Page 54 of Fated to the Demon Lord

Namar’s blood and flesh packed the creases beneath my nails, but my fingers curled around aching emptiness. I didn’t have the talisman.

Namar turned on me, a deadly rage visible in his eyes. He pinned me against the ground. An angry snarl escaped him, and he raised his hand, ready to strike again. The uncontrolled anger in his expression told me I wouldn’t be sold. I was about to be killed.

The leopard-headed demon stepped up and jangled the heavy bag of coins tied to his waist. “If you stay your hand, I‘ll pay double for her.”

Namar released another snarl, bloodlust plastered across his face as he swiped at the red scratch marks. “Triple,” he spat.

“Done,” the buyer said.

Namar released me and rose. “You”—he pointed at a nearby underling—“get her bound before I tear her to shreds.”

The underling nodded. “Yes, Namar, sir.”

My head pounded. My rush of adrenaline mixed with disappointment as I was pulled to my feet and my hands were bound with ropes, my failure tasting like acid on my tongue.

“She has high spirits, but nothing you can’t break over time,” Namar said, handing the length of rope to my buyer.

Vaelor let out an angry hiss.

“She is perfect. Thank you,” the buyer said. The servant returned and placed my bag and the sword in my buyer’s possession. He hefted them as if they were nothing, took my leash and gave a little tug. I stumbled out of the camp. I glanced over my shoulder at Vaelor, who stood at the bars of our wagon watching me, a mixture of worry and fear visible on his face.

“My name is Bargoth,” my new master said as we disappeared into the woods. He lumbered ahead of me. Despite my pounding head, I looked him over. There had to be a way to get rid of him. I knew of several plant mixtures that might accomplish the task, but it would take too much time to gather the ingredients and find the right opportunity. Vaelor only had seven days left. By the time I got everything and put my plan in motion Vaelor would be sold or even dispersed into nothing.

There was only one option.

“Master,” I said. “You are missing out by not purchasing that demon spirit.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“There are spells, many powerful ceremonies that you can use a spirit in. Ones that can give you powers beyond your wildest dreams. I’m familiar with these spells. I can show them to you.”

Bargoth shook his head. “The dealer said he already had a buyer. That implies he is off the market.”

“He only said that because he doubted you were able to match the price. But I assure you, the spirit is well worth it. Using the power he gave you could change your life.” I forced a smile to hide my nerves and tried to appear helpful.

“Tell me your name,” the demon said.

“Denara.”

He nodded as if he somehow knew this. “You really want me to return for him?”

I hesitated. “It’s not what I want. It’s advantageous to you.”

He snorted in disbelief, but then squinted at me. “Are you certain he doesn’t have you under some sort of spell?”

I blinked. “I… don’t… does that matter?”

He walked over to a tree and tied me to it. He dropped my bag at my feet. “Wait here, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Strange demon. I clenched my teeth as I waited, thinking about Namar and how he had handed over his sword to his fellow slaver so he could stab Vaelor over and over. I glanced at my fingers with his flesh buried in them and recalled the spell in the hedge witch book that allowed one to curse their enemy with their blood. The one my mother had taught me. Despite not being a hedge witch, the words still stuck in my head, and it cooled my anger to murmur them over and over. I bent and carved the signs into the dirt.

“Curse my enemy. Curse my enemy. Curse him that refuses to release Vaelor. Curse him until he shall do my bidding and set him free.”

Bargoth returned alone. He gave a long sigh. “It’s no use. Namar is determined to sell him off somewhere else. I don’t even have the money I’d need to pay for him.”

Disappointment burned strongly in my throat. “Then why did you go back?”

“Because you wanted me to.”