burning in my eyes.

Behind me, the bond pulsed—low, fractured, unresolved.

And somewhere deep within it, something dangerous began to form.

Not desire.

Not fear.

But a question neither of us was ready to answer.