All Chapters of The Cursed Heiress : Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

POV: Silver ColtThe early morning mist clung to the edges of the forest like a ghostly veil, chilling the air and dampening the earth beneath my boots. I had been sent to patrol the border—a routine assignment, they said—but instinct screamed unease. Every rustle of leaves, every snap of a twig, set my nerves on edge. The forest seemed alive, watching, waiting.I tightened my grip on the wooden training sword I had borrowed from the hall, my knuckles whitening. “Just a routine patrol,” I whispered to myself, forcing courage into my voice. “Nothing can happen… right?”A sudden growl froze me mid-step. My head snapped toward the sound, heart hammering in my chest. Shadows moved with unnatural swiftness between the trees. Rogues.“They’re here!” I yelled instinctively, raising my sword. The first wave of attackers emerged, their eyes glinting red in the pale morning light. My stomach lurched, but I forced myself to stand tall. “I… I can handle this.”The first rogue lunged, and I parrie

POV: Silver Colt“Do you really think you could survive what’s coming?” Lesiana’s voice came like a whisper, too soft to be merciful, too sharp to ignore.My throat closed around the words I wanted to scream. My chest heaved, the weight of their stares pressing me into the ground. My legs trembled, refusing to obey, but I forced them to hold me upright. I shook my head slowly, words tumbling out, cracked and raw.“I… I don’t understand. Why? Why are you doing this to me? What did I do to deserve this?”Amelia laughed lightly behind her, a sound so smooth it scraped at my skin. “Deserve? You think life is about deserving? Oh, silver, you still don’t get it. You’ve been blind this whole time.”Her voice curled around my fear like smoke, choking me from within.“I just wanted…” My voice broke. I had no strength left to shape the truth. My parents’ faces flashed before me. The promises they whispered at night, the warmth that once covered me. “I just wanted to live. To belong and to be en

POV: Iris (formerly Silver)I woke to the scent of pine and damp earth, a strange heaviness in my chest that wasn’t fear—it was unfamiliarity. My eyes blinked open to sunlight spilling across a small, rustic room, walls lined with books and faint traces of herbs. My hands… they weren’t my hands. They were strong, lean, calloused in ways I had never known, yet delicate in motion.I sat up, every muscle screaming in confusion, yet moving with a precision I didn’t recognize. My reflection caught in a cracked mirror across the room. The face staring back wasn’t Silver’s. It was sharper, more angular, with deep brown eyes that seemed to pierce through the veil of my own disbelief. My hair fell in dark waves across my shoulders, thick and glossy. I had a body, but it was not mine—it was Iris’s.“This… this can’t be real,” I whispered, my voice low, unfamiliar. Yet it carried strength, a resonance that commanded the room. “I… I’m not Silver. I’m… Iris.”The voice in my head—the one from the

POV: IrisThe sun hung low over Oakwood, spilling golden light across the training arena where the earth was churned into mud from previous drills. The scent of pine mingled with sweat and leather, creating a sharp, electric tang that made my senses hyperaware. Today, I was to face my first real test—a duel against one of Oakwood’s seasoned warriors. Seth had promised me it would be a challenge, a true measure of my new strength.I stepped into the arena, muscles coiled and senses alert. My wolf stirred, humming through my veins, reminding me that I was no longer Silver, weak and defenseless, but Iris, Beta of Oakwood, alive with speed, agility, and instincts honed to perfection.“Are you ready, Iris?” called a deep, steady voice.I turned to face my opponent. Tall, broad-shouldered, with piercing amber eyes, Rovan, one of Oakwood’s veteran warriors, smirked. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous,” he teased, shifting into a combat stance. “I’d hate to embarrass you in front of the elders.”I

POV: Iris My hands were flat against the hard earth. I could feel the tremor in them like a living thing—my hands that had been held, shoved, struck. The tremor was not just from exhaustion; it was the aftermath of being taken apart and put back together by other people's cruelty. I let the tremor run. I let it remind me who I had been and what had been done to me.I breathed in, slow and shallow. The air filled my lungs and burned the way truth does when it wakes you up from a safer, stupid sleep. I said the words out loud because if I only told myself the vow it might be a secret that quietly died. If I shouted it at the moon, maybe the world would have to answer for the promise I made in my own throat.“I swear,” I said—first soft, then louder—“I swear I will not be broken into pieces for someone else’s comfort ever again.”My voice shook in the dark. I did not know whether the shaking came from cold, from fear, or from the rounding, raw ache that had lived under my ribs since the