They said he was cursed. They said I’d be dead before the seventh night. I told myself it was all nonsense, that I’d survive, that I’d escape. But then I felt the knife against my throat, and I…

The royal priest’s voice echoed through the stone chapel, but Audra barely heard a word. She stood beside King Ender, the infamous cursed king, and tried not to think about the fact that all six of his previous brides had died on the seventh night of their marriage. Natural causes, they’d said. A fall from the tower.

A sudden illness. A tragic accident. Every single time, seven days after the wedding, a dead queen. Ender’s hand was cold when he took hers.

She could feel him trembling, or perhaps that was her own fear. Their union had been a mistake—she’d picked the drunkest man in the tavern to pose as her fiancé, bribed a fake priest for a sham ceremony, and somehow ended up married to the king of the entire realm. Her judgment, clearly, was terrible. And now she had seven days to figure out if the rumors were true before she became the next victim.

She remembered the morning after their wedding night, waking to find Ender staring at the ceiling, his expression hollow. He’d asked for an annulment the moment she’d opened her eyes, his voice flat and resigned. She should have agreed. She should have slipped away and counted herself lucky to escape with her life.

Instead, she’d stood in that cold bedchamber and argued with him, pushing past his guards, who didn’t seem to know whether to obey their king or protect their new queen. “You can’t really say no,” she’d said, “given that this is all your fault. You didn’t exactly say no to the wedding. ”

He’d only stared at her, as if she’d lost her mind.

Perhaps she had. But when he’d finally cupped her face in his hands and kissed her, she felt something she didn’t expect—a warmth spreading through her chest, a thread tying her to him that hadn’t been there before. Now, seven nights later, she lay beside him in the dark, listening to his breathing slow and wondering if the curse would strike again. They’d spent every night together since the wedding, and every night the bond between them grew stronger.

When she closed her eyes, she could feel him—his fear, his hope, his desperate need to keep her alive. Percy had helped her escape the court’s watchful eyes. He’d been friendly since her arrival, the only one who treated her like a person instead of a corpse waiting to happen. But there was something about his smile she didn’t quite trust.

He’d been the one to suggest she slip away to clear her head, to meet him in the forest. She’d thought it would be nice, a moment of peace. He was her friend, after all. He helped her.

But when she met him in the clearing, his face had changed, and the smile had turned cold. “The other brides,” Percy said, twirling a knife between his fingers. “Poor things. They never saw it coming.

”

Audra felt the world tilt. “You. You killed them. ”

Percy laughed, a friendly, easy laugh that made her skin crawl.

“They were easy. Lonely, frightened, desperate for affection. Same as you. I made them trust me, told them I’d help them escape the cursed king.

And when the seventh night came, they were already dead. ”

The knife pressed against her throat, nicking the skin. She felt the sting, felt the blood trickle down her neck. He explained it all—how he’d framed Ender, how he’d wanted the throne, how he’d grown tired of waiting.

The friend. ” He laughed again. “There is no curse, Audra. I made sure the king would be blamed.

And now you’re going to suffer the same fate. ”

But Audra wasn’t alone. She’d felt him through the bond—felt Ender’s rage, his terror, his frantic rush through the forest. She saw him burst through the trees, sword drawn, and she closed her eyes as he lunged forward.

Percy’s knife was inches from her throat, but her true king was there. He drove his blade into his own reckless attacker’s side, and the man crumpled into the mud. She was safe. All because Ender had broken through his own fear and come for her.

Later, as they sat by the fire in their chamber, Ender finally told her the truth. He’d wept for each of his queens. He’d blamed himself for every death, believing the rumors, believing the curse. He’d never once suspected the friend who had offered him comfort.

The hurt in his eyes was raw, honest. He was not the monster everyone said. He was a lonely man who had lost everyone he’d ever loved. But she was still alive, and now she understood.

“There is no curse,” she said. “There never was. It was him. ”

“I know,” Ender whispered.

“I should have seen it sooner. I should have protected them, protected you. ”

“We’re alive, Ender. That’s what matters.

” She kissed him again, slow and certain. The fear that had gripped her for seven nights melted away in the warmth of their bond. He was not cursed.

He was hers, and she was his, and nothing else in the world mattered.