I Woke Up Married to the Cursed King

Chapter 16: Chapter 16: How Serious

Sable turned around.

"What do you mean, you have time."

Elian looked at her.

"That snake around his neck," she said. "That’s a poisoning curse. You know what those do. They don’t unravel in a day, but they don’t need to. The moment whoever is running this decides they’re done being patient—" She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to. freewёbnoνel.com

Elian was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, "When I came here, this was a haunted house."

Sable looked at him.

"I mean that literally," he said. "Battlefield spirits packed into every room. The corridor we’re standing in was impassable. His bedroom—" He paused. "You wouldn’t have walked into his bedroom."

She glanced around. At the corridor, which was clear now. At the corners, where the salt bundles sat quiet and doing their work.

"It still feels like a haunted house," she said.

"I know. There’s still work to do." He looked at her. "Which is why I need to ask you something."

"What."

"The rituals you know. The ones for this kind of working — binding, sending, cursed objects." He held her gaze. "Teach me."

A pause.

"You want to be my apprentice," she said.

"I want to understand what I’m fighting well enough to fight it properly."

She looked at him for a long moment. Something moving through her expression that he couldn’t entirely read.

"Alright," she said. "I’ll teach you."

He nodded.

She turned back to the spirit at the end of the corridor. Studying it with the focused attention of someone reassessing what they’d thought they understood.

"The snake," she said. "When I look at it now — it’s loose. Relatively. For what it is."

"Yes."

"It wasn’t always."

"No." He thought about the first time he’d seen it. Tight against Caelian’s skin, the dark bruising beneath it. "When I arrived it was considerably worse."

"You did that," she said. Not a question.

"The bracelet helps. The salt in the corners. The cleansing work." He paused. "It took time."

She was quiet for a moment.

"Here’s what you need to understand," she said. "The snake is not the main event. It’s a delivery system for whatever the curse is feeding him. If the person running this decides they want him dead quickly—" She looked at the snake. "It’s minutes. Not days. Minutes."

"I know."

"And that thing—" She nodded toward the spirit. "It’s not going to leave without a fight. If the commissioner gave it a singular directive — kill this person — it will not stop. It will not negotiate. You’d have to either burn the body or—"

"Or gain its trust," Elian said. "Find out what it wants beyond the directive."

"If it wants anything beyond the directive." She turned to face him fully. "Whoever you’re fighting knows more than you do. I want you to understand that. This isn’t someone who stumbled into dark workings. This is someone who has been doing this deliberately, carefully, for a long time."

"I know that too."

"I’m not saying it to discourage you." Her voice was even. Direct. "I’m saying it so you don’t underestimate the situation."

"I don’t," he said. "I’ve been living inside the situation. I know exactly how serious it is."

She looked at him for another moment.

Then, apparently satisfied, she nodded.

"There are things I need to investigate myself," she said. "The snake’s specific signature. Where it came from. These poisoning curses have origins — traditions, regional methods. If I can identify where it was learned, that narrows the field of who could have commissioned this."

"How long will that take."

"Some time. I’d need access. Books, materials." She paused. "And proximity. I’d need to be able to observe it regularly."

Elian had been waiting for this.

"We have a servant’s house," he said. "Outhouse quarters, separate from the main palace. Comfortable. Private." He paused. "I could bring you in under a household title. Royal consultant. Something appropriate."

Sable looked at him.

"Wouldn’t you need His Majesty’s permission for that," she said carefully.

Elian smiled. "If I ask him, he’ll say yes."

She studied him.

"You sound very certain of that."

"I am."

A beat.

"Alright," she said. "Then yes. I’ll stay." She looked back at the snake coiled at the distant figure of Caelian’s neck, visible now only as he passed the far end of the corridor. "This curse is not simple. Whoever built it had access to knowledge that isn’t common. And they had resources." A pause. "And patience."

"The worst kind of enemy," Elian said.

"Yes," Sable agreed. "The kind that’s been winning for a long time before you even knew there was a game."

They stood in the corridor together for a moment.

The spirit watched them both.

"Well," Elian said. "Let’s start changing that."

Sable left the next morning.

She packed with the efficiency of someone who had traveled often and traveled light. One bag. The right tools. She said goodbye to Elian at the gate with the practicality of two professionals parting ways temporarily.

"Don’t let him die," she said.

"Working on it," Elian said.

She went.

He stood at the gate for a moment after she’d gone.

The palace stretched behind him. Forty-odd rooms. Two dozen staff. One cursed king. One cold marriage. One thing in the corridor that wasn’t a spirit. One divine being arranging offerings at a small shrine in the garden.

And one Elian, who had arrived in this world by dying in his own and had apparently decided, somewhere along the way, that leaving was less important than staying.

He turned and went back inside.

He had work to do.

Edmund was in the main corridor.

"Your Highness. The eastern correspondence is ready for your review."

"Thank you, Edmund."

"And Lord Dunwick sent a note. He’d like to call at your convenience."

Dunwick, Elian thought. Good. He’s been thinking about who he could ask about the tutor.

"Tomorrow morning," Elian said. "Tell him I’m available at ten." ƒгeewёbnovel.com

"Of course." The small bow. "Is there anything else?"

Elian looked at him.

The professional warmth. The perfect timing. The way he always knew what was needed before it was asked.

Always here, Elian thought. Always helpful.

Something snagged briefly.

Gone before he could place it.

"No," Elian said. "Thank you, Edmund."

He went to his study.