Page 55 of Fated to the Demon Lord

“I’m your slave, sir. What do you care what I want?”

He gazed at me, open and curious, his feline ears flicking. “You look like her. The same eyes and hair. The same way your shoulders square and jaw clenches when you become determined.”

I stared at him, my heart rate speeding up. “You’re speaking about…”

“Your mother.”

A blast of icy realization froze me. The revelation was a slap in the face. “You know my mother?”

He held up a hand. “Listen.”

I remained very still and listened. After a little time, I heard what he did. Demons crunching through the forest. Bargoth hurried over and picked at the knot, trying to set me free. But he wasn’t fast enough. Demon slavers entered our small clearing.

“Bargoth?” said a hobgoblin slaver.

Bargoth gripped my untied rope, but there was a nervousness in his stance. “Yes?”

“Come with us. Namar wishes to reconsider your offer for the spirit.”

Bargoth frowned, clearly worried it might be a trap, but he said, “Of course.” He picked up my pack and then tugged on my rope, urging me to follow.

We walked to the slave train, my pulse hammering and my palms damp with sweat.

Namar must have changed his mind. There was no way he’d let me go after I attacked him. Why would he? I’d tackled him in front of his underlings, making him look weak.

No, he couldn’t permit me to live.

He was bringing me back to torture and kill me.

The wagon train full of slaves came into view, the stench as strong as ever. A disfigured creature groaned and staggered toward us. I stopped in shock at the boils covering Namar’s body. Some leaked and oozed, and in other places his skin was peeling so badly that he was bleeding. Every step he took was a step of pain. “You have played me ill, Bargoth. You did not say you had a hedge witch with you—where is she?”

I stared in morbid fascination, a dark surprise within me. I glanced toward the trees, wondering if Bargoth did have a hedge witch nearby. But that didn’t make sense. I had Namar’s blood under my nails. I’d said the words…

But I wasn’t a hedge witch. I’d simply chanted the spell in vengeful helplessness.

If Bargoth was surprised, he didn’t show it. “Do you believe she’d be foolish enough to risk capture? She is well-hidden. You and your men can try to sniff her out, but I wish you luck.”

My words. The hedge witch’s spell. My mother’s words. Had my mother been nearby? Could she have laid the curse on him? That was silly. If that were true, she would have to be a hedge witch.

She wasn’t.

She only had a book full of medicinal herbs and plants with all sorts of uses. And had taught me the hedge witch spell long before I’d ever touched a spell book.

Oh gods. Could it be true? Was my mother somewhere nearby?

“Well, what does she want?” Namar begged as he fell to his knees, gasping in pain.

“I believe you grasp her desires,” Bargoth stated.

Namar lifted the finger from around his neck. “Here, take him. Take him.”

Bargoth walked over and took it from Namar. He placed the finger on his neck. He turned to Vaelor. “You’ll come with me. You will harm no one unless I say.”

Vaelor’s eyes narrowed, but he stepped out of the caged wagon. In an instant, he came over and stood next to me.

Namar’s skin had stopped bleeding, but the pain-filled blisters remained. It would take a while to heal. “I won’t forget this treachery, Bargoth. I'll warn the others, and you’ll be banned from every slave-trading camp in the five nations.”

Bargoth didn’t respond as we left, merely saying loud enough for all to hear, “Vaelor, if anyone should come after us, you are free to attack, possess, and kill them.”