Bound To The Cursed Prince

The Prince’s Demand

The flames under my skin burned with a vicious relentless heat tonight. They were far more aggressive than they had been in recent weeks. I paced the length of my private chamber like a caged beast. My boots struck the stone floor in a heavy, erratic rhythm that echoed off the high walls. Each sudden step sent a fresh wave of liquid fire rushing through my veins. It pushed against the confines of my flesh. The ancient curse was waking up again. It shook off its temporary slumber to remind me of my looming expiration date. It always started this way. A series of small deceptively quiet flickers deep within my chest preceded the oppressive heat that spread outward. It accelerated until it felt like my very blood was boiling in my tracks. I clenched my fists tightly. I watched the veins in my forearms illuminate with a sickly amber glow that pulsed like a warning beacon in the dim light of the study. I had maybe a single year left before this internal inferno consumed me completely. It would turn my bones to ash from the inside out. I was running out of time. I was running out of options. I was desperately running out of patience unless I found a definitive way to stop the regression.

The heavy mahogany door to the chamber swung open with a sharp creak. It interrupted my spiraling thoughts. Two of my personal royal guards stepped into the room. They roughly pushed the young kitchen girl inside before stepping back into the corridor to secure the perimeter. Ember Ashwood, the quiet servant from the lower kitchens, stumbled forward from the momentum of the push. She held her balance quickly. She refused to fall to her knees. The flickering torchlight from the wall sconces caught the unique strands of her silver-white hair. It made it gleam like polished steel in the shadows. Those striking storm grey eyes of hers immediately locked onto mine. They burned with an unyielding defiance that completely belied her low social status. I felt a grim smile tug at the corner of my mouth. Good. I needed someone with actual fire in their soul for what was to come. I did not need another sniveling coward looking to barter for their life.

"Sit down," I ordered. I gestured toward the heavy velvet chair near the hearth. My voice carried the full weight of the Obsidian Throne.

She remained standing exactly where she was. Her shoulders squared, and her chin lifted in a blatant display of resistance. "I still have pressing duties to attend to in the kitchens, my prince. If this dramatic midnight interrogation is merely about the broken ceramic plates from earlier, I can explain the entire situation to the headmaster."

I stepped closer to her. The physical distance between us shrank to a handful of inches. The moment I approached her, the turbulent flames raging under my skin reacted violently to her presence. They shifted from a chaotic burn to a strange rhythmic hum that actually calmed the pain in my chest slightly. It was fascinating. I had felt that exact same sensation down in the damp kitchens earlier. It was a sudden spark from her body that answered the call of my own hidden magic. "I saw exactly what you did to Lady Vesper, girl. I saw the unmistakable silver flame escape your fingers. Do not dare to insult my intelligence by lying to me now."

Her face paled significantly under the torchlight. The color drained from her cheeks. But she stubbornly held my intense gaze without flinching. "You are completely mistaken, my prince. It was nothing more than the residual heat from the baking ovens catching the fabric of her dress."

I lunged forward and grabbed her by the wrist before she could even attempt to pull away from my reach. The direct physical contact hit my system like a bolt of lightning. It sent a massive shock wave straight up my arm. Our competing powers resonated instantly. They defied our attempts to suppress them. A brilliant blinding silver light erupted from her skin. It collided with the fierce amber fire that surged from my own palm where our skin touched. She gasped aloud. Her chest heaved as the magic flared between us. I felt it too. It was a deep magnetic pull that vibrated through my bones. It was as if some primordial entity locked inside me recognized her bloodline on a fundamental level. For a glorious fleeting moment, the excruciating agony of my curse eased entirely. The constant agonizing burn dulled to a bearable whisper.

"You are no ordinary kitchen servant," I said coldly. My voice dropped to a harsh whisper as I finally released her wrist. Though I stayed close enough to catch the scent of ash on her clothes. "You are an Emberwraith. The last living one in the entire realm, if the old histories are to be believed. Your ancient bloodline possesses the unique ability to steal power directly from the gods themselves."

