by Emma Fenton
“I just don’t—ahh.” Feodor stumbled over an exposed root. He caught himself at the last second on a low-hanging branch. From Ria’s other side, Peryn tried not to snicker too loudly. Once the prince had righted himself, he cleared his throat. “I just don’t see the appeal.”
“Yes, so you’ve said,” Peryn drawled. The prince scowled, but otherwise ignored him.
“In my country,” Feodor continued. “There is nothing but sand for miles. Nothing grows there, except around the rivers. Your Helish trees are very…different.”
Ria was about to step in with all the wonderful benefits of the Helish climate, but Peryn beat her to it.
“If you miss your country so much, Prince Feodor, perhaps you should return there,” the demon said pleasantly.
“You misunderstand me, Lord Hollbrook.” Feodor’s tone was no less pleasant, but his smile was clearly fake. “I am merely unused to spending time outdoors due to my home country’s hostile environment. It is taking me some time to acclimate.”
“Then I congratulate you,” Peryn said. Ria was immediately on alert. Knowing Peryn, he was likely about to deliver yet another backhanded compliment. “If I were in your position, I would find the difference in cultures insurmountable.”
Feodor, to his credit, didn’t back down. “I shall thank the stars that I am of a hardier nature.”
As Feodor walked ahead, Ria fell back to jab Peryn in the side, ignoring the way the pain echoed in her own ribcage. The demon glared down at her.
“He started it.”
“No,” she said firmly. “He didn’t.”
“I suppose you’ll ask me to play nice.” Peryn sneered at the last word.
Ria raised a brow, fighting to keep her smile at bay. “That would be asking too much of you. I’ll settle for you not being openly antagonistic.”
“Hah. You haven’t seen antagon—eughk.” The demon swiped furiously at his face, muttering curses under his breath, effectively ruining the haughty air he’d been putting on. Thin, silvery web clung to his hair and across his skin, sticking to his fingertips even when he tried to pull it away. His nose wrinkled in disgust, and he waved his hand about, trying to shake the web from his fingers to no avail.
Ria laughed at the oddly human gesture. “I wouldn’t have thought you would be afraid of spiders.”
He turned to glare at her, but with the spider-web still tangled in his hair, there was nothing menacing about him at all.
“I am not afraid of spiders,” he spat. Ria pursed her lips to keep another bout of laughter from slipping out. “I just don’t want to wear them.”
Peryn ran his hands through his hair again, but only succeeded in further entangling the web. It was now stuck not only in his hair, but also hanging off his ear, across his forehead, and in-between his fingers like the webbing on waterfowl feet. The demon grew increasingly furious with the strands of web, enough so that he looked ready to burn it off of him and take the whole forest with it. Ria shook her head. As much fun as it was to watch him suffer from something so mundane, she took pity on him.
“Come here.” She picked up a thin stick on the ground, which the demon eyed warily, as if she might beat him with it. Not out of the realm of possibility, Ria thought dryly. But she rolled her eyes anyway. “You’ll have to bend down a bit so I can reach.”
Peryn’s eyes kept darting between her and the stick, but he did as she asked. When the top of his head was at eye-level, Ria carefully scraped the twig through his hair to catch the web. Unlike the demon, she could see what she was doing and took care not to push the strands of sticky silk further into his hair. It looked soft, and for a second, she wondered what it would be like to run her hands through it. You’re losing it, Ria, she told herself, shaking her head. She turned her attention to the bit of web hanging at his ear and flicked it away easily with the stick.
“I’m done with your hair. You can stand up straight,” she said.
He did, and she wasted no time in grabbing him by the wrist—she tried to ignore the humming of magic underneath his skin, how it warmed her—and hauled his hand up to the light so she could see the silvery strings better. It was strangely beautiful, the way the web glittered in the sunlight, how it wrapped around his hands, making him look like he was holding a string of thin crystal. She pushed those thoughts from her mind. It only took a few more flicks of the stick in between his fingers to collect the webbing on the twig. She released him hurriedly, dropping his wrist as though it had burned her, and tossed the stick over her shoulder. She felt his eyes on her and cleared her throat.
