Demon Slave (Shadow Quest Book 2)

by Kiersten Fay

  Avaline was like honor dipped in purity and coated with innocence. She desperately wanted to believe that Nadua was alive but strove to keep her hope buried. Anya loved that this girl felt so strongly for a member of her family, and envied that she had been able to spend so much time with Nadua.

  At first, Bastian had been on edge, stating that he didn’t trust these strange people. Anya had reassured him that their intentions were to find the truth, same as them. It had taken some time for Sebastian and Wren to stop sizing each other up. Anya still wasn’t sure if they were through, and neither realized how extraordinarily similar they were to each other. Protectiveness fell from them in misty waves.

  There were those around that Anya did not like. A dangerous turmoil haunted this place, filling the corners with dull energy.

  “You seem to have a unique gift, Anya.” Avaline’s soft voice was amplified by the structure around them. “But I don’t understand why you would not be able to feel your sister at all times.”

  “I cannot say myself,” she replied. “Sometimes I feel them both and other times it’s just Marik. The last time I sensed them, a massive storm kept us from entering the atmosphere.”

  “It could be the caves blocking you in some way,” Wren suggested from behind them.

  “Caves?” Bastian asked.

  “The Caves of Kayata. A labyrinth of sorts inside the mountains to the south. If the demon took Nadua alive, I’d have to assume he’d taken her into the caves.”

  “Well, let’s go to these caves then.” Bastian sounded as though he were ready to head out right away.

  “It would be no small task to search the caves. They are thousands of times longer than the whole of Sori, and there is no known map of their passageways. Plus, they are considered to be cursed by the ancients.”

  The young queen lowered her head. “Wren is correct. There would be no hope of finding them.”

  Heavy footsteps echoed just before a guard appeared.

  * * *

  “My Queen.” The guard rushed toward them, bowed. Ava saw his urgency and nodded for him to speak. “Wren, Tamir has gone mad. He is attacking a young messenger in the courtyard.”

  Wren shot ahead of Ava and she rushed to follow. Their guests trailed behind them, confused by the sudden commotion.

  Tamir stood in the courtyard, sword out straight. On the other end of it was a frightened messenger, yielding a blade of his own. A red line ran down his arm.

  “Give it to me!” Tamir hollered.

  “What is this?” Wren demanded, striding forward and drawing his weapon, unsure of who was in the wrong.

  Tamir’s eyes went wide and he looked between Wren and the group of newcomers. Without answering, Tamir’s metal lashed out for the messenger’s throat.

  A high pitched clang resonated in the air. Wren stood, blocking the young man, his sword holding back Tamir.

  “Tamir!” Ava glided down the small set of stairs that lead from the entryway. “What are you doing? Drop your weapon.”

  He didn’t. He just glared at Wren, their blades still pushing together.

  “Now!”

  With a sneer, he obeyed and stepped back, yet the hilt stayed tightly in his palm. “I recognize this man, Your Highness. He’s a rebel. Here to spread lies. I meant only to protect the kingdom.”

  The messenger stowed his weapon and stood straight. “I am no rebel. I am here on behalf of the royal House of Dion. I was ordered to give my message to Wren of the guard and Wren alone. No one else. This person”—he pointed to Tamir—“tried to take it from me by force.”

  Ava struggled to hide her confusion. “On behalf of the House of Dion, you bring a message to Wren?”

  “Yes, my lady.”

  “Queen,” Ava corrected. “Queen Avaline, of the House of Dion.”

  The man’s jaw dropped. Recovering, he knelt in the snow and bowed his head. “Forgive me, My Queen, I did not recognize you.”

  A wave of surprise iced through her. She gaped at Wren then and realized he was not meeting her eyes. “Which of my family would send a messenger who does not know his queen, to a person we all see on a daily basis?”

  “Prince Cyrus, My Queen.”