She backed up rapidly until her spine hit the solid stone wall of the chamber. Her breathing turned shallow and quick as she looked around for an escape route. "I do not know what you are talking about with these wild fairy tales. Please, I beg of you, just let me go back to my work in the lower quarters."

I laughed. It was a dark humorless sound that cut through the quiet room like a blade. The brief relief from her touch faded instantly. The intense pain in my veins flared back to life with a vengeance. I pressed a hand flat against my sternum. I fought to keep the amber fire from breaking through my skin right then and there. "Do not play innocent with me, Ember. I have spent years of my life searching the corners of the world for someone of your lineage. The petty gods cursed my bloodline generations ago. Every single male heir to the Obsidian Throne burns alive from the inside out before his twentieth birthday arrives. I am next in line to die. You are going to help me stop it."

Ember shook her head fiercely. Her storm-grey eyes flashed with a sudden deep-seated anger that replaced her fear. "I am just a ordinary servant in this academy. I have absolutely no power to help a prince break an ancestral curse. Even if I miraculously did possess that kind of magic, why on earth would I ever choose to help you?"

I moved closer. I used my height to tower over her. I pinned her against the stone wall with my shadow. "Because if you refuse my request, I will personally expose your identity to the high lords. The Ash Council will hunt you down across the borders like they did your ancestors. You will burn at the public stake before the week ends. But if you agree to become my secret weapon in this fight, I will protect you with the full might of the crown. I will hide your identity. I will alter the records. I will give you total freedom when this curse is finally broken."

She stared up at me. The deep defiance in her eyes warred visibly with the cold reality of her fear. I could see the analytical mind behind her gaze. It calculated the odds of her survival in a world that wanted her dead. The offer I was presenting was cold, calculating and entirely transactional. I did not care about the morality of it. I needed her unique power to survive past the winter. Absolutely nothing else mattered to me.

"I will never be your weapon," she said finally. Her voice was remarkably steady even though I could see her small hands trembling against her apron. "I have spent years hiding in the filth of these kitchens to avoid exactly this kind of exploitation. Kill me if you must. Or expose me to the council. But I will never willingly help the son of the tyrant who ordered the total destruction of my family."

Her words hit me significantly harder than I ever expected them to. I knew the dark history of my kingdom. I knew the bloody rumors surrounding the purges. My father had indeed ordered the ruthless execution of the Emberwraiths to secure his own grip on power. But regret and ancestral guilt were luxury emotions that a dying man simply could not afford. "Then you leave me no other choice, Ember."

I grabbed her arm firmly. I tightened my grip so she could not slip away from me. She tried to pull back with all her might. Her heels dug into the floor. But I was far stronger. I was driven by the desperate adrenaline of a man fighting for his life. The powerful resonance flared between us once again. Her silver magic called out to my amber fire. It begged us to connect and balance the scales. I actively ignored the alluring pull of the bond and dragged her toward the private exit of the chamber.

"You will come with me to my restricted training quarters in the lower levels," I said. My voice hardened into an unyielding command. "We begin the extraction process tonight. Fight me all you want. Scream if you think it will help. But you will help me break this curse or we will both die in this castle."

Ember dug her heels into the rugs. She twisted her wrist in a desperate attempt to break my hold. "I said no, imperial brute."

I did not stop my forward momentum for a single second. The two guards waiting outside the chamber door fell into perfect step behind us the moment we exited. They created a moving wall of armor that shielded us from view as I pulled her down the deserted stone corridor. Her physical resistance only caused my grip to tighten further. It ensured she could not slip into the shadows. The flames under my skin burned hotter with every single step we took away from the main academy rooms. The heat threatened to blister my palms. I needed her power more than I had ever needed anything in my life. Whether she liked the arrangement or not, she would become my salvation.

The towering iron doors of the restricted royal training wing loomed ahead in the darkness. They looked like the entrance to a fortress. Once we passed inside those warded walls, no one in the academy would be able to interrupt us or question my methods. She would learn exactly what I was willing to do to ensure my survival. She would ultimately have no choice but to join me in the dark.