“Watch where you’re going next time.” Ria very pointedly did not look at the demon as she started forward. She was going to drive herself crazy at this rate. It would have been one thing to think he was handsome, beautiful even, if she didn’t know what he was. But there must have been something horribly wrong with her if she could still find him attractive even knowing that he was a being of darkness.
Even more infuriating was that she had seen some of his worst attributes herself. She knew that he had dubious morals and a superiority complex. She knew that he’d rather kill someone than compromise with them. She knew that if not for the bond, he would have hurt her by now, and he wouldn’t have felt bad about it. I just need to keep reminding myself of these things. Don’t let him fool you. Because it was far too easy to be distracted by him, and if there was one thing she couldn’t afford right now, it was distractions.
Peryn stiffened, but Ria kept walking. How typical of him to get offended when she ignored him when he was content to do the same to her. Hypocrite. As if her telling him to watch out was even half as offensive as when he’d told her she’d scare off wild animals. She huffed a small laugh. His ego is so fragile. For all his stony exterior, it seemed he couldn’t handle a taste of his own medicine.
“Ria, wait,” he said, his voice low and commanding.
She rolled her eyes. As if she had any intention of taking orders from him. He could act the part of the intimidating demon all he wanted, but their bond leveled the playing field. He had no power over her, not if she didn’t let him.
“Stop.” This time, his order was accompanied by a firm grip around her wrist, jerking her arm backwards. She twisted to face him, hand automatically reaching for the knife at her hip, but the look on his face made her pause. Peryn was frowning, brow creased, but he wasn’t looking at her. Instead, his dark eyes scanned the forest. “Something’s wrong.”
Ria instantly started searching the woods around them, looking for any sign of danger, but there was nothing. The forest was still, silent except for the faint crunching of leaves underfoot as the other three men fanned out in search of deer. She was about to tell Peryn that there was nothing out there when she finally felt it. It was subtle, so faint that if the demon hadn’t said anything, she doubted she would have even noticed.
“Magic,” she whispered, a shudder rippling down her spine. Yes, the forest was still. Too still, as if the air itself was forced not to move. The tendrils of this magic were prickly on her skin and wriggled unpleasantly under her fingernails. It was nothing like the warm buzzing that emanated from Peryn. No, this reminded her far too much of her experience on the library. Just the thought was enough to set her on edge.
Peryn’s eyes snapped to hers and he gave a sharp nod.
“We have to get out of here,” Ria said. She could feel the panic rising like a tide in her throat, threatening to drown her. The faceless beings she’d seen that night in the hallway still frightened her; she had no desire to face a magic-wielder of that skill level, even with a demon at her back. And she had no doubt now that she’d felt the way the magic dug into her flesh: those same forces, whatever they were, were at work here.
Her gaze landed on Feodor and Duke Keffleton, who were the closest to her. She had to warn them, convince them to leave now. If she told Feodor she wasn’t feeling well, he would escort her back to the palace. At least he would be safe. She had made it no more than
two steps when she was unceremoniously yanked back.
“There’s no time,” Peryn said, and he looked frustrated.
No. More than that, Ria thought. He’s nervous. His eyes were locked on hers, his grip on her wrist unforgiving. But there was something panicked about the tension in his shoulders and the way his tone suggested that arguing with him would be a fruitless endeavor. He’s scared, she realized. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen, and he can’t stop it.
“We can’t just leave them—” she started.
“I don’t care.”
Feodor, by now, had noticed their argument and was marching over, a borderline murderous glare fixed on Peryn. For once, Ria was grateful that the prince was so eager to defend her, if only because it meant that he was giving her the perfect opportunity to get him to safety. Duke Keffleton and Lord Izan would have to fend for themselves, but Ria wasn’t too heartbroken over that—even if the small part of her left over from before magic and demons and murder plots had taken over her life rebelled at the idea of leaving anyone behind.