  Ava’s shock was replaced with indignation. “Prince Cyrus is dead,” she snapped. She had never known her father’s brother, but had read about him in her history books. Nadua had always spoken fondly of him.

  Wren finally looked at her. A hidden knowledge blazed from within the stormy depths of his eyes.

  Ava couldn’t find her voice. She was so immersed in the disturbing idea that Wren was keeping something from her that she hadn’t heard Anya murmur in her mate’s ear, and she hadn’t noticed Sebastian slip out of sight.

  “Well,” her voice cracked. “Give him the message.”

  Wren stowed his blade and reached for the small piece of parchment. He was silent as he read. Then his body went tense and his head snapped to Tamir.

  Tamir’s blade rose swiftly and he struck at Wren.

  Ava screamed.

  From seemingly out of nowhere, Sebastian appeared behind Tamir. His fist clamped around Tamir’s wrist, halting his swing just in time. A loud crack sounded and Tamir cried out in pain as his blade fell from his grip. His free arm formed an angry fist aimed at Sebastian, but the demon easily subdued it and broke his other wrist.

  Wren nodded in thanks and called for a garrison of soldiers to take Tamir to the dungeons, adding that Nakul should be found and arrested as well.

  “What is going on?” Ava demanded.

  Wren gave her a guilty expression. “We need to talk.”

  Chapter 25

  Marik hadn’t left his room in four days.

  The first day, Nadua left him alone, hoping he only needed time to cool down. The second, she knocked, but it was as if he knew it was her at the door and didn’t answer. The third, she demanded he let her in and kicked at the thick wood but he yelled for her to go away. The forth, she warned that she would have Rex knock down the door, but when it came time, Marik threatened to leave him here to rot and Rex caved.

  Today was day five.

  The only people he opened for were the servants, who were apparently ordered to keep his supply of alcohol coming. Scared out of their minds, they would leave pitchers by the entrance, knock, and then scurry away.

  Often, Nadua would pace her room, worrying about him, wondering if she had approached him wrong, or it he would have reacted so badly no matter what.

  At night she couldn’t sleep, missing her demon’s breath on her neck as he cozily slumbered, molded against her. One night she crept down the hall and rapped lightly on his door, asking if she could but sleep with him. He had given a gentle no. It was hard not to feel like a beggar.

  Cyrus was true to his word, gifting her with an exquisite edisdon cloak and matching boots. The decorative chain at the neck matched her necklace. It was beautiful. Yet, all she could think was how upset Marik would be if he saw it.

  Or maybe he no longer cared.

  Before he’d locked himself in his room, he sounded totally on board with her Serakian plan. His voice had been so harsh when he said it she almost wanted to cry—suddenly horrified by the idea that she might lose him. But wasn’t that what she wanted?

  Then later she realized all she was doing was thinking about Marik. His absence made her feel strangely hollow.

  When had she grown to care for him so much?

  Rex was becoming more comfortable with his surroundings, and had even begun striking conversation with the people around him. They’d been fearful of him at first, but seemed to tolerate his presence more and more each day.

  Desperate for advice, Nadua asked Rex what she should do about Marik.

  He looked uncomfortable with her direct questions, but replied, “I’ve never been mated, but demons in any state respond most strongly to physical persuasion. Fighting or, uh, other physical contact.”

  Nadua was afraid Rex was going to ask her if she wanted
him to beat Marik senseless, but he left it at that.

  After watching yet another servant produce a pitcher, an idea sparked. Nadua followed a short ways behind the girl and waited for her to knock before rushing away. When the door creaked open, she caught it with her foot.

  He tried to force the door shut, but she faked a sound of pain, hoping it would weaken his resolve. It worked. He backed away from the door and she barged in, slamming it closed behind her.

  His room looked just like hers. A small hearth with a fire bathed everything in a soft orange glow.

  Voice like gravel, he ground out, “Are you hurt?” His eyes were rimmed in red, and didn’t make contact with hers.

  “Yes.”

  “How? Where? Do you need a doctor?”

