The King's Cursed Bride

Bleeding Out

Reading the letters.

She slipped out the first page. It was crumpled, the ink slightly smeared, the white of the paper discolored by dirt. She unfolded it, moving gingerly so as not to injure herself further.

Dearest Carissa,

My father informed me of our betrothal mere days ago, and I'm quite eager to meet you in person. In truth, I'd like to arrive to you myself instead of merely sending a letter—or I could have an entire entourage escort you back to the palace. But father has advised me against this. Though he arranged our marriage, he says it is by no means meant to violate our own desires. He says I should continue to communicate with you, but I must withhold further pursuit until you express an interest in me as I have in you. Though it pains me to do so, I agree with father. I don't want to force or pressure you into a marriage you don't want, so I shall await your explicit permission to visit.

I know you must be curious about why we were betrothed. Father tells me he arranged this marriage more for you than for me. Apparently, father had sensed you were inflicted with some sort of curse. I'm unaware of the details, but I know that this curse is dangerous. But don't be afraid; I will help you. I know it must be quite frightening to deal with things such as royal betrothals and curses at such a young age—though, at sixteen, I'm not much older—and I vow I will do all I can to assist you. Father says my powers can somehow counteract the curse. I'm sorry I don't know more, but I wanted to reassure you that I will pour myself into my training as I never have before. When we are wed, I will do whatever it takes to keep the curse at bay.

At first, I was surprised that father arranged this marriage for your sake rather than mine. After all, I'm his son. I can't explain it, but somehow I think he loves you even now, as if you're his daughter already. And if father loves you, I'm certain I will as well. Perhaps you'll even come to love me.

I haven't fully developed my Foresight yet, but for some reason when I think of writing on the next page I see... fire? How peculiar. I don't know what it means, but I think the next page of this letter will be burned sometime in the future. I do hope that doesn't mean something catastrophic will happen. Needless to say, I do believe I'll write some sort of gibberish on the next page before continuing the letter on the page after.

Though it pained her, Carissa dared to take a long, deep breath. The page he was referring to, of course, was missing; she'd burnt it herself long ago, and her parents had stopped her from burning more. To think the rest of his letters could have been lost to her if her parents hadn't intervened.

She read the next page.

I apologize for wasting so much paper and for the lines of nonsense you had to read.

As I was saying, please write back to me soon. I'd like to know you more intimately, so you can sooner be comfortable with us wedding and you won't have to live with that curse plaguing you. Naturally, the wedding will be yours to set, so you needn't fear that things will happen too quickly. Still, I urge to you reply as soon as is reasonable—and you can give your letter to the royal courier who gives you mine.

Though there are still many unknowns where your curse and our future relationship are concerned, this I do know: You need me. Without me, you are lost. And though we've never met, I don't want to lose you, Carissa. Please don't let me lose you.

Ever Yours,

Elon

Carissa stared at his signature, mesmerized by the rich darkness of the ink and the sleekness of the curves. Her breaths came sharp and fast, like arrows to her chest, as she stifled the urge to cry. To think that she'd had an opportunity to know this man during these past years.