“What’s going on here?” Feodor asked, eyeing Peryn suspiciously. It did not escape Ria’s notice that the prince had his hand on his sword as though he was ready to fight the demon should it come to that.
Peryn smiled tightly. “Her majesty nearly fainted. I suggested that she needed to return to the castle.”
Feodor’s eyes widened in concern as he turned to her. “Ria, I thought you said—”
But he never got to finish his sentence, because at that moment, a large stag burst from a cluster of bushes near Duke Keffleton, head bowed and antlers low as he charged at the man. Even without standing at its full height, the creature was nearly as tall as Keffleton himself and fast. So fast, that Ria could do nothing but watch in horror. Even Peryn, with his demon reflexes, couldn’t reach for his bow and notch it in time. It looked like Keffleton couldn’t either.
The stag angled its head. Keffleton scrambled to get out of the way, but he only had two legs while the stag had four, and he was far too slow. The stag collided with Duke Keffleton, its antlers spearing the man through the chest. The resounding scream was terrible: an awful, ear-splitting sound that would have been unrecognizable as human if not for the way Keffleton’s mouth hung open. The stag was equally terrified, its eyes rolling in panic as it realized its antlers were stuck. The beast tried to shake himself free, just as Duke Keffleton seemed to be trying to dislodge himself by gripping the base of the deer’s antlers.
There was another pained cry—this time from the stag—as an arrow pierced straight through the stag’s chest, then a second and a third. And then the creature fell, antlers—soaked in blood—mercifully sliding out of Keffleton as it went. The duke fell to his knees first, gasping, before toppling over onto his side. Next to Ria, Feodor leaned over and vomited.
Lord Izan was the first to reach Keffleton, discarding his crossbow carelessly on the ground as he knelt by the duke, shedding his outer cloak and using it to wrap around the wounds as tightly as possible. Ria inched closer, Peryn not far behind her. She had seen blood before, of course. She had slain Jaya, had killed her sister by stabbing her through the throat. It had been disgusting, and yet somehow, Ria thought this might be worse.
Duke Keffleton was still very much alive, eyes fluttering as if he was trying to keep his consciousness. His chest rose and fell with pained, ragged breaths, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. Ria was no physician, but she knew that this wasn’t good. Keffleton was at great risk of bleeding out on the forest floor, but even if he managed to survive that, there was still the issue of potential internal bleeding, dying of shock, and the risk of infection.
“It’s the thrice-damned curse,” Keffleton wheezed, inadvertently spitting up more blood when he did so. His eyes went hazy for a moment, as if he was seeing something beyond them. “That witch. That witch! She’s coming for me.”
His arms flailed violently, and Ria took a step away from the man, breath catching in her throat. There was something incredibly unnerving about the man in front of her, and though she knew she should be doing everything in her power to help him, she felt frozen. Her back collided against Peryn, but instead of mocking her for her carelessness or for trying to get away, he gently turned her towards him.
“Go get Duke Keffleton’s horse,” he said, voice firm and strangely grounding. Relief flooded through her at being sent on a task that would get her away from the writhing man on the ground, even if only for a few minutes. “And tell your prince to ride ahead and warn the physicians.” He sneered in Feodor’s general direction where the young man was still retching. “He’ll be useless here.”
She did as she was bid, grabbing Feodor by the elbow as gently as her urgency would allow. His eyes flashed with gratitude when she led him to the horses.
“Ride as quickly as you can,” she urged. “And tell the physicians to prepare for Keffleton. He’ll be on death’s door, if he even makes it back to the palace alive.”
Without waiting for Feodor to mount his steed, she grabbed the reins of Duke Keffleton’s horse and tugged the beast forward. It took only a few minutes for her to reach the spot where Keffleton lay, and as soon as she did, Lord Izan and Peryn gently lifted the man. He looked to have passed out—a small mercy, Ria thought. The ride back to the palace would not be pleasant; it was better Keffleton not be conscious for it.