  “No. My heart is hurt.”

  Marik snorted, and took a large gulp from the heavy pitcher. “Whose isn’t?”

  She supposed she deserved that a little. “I want you to talk to me about what happened to you.”

  “Not going to happen.” He paused, swaying slightly. “Didn’t I tell you I don’t want to see you? Go be with your ice man while you can.”

  “I don’t want to be with Cyrus.”

  Marik shook his head and drank deep again.

  “It’s true. I want to be with you.”

  “Well I don’t want to be with you. So—go—away.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Am I?” He snapped. “Look at you. Tiny little thing with barely any meat on you. Nearly helpless without your army and that beast you ride. More trouble than you’re worth.” He put his finger in the air as if he remembered more. “You whine over some young chit. What’s her name? Ava. How you miss her and wish only to see her again.”

  Nadua crossed her arms and held her tongue.

  “At least you handle a bow like a seasoned warrior. Watching you wield it is...your hair and skin are too soft.” He shook his head as if he’d forgotten his point. “You’re not even my kind.” He lifted the pitcher to his lips, but looked at her over the top of it, waiting for a response.

  “I need you to stop drinking, and to stop pouting.”

  “Get out, Nadua. Leave me be.” He gave her his back, gulping from the pitcher. “I don’t pout.”

  “I’m not leaving this room until I get through to you one way or another.”

  “I can force you out.” He continued to drink and made no move toward her.

  “Look at me.”

  He didn’t.

  Sighing, Nadua pulled at the tie of her bodice and began removing her clothing. His shoulders went stiff but he still didn’t turn when the fabric hit the ground, pooling around her feet. She stepped out of it and sauntered toward him, pressing her hands against his back.

  No response.

  She tried to move in front of him but he sidestepped her.

  “Marik, please look at me. I want you to touch me, hold me, kiss me like you did before. Bite me, I don’t care.” He made no reply. “Are you afraid you’ll blackout again? We can work on that too, like you suggested. I want to help you.”

  “You don’t get it. I’m done. Just go.”

  Her throat tightened. “You’re just giving up? Because I saw something you didn’t want me to see?”

  “It’s more than that, but that is part of it, yes.”

  “What more?” Nadua held her breath, surprised at how badly his words were hurting her.

  Marik was cold and dismissive, speaking to her as if she were no more important to him than any other person. She suddenly felt as though she had lost something magnificent. Something few experienced. Nadua couldn’t describe it, but the loss of it was devastating.

  He shook his head.

  Something snapped in her. “Just tell me already!”

  “It’s because I can’t make you happy!”

  Nadua halted in surprise. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Yes, you can.”

  With his back to her still, he turned his head a fraction. “When can I? Maybe when I’m fucking your brains out.”

  She was taken aback, but knew he was only being churlish to make her want to leave. He thought she should find him repulsive and unworthy. But there was a deep sense of integrity inside him that he didn’t even see. He had proven it at every turn.

  “Now look at you. Naked as a whore and looking for more.”

  “You bastard!” She kicked out the back of his leg with her heel. He went to one knee with a growl, but sprang back up. So she did it again. “Do you want me to hate you? Fine, I hate you. Are you happy? Does it make it better?”

  “Yes, it does.”

  “You don’t care about me at all then?”

  His shoulder twitched.

  Nadua decided she needed to change tactics. Standing naked arguing with him wasn’t working. Not to mention she felt quite silly.

  “Fine, you stubborn demon. Prove it.”

  She crossed to the bathroom and hesitated next to the tub. The servants filled it with fresh water every morning, not realizing the freezing temperature did not appeal to any of them.

  “What are you doing?” Marik leaned against the door jam. The fact that he followed her was a good sign.

  “First, you will apologize for that comment. Then, I want your arms around me.”

  He shrugged and swallowed more alcohol. To her delight, he was drinking her in too.

  “I’m not going to beg.”

  “Good, it wouldn’t do you any good.”

