Page 42 of Fated to the Demon Lord

“For my sake. I am searching for something to grab onto.”

He hesitated, then said, “I released my servants a long time ago. After most of my family died, I had no reason to keep them on. Erlinen and Feron refused to leave, so I allowed them to stay. Then, once I was dead and had agreed to Spiritu Malignos staying on my property, I realized they would be in danger of possession. So I tried to send them away again. But they still refused to go.”

“They are loyal to you.”

“It was foolish. I warned them my protection would be limited, and yet they didn’t seem to care.” He took an agitated step, his wings spreading and then snapping tight.

“You are loyal to those you care about. That seems pretty honorable to me.”

“Yes, but what does it matter if I can’t…” He expelled a fast breath without finishing and ran his clawed fingers through his hair.

“Can’t what?”

“Listen, the only thing that keeps you safe is the system that society sets in place for you. You can’t escape it, but if you live inside it, then it provides safety. Honor be damned.”

“I don’t know about that. I lived every day in the human kingdom trying to live by the system given to me, and in the end it didn’t protect me or my brother.”

He stared at me, his expression turning thoughtful. He cleared his throat. “Do you have information on who purchased your brother?”

I shook my head, a wretchedness overcoming me about how hopeless my chances of finding Gerand were. “All I know is that they sold him a few days after we were taken to the market in Sheraniv.”

“How long ago was this?”

“About nine months.”

He nodded slowly, something like admiration flickering across his face. “And somehow, you survived in those demon camps all this time with nothing but a plan to kill them and escape.”

“I’d failed Gerand. I was determined to make it up to him.”

“Was?”

I released a sigh. In that instant, I had no desire to talk about my convoluted Gerand plans. But I was willing to attempt a little trust in the demon standing across from me. I unclasped my cloak and tossed it onto the bed. Then I took another step toward him and held out my hand. “Dance with me.”

His brow drew together. “Is that all you wanted to learn about me?”

“I wanted to get a better idea of who you are. And I think I did. Will you take my hand?”

He took it and pulled me close, his fingers coming around to my lower back, the sharp coldness of his body surrounding me. “Move with me,” he murmured. He stepped, and I moved. He stepped again and frowned. “You’re still too stiff.”

“I’m doing the best I can.”

“Close your eyes.”

I gazed up into his face one last time and saw the gentle determination there. If Vaelor’s servants trusted him, I could let go and trust him in this instant. I shut my eyes.

“Now, try not to anticipate my movements. Be open to whatever you feel.”

I felt a pressure at my back and I stepped forward—one on my hand and we eased backward.

“That’s it. Again.”

We moved together; me responding to his signals, until it became easy, almost light.

It reminded me of the town festivals. The firelight and the food. The music. I was rarely asked to dance because I was normally there trying to sell herbs, but also because of my reputation—especially after Mother killed someone. But I’d watch as the other women were swept around the square, their braided hair pulled up and their skirts flowing in rhythm with their steps. The men moved to the beat—the tune soft and melodic.

“Are you humming?”

I opened my eyes and Vaelor was staring at me, his eyebrows raised.