Bound By His Curse

CHAPTER 5

SERAPHINA POV:

In the week following the charity gala, everything changed, yet nothing changed at all. We still lived under the same roof, still held to the terms of our one-year contract, still kept up the appearance of strangers in public. But the cold, heavy wall Cassian had built around himself began to crack, brick by brick, leaving space for something soft and unspoken to grow between us.

He no longer avoided me. Most mornings, I would find him already in the small sunlit breakfast room off the garden, waiting for me. He wouldn’t say much—just a quiet nod, or a simple Good morning—but it was more than I had ever gotten from him before. Sometimes he would bring me a book he thought I might like, or leave a small vase of fresh roses on the table, the same kind I tended every afternoon. Small, quiet gestures, ones that meant everything to me.

And he still sought me out when the pain came. It happened when he worked too late, or dealt with difficult business partners, or let stress get the better of him. He would find me, always with some flimsy excuse—asking for a document, or wanting my opinion on a charity project—and stand close enough that I could feel the tension rolling off him. All I had to do was touch his arm, or stand near him for a few minutes, and the pain would melt away, leaving him calm and steady again. We never spoke of it, never mentioned the curse or what I did for him, but it was our secret, our own quiet language that only we understood.

I thought things could stay like this—quiet, safe, peaceful—until the day a servant came to my rooms with news that made my stomach drop.

“Mr. Valemont, Mrs. Valemont,” she said, bowing her head. “Your family, Mr. and Mrs. De Lune and Miss Arabella, will be arriving tomorrow for a three-day visit.”

My hands trembled where I held my book. Of course they were coming. Arabella had been humiliated publicly at the gala, had been cut off and rejected by Cassian right in front of all our city’s elite. I knew her. She would never let that go. She would come here, determined to get her revenge, determined to take everything she believed was hers—including Cassian.

That evening, I found Cassian in his study, going over reports, his brow furrowed. He looked up the moment I stepped inside, closing his folder immediately, as if he knew I was upset.

“You heard,” he said, not a question.

I nodded, twisting the silver locket around my neck. “Arabella… she won’t let this go. She hates me. And after what you said at the gala… she’s angrier than ever. She’ll try to make trouble. She’ll try to ruin everything.”

Cassian stood up and walked around the desk, stopping right in front of me. For the first time, he reached out and touched my face, his fingers warm and gentle as he tilted my chin up to look at him. His dark eyes were steady, serious, and completely on my side.

“Let her try,” he said, his voice low and firm. “You are my wife, Seraphina. Not in name only, not just on paper. While you are here, while we are bound together, no one will hurt you. Not her. Not your father. No one. Do you understand?”

The way he said it, the way he looked at me, made my heart race so fast I could barely breathe. I nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, and he dropped his hand, but the warmth of his touch stayed on my skin long after he turned away.

The next afternoon, they arrived. My father walked in first, stern and proud, looking around the mansion with greedy eyes, calculating exactly how much wealth Cassian had. My mother followed, frail and quiet, barely glancing at me as she walked past. And then came Arabella, dressed in a tight, bright red dress that screamed for attention, her head held high, her eyes locking onto mine the second she entered, burning with cold rage.

The first day was a nightmare of polite smiles and sharp, hidden words. Arabella sat opposite me at dinner, talking loudly about how she had been the original choice for Cassian, about how well she knew his tastes, about how perfect they would have been together if only things had gone differently. She made snide remarks about my clothes, my quietness, my lack of anything she considered special. Father sat by, nodding along, reminding me more than once that I was here only to be obedient and useful, that I should be grateful for the life I had been given.

But every time they spoke, every time they tried to cut me down, Cassian stepped in. He corrected my father sharply when he spoke to me like I was property. He turned every one of Arabella’s words back on her, cool and calm, making her look foolish every time she tried to insult me. By the end of dinner, Arabella was red-faced and furious, and my father was quiet, realizing that Cassian was not the man he thought he was—one he could control, one who would let his wife be treated like dirt.

Later that evening, I was walking back to my rooms when I heard a low, pained sound coming from the end of the corridor. I knew that sound instantly.

I ran toward it, finding Cassian leaning against the wall in a dark, empty hallway, his head bowed, one hand pressed hard against his chest, his whole body shaking. The stress of the visit, of dealing with my father and Arabella, had triggered the curse, worse than I had ever seen it.

“Cassian,” I whispered, rushing to his side.

He looked up, his face pale and twisted with agony, sweat dripping down his forehead. “Go… go away… don’t… don’t see me like this…”

I didn’t listen. I stepped right into his space, pressing both hands firmly against his chest, just like I always did, leaning close so my presence wrapped around him completely. Within seconds, the shaking stopped, the pain faded from his eyes, his breathing slowed to a steady rhythm. The dark red glow of the amulet under his shirt dimmed, just like it always did.

But this time, as the pain left him, a sharp, dizzying wave of weakness washed over me. My vision blurred for a second, my knees buckling, and I had to lean against him to stay upright. Cassian caught me instantly, holding me by the shoulders, his eyes wide with shock and worry.

“Seraphina? What is it? What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, blinking to clear the spots from my eyes. “Nothing… I’m fine. Just… stood up too fast.”

He didn’t believe me. He held me closer, his expression dark and serious, like he was putting pieces of a puzzle together he hadn’t even considered before. “Every time you take the pain away… you get tired. You get weak. Doesn’t it?”

I looked away, not wanting to admit it. I had noticed it for weeks now. Every time I helped him, I felt a little more drained, a little more tired, like something was being pulled out of me, little by little. I had thought it was just my imagination. Now I knew it wasn’t.

“The curse doesn’t just take from me,” Cassian said quietly, his voice raw with realization. “It takes from you, too. You absorb the darkness, Seraphina. You take the pain into yourself to keep me alive. And it’s hurting you.”

Before I could answer, a soft footstep made us both look up. A servant was standing a few feet away, holding a small silver envelope, her eyes downcast.

“A note for you, Mrs. Valemont,” she said, holding it out.

I took it, my heart skipping a beat the second I saw the handwriting. It was Vince’s. I knew it instantly.

Seraphina, I need to see you. It’s important. I know everything about the curse. Meet me in the west garden at midnight. Please. It’s the only way to save both of you.

My hands trembled so hard the paper crumpled in my grip. Cassian saw the name written on the front, saw the way I froze, saw the fear and confusion on my face. His expression shifted, turning dark, guarded, and something else—jealousy, or fear, or something far more complicated.

“Who is it?” he asked, his voice low and tight.

I looked up at him, caught between the secret I was keeping, the man I was bound to, and the friend who claimed he knew the truth.

“It’s… Vince,” I whispered.

And suddenly, everything we had built—our quiet peace, our secret bond, the fragile safety we had found together—felt like it was about to shatter completely.