I Woke Up Married to the Cursed King

Chapter 44: Chapter 44: Dead

The introduction was brief.

Elian brought Riven into the study where Caelian was working and said "this is a consultant I’ve brought in for the household" and Caelian looked up from his papers and looked at Riven and said "alright" and went back to his papers.

Riven looked at Elian.

Elian shrugged slightly.

Rowan, who had been sitting in the corner with a book, was less economical about it. He looked at Riven with the open curiosity he brought to most things, then looked at Caelian, then looked at Elian with an expression that was asking several questions simultaneously without committing to any of them.

Nobody answered the unasked questions.

Riven was shown to his room. Elian left him to settle.

* * *

Rowan caught Caelian in the corridor afterward.

"The new consultant," he said.

"What about him," Caelian said, still moving.

"He seems—" Rowan searched for the word. "Particular."

"Elian’s judgment," Caelian said simply.

Rowan walked beside him. "Are you alright with it? Elian bringing someone in, having him around—"

Caelian stopped walking.

He looked at his brother.

"What am I supposed to say," he said. Flat. Not angry — just genuinely at a loss.

Rowan looked at him.

"I don’t know," Rowan said honestly.

Caelian started walking again.

* * *

Isolde passed Riven in the corridor outside the guest wing.

She looked at him. He looked at her. The polite, brief acknowledgment of two people in the same house who hadn’t been introduced.

She kept walking. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

Then slowed.

Turned back slightly.

"Have we met?" she said. "You look—" She studied him. "I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere."

"I have one of those faces," Riven said pleasantly.

She looked at him a moment longer.

"Perhaps," she said, and continued on.

Riven watched her go.

Then he went to find Elian.

* * *

They stood in the corridor. Elian, Riven, Sable.

"That man there," Elian said, nodding toward the far end where Caelian was visible crossing the junction. "Look at his neck."

Riven looked.

His expression shifted.

"The snake," he said.

"Yes."

"That’s not a standard working."

"No. Elevated. Someone built on the original."

Riven was quiet for a moment. Still looking. Then: "And that thing in the corner."

"You can see it," Elian said. frёewebnoѵēl.com

"Hard to miss, once you know what to look for." Riven turned away from it deliberately. The specific deliberateness of someone who didn’t want to make prolonged eye contact with something that might notice. "That’s a sent spirit. Burial ritual origin."

"Yes."

"And the snake is a separate working entirely."

"Yes."

Riven looked at Elian.

"So if one fails," he said slowly, "the other—"

"Triggers," Elian said. "I think so. I haven’t confirmed it but the pattern fits. They’re not working together. They’re working in sequence. Failsafes."

Riven stared at him.

"Somebody," he said, "wants him dead dead. Not slow dead. Not eventual dead." He looked back at the corridor where Caelian had been. "Dead dead. Belt and suspenders. If one doesn’t work, the other catches it."

"Yes," Elian said.

"And you’ve been dealing with this alone."

"With Sable."

Sable raised a hand slightly.

Riven looked at her. Looked at Elian. Looked at the corridor.

"Why are you trying to save him," he said.

Elian opened his mouth.

"Don’t say the thing about not being able to go anywhere when he dies," Riven said. "I know that rule. It also doesn’t hold — you’d lose the palace but you’d have options. You’re resourceful. You’d find something." He looked at him steadily. "So why."

Elian looked at the corridor.

At the empty junction where Caelian had been.

"I just want to save a guy," he said. "Is that a bad thing?"

Riven looked at him for a moment.

"No," he said. "No, it’s not." He said it without mockery. Without the smile. Just — plainly. "I’m just asking."

"I know," Elian said.

They stood in the corridor for a moment.

"Alright," Riven said. "First things first. That sent spirit — we need its name and identity. That’s the key. Once we know who it was, we know who buried it, and that breaks the whole thing open."

"I’ve been trying," Elian said. "It won’t communicate."