  “But I will get what I want.”

  “How’s that?”

  Nadua stepped into the tub, hissing at the icy temperature.

  “That water is not warm.”

  She lowered herself farther. Every cell screamed in agony, but she forced herself in until she was submerged up to her neck.

  “You daft woman. Get out of there.”

  Her body went stiff from the icy shock. She had to rip apart her jaws to speak. “First, apologize.”

  “You can’t stay in there forever.”

  After a moment she began to shiver, teeth chattering and skin turning nearly as blue as a Cyrellian.

  Marik sat down the pitcher. “Damn it, Nadua! Come out of there.”

  She pulled her knees to her chest as if that would help. The water was so much colder than she’d expected.

  Looking bewildered, Marik’s features turned to concern. “Fine, I’m sorry. Stop this now. Your lips are turning purple.”

  Nadua wanted to speak, but she could no longer form words. Pain laced up her arms and legs. The task of breathing was increasingly difficult.

  Then Marik went to her, pulling her from the tub and carrying her to the bed. She couldn’t feel his hands. He wrapped her in a blanket, and then crossed with her to the fire and sat with her at the hearth. His arms folded around her.

  “T-t-told y-you.”

  “That was stupid,” he growled, staring into the fire.

  Probably the stupidest thing she’d ever done.

  Nadua laid her head to rest on Marik’s shoulder and curled into his heat, but the shivers continued.

  “Blanket’s n-not helping. I n-need you.”

  Marik didn’t hesitate. He stripped and wrapped them both in the blanket, pressing his warm flesh against her. She smiled with triumph, even though her skin was prickling with tiny explosions of pain.

  “Why did you do that?”

  “You w-wouldn’t listen.”

  “So you hurt yourself?” He was shaking with anger.

  “D-Didn’t think it w-would be so bad.” She wiggled closer to him.

  “Do not ever do that again.”

  “I have to speak with you about your past. I have to tell you what I saw.”

  He went stiff. “Nadua, don’t.”

  “You didn’t hurt those girls. It wasn’t you.”

  “Stop it.”

  “It’s true.”

  “For the love of the gods, Nadua! I was there, I know what I did!”

  “No, you don’t. You wer
e driven to madness but you didn’t touch them.”

  He shook his head.

  Placing her hands on either side of this face, she forced him to look at her. “My first vision of you in the arena was days before I let you kiss me. Do you think I would have allowed that if I had seen you do something so terrible?”

  She could see the hope in his eyes, his mind working to believe what she said.

  “How can you be sure?”

  “Visions of the future are foggy and unclear. This was so clear it was almost like I was there with you.”

  The pain on his face broke her heart. As if he were gripping a lifeline, he clutched her tight and buried his head in the crook of her neck. She didn’t know how long they stayed like that but her eyes had grown heavy and she had stopped shivering by the time he moved again.

  Gently, he lifted her to the bed and settled next to her. She nuzzled up to his chest, and he offered no protest.

  Just as she was about to sink into slumber, he whispered in her ear, “I’m sorry you had to see it.”

  She replied, “I’m sorry you had to live it.”

  * * *

  Almost as soon as his eyelids closed, Marik was asleep. His dreams were mild compared to the previous few nights, and the sweet scent of his mate eased him as his unconscious mind warred with the new idea of his past.

  When light drifted in, rousing him, there was a split second of fear that she would be gone and that everything from the night before had only been a drunken delusion.

  But her lovely body was draped over his in the most gratifying way. Her leg trapped one of his, her arm folded over his chest, and her head rested atop his shoulder, a mess of red hair fanned out behind her.

  By the slow pattern of her breath, Marik could tell she was still asleep. He took the opportunity to marvel at her beauty. Her plump lips were slightly parted, allowing her breath to tingle across his chest. With her hair swept back, a wee pointed ear with such a delicate odd curve was revealed. He knew her body to be just as perfectly shaped under the heavy blanket.