Chapter 27: The Curse

Third POV

The dinner table in Emrich and Ysabella's private quarters was small and intimate, meant for family rather than feasts.

Candles flickered in the center, casting warm light across the wooden surface where three plates held the remnants of roasted chicken, buttered vegetables, and fresh bread.

Aileen sat between her parents, her small fingers still sticky with honey from the tart she had devoured for dessert.

She swung her legs beneath the table, her attention fixed on the cloth doll that rested beside her plate. Hecate's gift. She had not let go of it all day.

"Mama," Aileen said, her voice bright and curious. "When will we see Hecate again?"

Ysabella paused, her fork hovering over her plate. She exchanged a glance with Emrich, who hid a smile behind his wine glass.

"Oh, Goddess, now she only talks about Hecate," Ysabella murmured, showing concern. "She is obsessed with that woman. I am certain the witch cast a spell on my daughter."

Emrich laughed, a low and warm sound. He adored his mate's hot headed spirit, the way her protectiveness flared at the slightest threat to their daughter. "Perhaps Hecate is simply kind. Children sense kindness."

"Or children sense dark magic disguised as kindness," Ysabella retorted, but there was no real venom in her voice. She reached over and wiped a smear of honey from Aileen's cheek. "You will see her tomorrow, little star. I am to assist her again."

Aileen beamed. "Good. I like her. She makes magic dolls."

Ysabella sighed and shook her head, but a small smile tugged at her lips. She could not deny that Hecate had won her daughter over. And perhaps, somewhere beneath her suspicion, she was grateful for it.

After dinner, Ysabella carried Aileen to the nursery. The child was half asleep, her head resting on her mother's shoulder, the cloth doll clutched tightly to her chest. Ysabella tucked her into the small bed, pulled the blankets up to her chin, and kissed her forehead.

"Sleep well, my love."

"Love you, Mama," Aileen mumbled, her eyes already closing.

Ysabella stood in the doorway for a moment, watching her daughter's chest rise and fall, listening to her soft breathing. Then she blew out the candle and slipped into the hallway.

Emrich was waiting for her in their bedchamber. He lay propped against the headboard, a leather bound book open in his hands, his reading glasses perched on his nose. The fire crackled in the hearth, casting shadows across the walls.

He looked up when she entered and smiled. "Is she asleep?"

"Finally. She asked three more times about Hecate as I carried her up the stairs."

Emrich closed his book and set it aside. "You are worried about her."

Ysabella crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap. She was quiet for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

"It is not just Aileen," she said. "It is the healing session today. Hecate said something strange."

Emrich's expression grew serious. He took off his glasses and set them on the bedside table. "What did she say?"

Ysabella told him everything. The oil. The massage. The way Hecate had placed her hands on Odette's forehead and spoken in that ancient language. And then the revelation.

"She said there is dark magic inside Odette. A poison. Something beyond the king's rage. She said someone wanted Odette to suffer, or wanted the king to suffer through her."

Emrich sat up straighter, his brow furrowed. "Dark magic? Are you certain?"

"That is what she claimed." Ysabella pulled her legs onto the bed and turned to face him. "Do you think it could be true? Or is she inventing stories to make herself seem more important?"

Emrich was silent for a long moment, his gaze distant. "The king's curse came from dark magic, too. It is possible that Odette's condition is not merely the result of his outburst. Perhaps the curse clings to those close to him."

"But why would it manifest now? She has been ill for years."

"I do not know." Emrich rubbed his temples. "I am surprised Hecate sensed something. None of the other healers ever mentioned dark magic."

Ysabella leaned against his shoulder. "Maybe she is more powerful than the others. Or maybe she is lying."

"Perhaps we should wait before judging her." Emrich wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. "She has only been here a few days. Give her time to prove herself."

Ysabella sighed. "You are too trusting."

"And you are not trusting enough." He kissed the top of her head. "We balance each other."

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, listening to the fire pop and hiss. Outside the window, snow began to fall again, soft and silent, blanketing the castle in white.

Then Emrich spoke, his voice quieter than before. "I must travel tomorrow."

Ysabella lifted her head. "Travel? Where?"

"To the eastern border. There have been reports of rogue activity near the old watchtower. I need to assess the situation and reinforce the patrols." He stroked her hair. "I will be gone several days."

She did not like it when he traveled. The worry never left her, the fear that something would happen to him, that he would not come back. But she understood. He was the Beta. He had duties that could not be ignored.

"How many days?" she asked.

"Five. Perhaps six. I will return as quickly as I can."

Ysabella nodded, though her heart felt heavier. She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, her thumbs tracing the lines around his eyes.

"Then I should give you something to remember me by," she said softly.

Emrich's lips curved into a smile. "Is that so?"

She kissed him.

The kiss was slow at first, tender, full of the love she did not always put into words. But it deepened quickly, years of partnership and passion simmering beneath the surface. His hands found her waist, and she leaned into him, letting herself be pulled down onto the soft furs.

They made love as the snow fell outside, as the fire burned low, as the castle settled into the quiet of night. There was no urgency, no desperation. Only the easy, familiar rhythm of two people who had chosen each other, who had survived darkness together, who had built a family from the ashes of betrayal.

Afterward, Ysabella lay with her head on Emrich's chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her back.

"I will miss you," she whispered.

"I will miss you too." He pressed a kiss to her hair. "But I will come home. I always do."

She closed her eyes and held him tighter, savoring the warmth of his body, the strength of his arms, the certainty of his presence.

And for a few precious hours, she did not think about dark magic or cursed kings or the strange healer with the knowing eyes. She only thought about now. About this. About them.