"Because you haven’t given it a reason to." Riven looked at the corner where the spirit stood watching them. "Blood ritual. Specific kind — identification working. It compels the spirit to reveal its origin without requiring its cooperation." He paused. "I’ll need some things."

"Give me a list," Elian said.

Riven started listing.

Elian wrote it down.

Sable leaned over to look at the list as it grew.

"That last one," she said. "Where are you going to get that in this kingdom."

"I have contacts," Riven said.

"Of course you do," Elian said.

Riven almost smiled. "I’ll have everything within two days."

Elian looked at the list.

Then he looked at the spirit in the corner.

We’re going to find out who you were, he thought. And then we’re going to find where they put you.

And then this ends.

* * *

Riven came back an hour later with most of the list already sourced.

Elian looked at him.

"Two days," he’d said.

"I know people," Riven said, dropping a cloth bundle on the desk. "Some of them owe me things."

"Of course they do," Sable said.

Riven looked at her. "You’re the one who went to the east and came back knowing things about a Varek that most people spend careers not knowing."

"Fair point," Sable said.

They spread the materials across the desk. Riven talked through each one — what it did, how it would function in the identification ritual, what they were working toward.

Elian listened carefully.

"The ritual itself," he said. "How long does it take."

"The preparation — a few days. The actual working — one night." Riven looked at the materials. "We need a specific place. Somewhere with no spiritual interference. Everything I’ve felt in this palace—" He stopped. "There’s a lot of residual activity here."

"I know," Elian said. "I’ve been clearing it."

"You’ve cleared a lot," Riven said. "It’s better than it was. But for this ritual we need clean space." He looked at the window. "That shrine of yours. The grounds around it."

"The divine being’s territory," Elian said.

"Yes. Which means whatever is in this palace can’t easily reach it." He paused. "That’s where we do the blood ritual."

Elian thought about the divine being. About I’m closer to a vengeful spirit than a god now. About the maids leaving fruit and the growing attendance at the temple.

"The divine being will allow it," Elian said. "I’ll ask."

"Good." Riven rolled up the cloth bundle. "Two days to prepare. Then we find out who that spirit was."

He left.

Sable looked at Elian.

"You trust him," she said.

"I’m watching him," Elian said. "It’s not the same thing."

She almost smiled.

"No," she said. "But it’s enough for now."

* * *

He stayed up late going over what they had.

The blood ritual had given them the sending’s testimony — or what passed for testimony from something that had forgotten its own name. The one. This place. The master is close.

Three pieces of information.

Not enough. But more than nothing.

He thought about the master.

Someone in this palace. Someone embedded enough that a spirit bound to the grounds registered their presence as close. Not just physically near — spiritually close. Connected.

A practitioner, Elian thought. Someone with enough practice that the spirit recognizes their particular spiritual signature.

He thought about everyone he’d met in this palace. Every face. Every interaction.

He thought about who had access that nobody questioned.

The thread snagged again.

He didn’t pull it.

Evidence, he told himself. You need evidence. You can’t act on a feeling.

He closed his notes.

Went to check the bracelet one more time before bed.

Both beads intact. The mala solid.

He stood over the sleeping figure of the king of Valdris and thought about a spirit that called itself the one because it had forgotten everything else.

You were a person, Elian thought. Before all of this. You had a name and a life and someone buried you for it.

I’m going to find out who you were.

And then this ends.

He went to bed.

Set his intention.

Slept.

He checked the bracelet before bed.

Both whole. The mala settled.

He looked at the sending in the corridor one more time.

We’re coming for you, he thought. Just hold on a little longer.

The sending stared back.

Patient. Purposeful.

Tomorrow, Elian thought. The blood ritual tomorrow. And then we find out who you were.

He went to bed.

Set his intention.

Slept.

He stood at the sitting room door for a moment.

Looked back at the corridor where the sending stood.

Tomorrow, he thought. We find out who you were.

He went to bed.

He looked at the sitting room one more time before leaving.

The ritual materials. The notes. Everything prepared.

Tomorrow, he thought. We find out who the sending was.

He went to bed.

Set his intention.

Tomorrow.