There was no good way to position the man on the horse. Unconscious as he was, he’d never be able to stay upright, and if they laid him on his back, he’d likely slide right off. Ultimately, they put him on his stomach, though Ria suspected that would be bad for his wounds. But there was nothing for it, she supposed, if they didn’t want to leave him in the forest.
The ride back to the castle was slow, taking nearly twice as long as the ride out to the forest. Keffleton hadn’t reemerged from his state of unconsciousness, not even when they reached the front steps of the palace and finally removed him from his horse onto a gurney that the phsyician’s had prepared. But he was alive for now, and Ria knew the physicians were good at their jobs.
As soon as Keffleton was safely in someone else’s hands, Lord Izan bowed shallowly to Ria.
“I must alert the Council and give them my full report,” he said. He grimaced. “I suspect they will want to begin planning for the worst, in case Keffleton’s death leads to political unrest with Moruna.”
Ria nodded and tried not to visibly show her worries. She had not even considered the political implications of Duke Keffleton’s death. She was not actually sure how important the man was over in Moruna or whether his death would be cause enough to potentially start a war. After all, he was injured on Helish lands while in the Helish court. Even if they could prove that it was a deer that hurt Keffleton and not a citizen of Helhath, it still wouldn’t look good for them. And that’s only if it really was an accident, which Ria sincerely doubted.
“We need to talk,” she murmured to the demon. She gave him a meaningful look. “Privately.”
There was only one place in the castle where they could guarantee that nobody would walk in on them, at least with the Elder Scholar out of town. Ria and the demon parted ways at the top of the stairs. She would head to the entrance by the tapestry since it was nearest her bedroom; he would travel through the shadows as he normally did. It was best not to be seen disappearing off somewhere together.
She didn’t have to wait long in the Elder Scholar’s private study, however. Which was good, because she was feeling restless. If they can use magic like that to get to Keffleton while making it look like an accident, they can do that to me just as easily. She hadn’t felt truly safe in the palace in a long time, but she’d always been confident that nobody could make a move against her without revealing themselves. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“You can sense magic,” Peryn said as the stone door slid shut behind him. He was giving her a curious look. “An unusual gift for a human.”
“Good.” She ignor
ed the almost-compliment. “How likely do you think it is that anyone else in the castle can sense it?”
Peryn frowned. “Very slim chance of that. Maybe your Elder Scholar, since he’s a seer, but that’s it. Even most witches do not have a sensitivity for it. One in a hundred thousand.”
Ria nodded, a small tingle of relief releasing the tension in her spine. She had worried about Peryn being discovered before, but it hadn’t occurred to her to think that someone might be able to feel his magic like she could. Maybe it’s part of the bond, she thought. But if so, then I wouldn’t have noticed it in the library. That was long before I met Peryn. She shook herself out of her thoughts; that was a mystery for another day.
“I think I already know the answer,” Ria said slowly, bracing herself. “But I want to hear you say it. Did you use magic to have Keffleton killed?”
Peryn arched a brow, unimpressed. “You said I couldn’t just kill someone because I didn’t like them.”
“That doesn’t mean you didn’t.” She doubted he took anything she said seriously anyway, and she knew how much he despised Keffleton.
The demon rolled his eyes. “If I was going to kill him, I’d at least have taken the satisfaction of doing it myself, not let some deer have a go. Do you know how many times I’ve wanted to rip his vocal chords out? Fifteen times. Per day. Besides, if I had orchestrated the whole thing, you can be certain he’d already be dead, not just injured. Does that answer your question?”
“Why am I not surprised that your defense against killing him is that you would have done it better?” she muttered. Honestly.
“Which leaves the question of who’s actually responsible,” the demon continued, ignoring her.
“Isn’t it obvious,” Ria said with a bitter laugh as she sank into the Elder Scholar’s chair, suddenly feeling very tired. She sighed. “But I was rather hoping you would disprove my theory.”
