Bound By His Curse

CHAPTER 3

SERAPHINA POV:

For the next two weeks, my life settled into a quiet, lonely rhythm exactly as Cassian had ordered. I stayed within the boundaries of my wing of the mansion, never stepping foot into his territory, never asking questions, never seeking him out. My days blurred together: waking up to soft, silent maids bringing breakfast, spending hours reading in the small private garden attached to my rooms, wandering the endless library lined with books that were older than my grandfather, eating meals alone in the large dining room reserved only for me.

The Valemont estate was breathtakingly beautiful—marble floors that shone like mirrors, crystal chandeliers that glittered even in the daylight, expensive paintings and sculptures everywhere you looked—but it was cold. So cold. No laughter, no warm conversations, no sign that anyone actually lived here, loved here, or felt anything here. It was a palace built of ice and power, and I was just a guest passing through, waiting for my year to end.

I rarely saw Cassian. Most days, he left the house before I even woke up, returning late at night when all the lights in my wing were already turned off. When we did cross paths by accident—in the main hallway, or when we were both waiting for the car to attend a mandatory charity event—he treated me like I didn’t exist. His dark eyes would slide right past me, his face a perfect mask of cold indifference, his steps never slowing, never acknowledging my presence at all.

But I noticed things. Small things no one else seemed to see, or perhaps no one else dared to look close enough to notice.

I noticed how he always walked with a slight stiffness in his shoulders, like every step cost him effort. How his hands were always clenched tight at his sides, or stuffed deep into his pockets, hiding the way his fingers trembled ever so slightly. How he never stood still for too long, never sat comfortably, always shifting, always tense, like he was fighting a battle that never ended. And most of all, I noticed the way his face would twist, just for a split second, into an expression of raw, sharp agony—gone so fast you could blink and miss it, but there, always there, hidden behind his cold, perfect mask.

No one else seemed to see it. The staff bowed their heads and hurried past him, terrified to even meet his eyes. Business partners shook his hand and praised his sharp mind and ruthless power, completely blind to the fact that the man standing before them was in constant, silent pain. Reporters wrote articles calling him the Cold Monster, the Heartless King, never guessing that behind that coldness was a suffering so deep it could break a man in half.

And I also couldn’t forget what had happened that first night. The moment my hand had touched his arm, the way all that pain had vanished instantly, replaced by shock. The way he had ripped himself away like I had burned him, storming out before I could say a single word. It haunted me, replaying in my head over and over, a mystery I couldn’t solve, a secret I wasn’t supposed to know.

One night, around two in the morning, I woke up to a low, ragged sound drifting through the walls. It was quiet, barely audible, but in the silence of the huge mansion, it was impossible to miss. A sound of pain. Of suffering. Of someone fighting to breathe.

My heart hammered in my chest as I climbed out of bed, wrapping a thin robe around myself. I knew I wasn’t supposed to leave my wing. I knew Cassian’s rules were absolute, that stepping out now would be breaking every single one of them. But I couldn’t just lie there and listen. I couldn’t ignore the sound of someone hurting so badly.

I slipped out of my room, moving silently down the hallway, following the sound until I reached the heavy double doors of his private study. The sounds were coming from inside—heavy, uneven breathing, a low groan that made my skin prickle with fear and sympathy.

I hesitated for only a second, then turned the handle as quietly as I could. The door wasn’t locked.

What I saw when I stepped inside made my blood run cold.

Cassian was on his knees on the floor, his head bowed, his hands clawing at his chest, his whole body shaking violently. His face was twisted with agony, sweat pouring down his pale skin, his breathing coming in short, ragged gasps. He looked nothing like the powerful, untouchable man everyone feared. He looked like a man dying slowly, painfully, right there in the dark.

And around his neck, glinting in the low light of the lamp on his desk, was a thick silver chain with an old, strange amulet hanging from it—carved with twisted symbols I had never seen before, glowing faintly with a dull, dark red light.

The curse. The rumors were true. This was the deadly family curse no medicine could cure.

He gasped, his head falling back, and his eyes snapped open—dark, wild, filled with pain and panic, locking right onto me standing in the doorway.

“Get out,” he rasped, his voice rough and broken, barely recognizable. “Get out! I told you—never come here—never look at me—”

He tried to stand, tried to reach for me to push me away, but his legs gave out, and he collapsed forward.

Without thinking, I ran to him, dropping to my knees beside him, and reached out, placing both my hands gently on his shoulders.

“Cassian—”

The second my skin touched his, the change was instant.

His whole body went rigid, then relaxed completely, all the tension, all the shaking, all the agony draining out of him like water from a cup. The twisted expression on his face smoothed out, the pain vanished from his eyes, his breathing slowing instantly into a steady, calm rhythm. Even the strange red glow from the amulet around his neck dimmed, fading until it was nothing more than dull silver again.

He stared at me, wide-eyed, disbelieving, his dark eyes searching mine like he was seeing something impossible, something he had given up hope of ever finding. His hands came up, wrapping around my wrists—not pushing me away, but holding them there, keeping my hands pressed firmly against him, like he was terrified that if I moved away, the pain would come back.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The silence in the room was no longer cold or heavy—it was soft, quiet, filled with a strange, breathless wonder.

Then, slowly, his fingers tightened around my wrists. He pulled my hands away gently, but didn’t let go, holding them between us, his dark eyes studying me with an intensity that made my heart race.

“How?” he asked, his voice low, rough, and completely different from the cold tone he always used with me. “How do you do that?”

I shook my head, my own heart pounding, tears stinging my eyes as I looked at him—really looked at him, past the monster everyone feared, past the cold mask, seeing the broken, suffering man underneath.

“I don’t know,” I whispered honestly. “I don’t understand. But… the pain. It goes away when I touch you. Doesn’t it?”

He didn’t answer right away. He looked away, his jaw tightening, the walls he had built around himself starting to creep back up, bit by bit. But he didn’t let go of my hands. Not yet.

“I was told,” he said quietly, his voice tight, like every word was dragged out of him, “that there was only one thing in this world that could calm the curse. Only one person. Someone born with a gentle heart, a pure spirit… someone who could absorb the darkness, ease the pain, keep me alive.”

He looked back at me, his eyes dark and deep, filled with a mix of hope and fear and disbelief.

“I never believed it. I thought it was just an old legend, a story my ancestors made up to give themselves false hope. But… you.”

He let go of my hands abruptly, standing up and turning his back to me, the cold mask sliding back into place instantly. But I noticed how he stood straighter, how he moved easier, how there was no trace of pain left in his posture at all.

“You tell no one about this,” he said, his voice sharp and commanding again, though I could hear the faint tremor underneath. “Not a single word. To anyone. Not your family, not the staff, not anyone. Do you understand?”

I stood up slowly, nodding. “I understand.”

He walked to the door, opening it and gesturing for me to leave, not looking at me. “Go back to your wing. Forget you ever saw anything. This changes nothing. The contract remains the same. You are still here for one year, and one year only.”

I walked past him, out into the dark hallway, but paused before I turned toward my rooms.

“It changes everything, Cassian,” I said softly, so quiet I wasn’t even sure he heard me. “Whether you want to admit it or not.”

I walked away, leaving him alone in his study, alone with his secret, alone with the knowledge that the wife he had chosen because she was quiet, obedient, and invisible… was actually the only person in the whole world who could save his life.

And I knew, deep down, that our fake marriage was no longer just a deal to save my family. It had become the only thing keeping him alive.