All Chapters of Her Enemy, His Curse: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

Arielle: The market was alive today—louder, busier, and more dangerous than usual—which made it perfect for stealing anything. But I didn’t have a choice. The hunger was worse today—sharper and crueler. I clutched my stomach as it twisted on itself, hollow and aching like a rusted blade scraping bone. Each breath felt heavier, as if the air itself had weight, pressing me down while the scent of roasting meats and sugared fruits drifted through the crowd like a curse. I kept my head low beneath my tattered cloak, slipping through bodies like smoke. I’d learned how to move without being seen. How to make myself forgettable. The cloak helped—it was too big, threadbare at the hem, and smelled like mildew and ash—but in a place like this, poor and invisible were sometimes the same thing. Noble witches glided past me, their silk gowns rustling like leaves, their jeweled hands clutching polished parasols or crystal vials that shimmered with liquid magic. Velvet cloaks swept the cobblesto

They called it an academy, but it looked more like a prison. Warborn Academy rose from the cliffside like a jagged fang, all black stone and iron spires, a castle built not to inspire but to contain. The sky above it boiled gray and bone-white, heavy with stormlight. The wind howled through its ramparts like it, too, had been trained to scream. Mist curled at our feet as we crossed the threshold, clinging to the earth like ghost fingers. The iron gates groaned closed behind us, loud and final. This wasn’t a school. This was a sentence. I paused just beyond the iron portcullis, my stomach twisting into something sharp. Everything here reeked of punishment and power. Even the stone seemed to hum with it—a low, vibrating thrum that settled in your bones and whispered submit. Gargoyles leered from above, their eyes carved to follow you wherever you walked. The sigils etched around the doors pulsed faintly, not welcoming but warning. Wards. Strong ones. Not to keep intruders out—but to

Combat drills began before the sun even kissed the horizon.We were marched out into the frostbitten courtyard while the torches were still guttering against the wind. A ring of iron runes had been carved into the earth overnight. Blood still lingered in the dirt from the last group that trained here.Today’s trial was magical endurance—paired combat, weapons optional. No deaths allowed. Everything else? Fair game.Lucian and I stood across from one another in the center circle, watched by nearly half the academy.“You look nervous,” he said, voice low.I rolled my shoulders, forcing my body to relax as my pulse raced. “No, just hoping this doesn’t take long. I have better things to do than mop the floor with you.”“Careful.” A glint of something sharp passed through his eyes. “You might trigger your own funeral.”The instructors barked the signal.We moved.Lucian came at me like a shadow loosed from bone—quick, quiet, and purposeful. I barely dodged his first strike. His blade humme

The library in the East Wing smelled like dust, candle wax, and secrets.I slipped in just past curfew, a flame flickering in my palm to light the darkened stacks. Magic wasn’t allowed after hours, but rules had never mattered much to me, especially not when my life was literally tethered to someone else’s. Someone I could barely stand.Lucian hadn’t spoken to me since the last combat drill. Not really. Just a few clipped commands, eye rolls, and that one gritted “you missed your target again” when I scorched a training dummy’s cloak instead of its chest.He hated this bond.He hated me.But I hated feeling helpless even more.Somewhere in the forbidden texts—those kept behind the blacklocked shelves, chained and sealed with spells older than kingdoms—there had to be something. A loophole. A ritual. A cursebreaker with teeth.I crouched by a cracked volume of bloodbinding runes, flipping through brittle pages. Most were useless. Some were horrifying. A few looked promising. The kind o

The forest outside Warborn Academy was ancient. Wild. Angry.We were sent there under the guise of “practical training.” In reality, it was punishment wrapped in bark and blood.“Survival conditions,” Commander Kael had announced that morning, voice flat as iron. “Two nights. Pairs only. No aid. No magic beacons.”Lucian and I had barely looked at each other. Neither of us liked the idea of being dropped into a cursed thicket where half the plant life wanted to eat us and the other half whispered your name when you weren’t listening.But we weren’t given a choice.They dropped us at dusk, in cold air. No map. Two packs and a faint glowing rune scrawled across Lucian’s palm that would guide us back—if we survived long enough to use it.The first day was quiet. Too quiet.Lucian took the lead, blade drawn. I stayed behind, trying not to trip over gnarled roots or let my magic slip too close to the surface. The tether between us stayed taut, whispering with phantom pain whenever I stumbl