The King's Cursed Bride

Owing Everything

When Carissa staggered for the fifth time, she decided to call it a night. Even though nightfall wasn't yet upon her. Carissa collapsed to the ground, leaning against her thick backpack as she caught her breath.

She'd forgotten how debilitating it was to be constantly injured. She'd become so used to Elon's healing.

Carissa drew her sleeve up and eyed a gash on her forearm. Dark tendrils snaked out from the cut, as if the blood in her veins had turned to ink. How long would she survive before she was infected? Carissa ran her finger along the edge of the gash, and pain burst across her arm, making white spots flash across her vision.

Carissa drew her hand back with a hiss. She couldn't go on for much longer like this. She needed to be healed soon. But Elon wasn't around. Not that she'd ask him if he were.

Carissa set her head against the pack and glanced up at the canopy. It was so thick and lush that she could barely catch glimpses of the gray sky. Elon had said that some of his gifting had been passed onto her, hadn't he? But how much of the gifting? Enough to heal herself?

Carissa drew her arms out of the pack's straps with a groan. It was worth a try. After all, at worst it would be ineffective, and she would be the same after she tried as before.

After making note of her surroundings and some landmarks, she ventured deeper into the forest. She was almost too tired to walk, and her feet caught on knobby tree roots. The air was more humid this side of Esmeray, but the air still had a chilly bite to it.

Her ears pricked at the faint burble of water, and she veered to the left to follow the sound. A stream, as wide as she was tall, wove through the trees. She tugged up her sleeve and dipped her wounded forearm beneath the water.

Nothing.

She thought of how Elon used his hands to caress and stroke her skin until it was healed. She dipped her free hand beneath the water and rubbed the skin on her forearm. She closed her eyes, willing the warmth of healing to rush through her.

A cold sensation clenched her so suddenly that she had to suppress a yelp, like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water down her throat. And then agony, pure, unadulterated agony. Like someone was raking their nails through her gash, making the raw flesh burn hotter than she thought possible.

Carissa yanked her forearm back out of the water and clutched it to her chest, trying to breathe through the pain. Her temples throbbed and air stuttered in and out of her chest. As the pain gradually receded, she calmed and loosened her grip on her arm.

But the panic returned when she laid eyes on the gash. The blackness in her veins had spread, and the gash was wider, foaming with black liquid.

Well. That had failed spectacularly. Once she'd gathered enough energy, she rose and staggered back to her camp. Only to find a circle drawn around her pack in the dirt.

A cold feeling snaked through her. Had this already been here when she'd arrived? And she'd simply been too tired to notice? Or had someone come while she was at the creek?

Her legs began to tremble so violently that she knew she wouldn't remain standing much longer. She crumpled into a heap next to her back pack, her limbs trembling. It seemed that entering the circle hadn't caused her harm. Still, it was strange.

She should scout the nearby area, perhaps find who had drawn the circle, or cook dinner, or set up camp. But as weak as she was, she feared that standing again so soon would cause her to pass out.

Instead, she curled up with her head against the back pack. Though exhaustion dragged her eyes downward, her pained body refused to let her slip into unconsciousness. Perhaps she should try and faint, just so she could get rest.

Eventually, once darkness fell, sleep overtook her.

***

She reached out to her right. Empty. Nothing but cold dirt.

Carissa shook her head as she awoke. What had she done that for? The initial shock from the massacre had worn off. She had known he wasn't there, so why bother to reach out for him? She chided herself for her foolishness, even as her throat tightened.

She tried to gain her feet, but her weakened body rebelled. Pain shot through her until her muscles clenched, and she sat back into the ground. She scrubbed a hand across her face, even that small movement making her arms ache. A sudden weariness sapped the last of her renewed energy.

Honestly, who was she fooling? Certainly not herself. At least, not anymore. She was in no condition to go after anyone. Not without help or healing. And at this point, Elon was likely the only one to offer her either. Another sharp pain tightened around her chest, the intensity rivaling that of her injuries.

Was she weak for missing her husband? Even after what had happened? She leaned against her backpack, biting her lip to stifle a pained moan. The least he could have done was explain. After what had happened, he owed her that.

Or did he? He was the one with foresight, after all. And though she hadn't understood his actions in the past, they had all had a purpose. He'd proven his love for her—and his people—over and over again. Who was she to question his motives now?

But she wanted to know. She wanted an explanation for the suffering of innocent, faithful people. What could Elon's purpose be in not telling her? She couldn't fathom what could be gained from this.

But even if she didn't know his purpose, surely she could trust in what she knew of him: that he was wise and compassionate. And wouldn't a wise, compassionate person have a purpose that synchronized with their character?

She still knew nothing more about what had happened or why. But she did know that she needed Elon. Not only for healing but for his insight and direction. He was the only one who could coax something good out of the terrible evil that had occurred.

Carissa pulled herself over to a tree and used its trunk to drag her into a standing position. It took a few moments for her breathing to steady from the exertion. She pushed off the tree, allowing herself a small smile when she remained standing.

She needed to find Elon again. Because in the end, he owed her nothing—not even an explanation.

And she owed him everything.

She took a few shaky steps toward her pack. She bent over, pain gripping her wounds. She grabbed the strap and tried to heave it up. But it was far too heavy.

Well, this was a problem. If she sat back down and tried to stand with the pack on her back, she doubted she'd be able to do so. And standing, she was too weak to lift the pack. But perhaps she didn't need it. After all, if Elon had foresight, surely he had planned for her to come to him. He couldn't be too far away. If she made good progress, perhaps she would see him by tonight. Or perhaps he would meet her halfway.

The thought energized her more than the previous night's sleep, and she began striding into the forest. As she crossed the boundary of the circle, carved into the dirt, she suppressed a shiver. No harm had come to her, so hopefully its owner was as benign as the circle.

***

Author's Note: The sneak peek is up!