Page 97 of Fated to the Demon Lord

I nodded and drew off my dress before pulling on the too-big clothes.

“I hate leaving the books here,” I said as I dressed.

“I’ll retrieve them when I have a moment, but I refuse to let you waltz into camp with a hedge witch book in your possession.” He noticed me trying to hold up my pants. “Here.” He took a small length of rope and tied it around my waist to keep the bottoms from falling, and then reached down and tore off the ends. He scrutinized me long and hard, his hands balling and unballing—signs of worry.

“The look will do. But your scent will be obvious,” he said.

I pulled the last bottle of clear potion from my cloak before discarding the covering. Tipping the glass cylinder, I downed its contents and thought about the scent I wanted. On this occasion, the potion would give me the scent of a human boy. It really was a clever concoction. In the future, I’d have to have my mother teach me how to make it.

If I lived through this. I glanced at Vaelor.

If we both made it through this.

Vaelor sniffed. “I’m glad you don’t smell like that all the time.”

I gave a small pout. “Lord Vaelor,” I said in mock offense. “Are you saying your feelings for me are dependent on my smell?”

He snorted. “If you can overlook my looks, I suppose I can overlook your scent.”

We walked through the forest toward his manor and the Spiritu Malignos army. My playful mood ended as I thought of how I was about to walk into a camp of demons—many of whom wanted me dead. “The entire army isn’t going to be competing in this part of the Final Proving, are they?” I asked.

“No. Spiritu Malignos will only accept those who were in positions of authority before they were killed. They’ll accept me because I am a lord and I am allowing them to stay on my land.”

I took in a breath. “They’ll accept Raxus, too. Once he brings news of Kingdom Aeria.”

Vaelor nodded. “Sergeants aren’t high enough ranking to compete, but Spiritu Malignos is known to reward those who bring them favorable information. If they like what Raxus has to say about taking over Misophae with Aeria, they will most likely make an exception and allow him to compete if he desires.”

A shiver rolled over me as I realized how horribly difficult this might be. We passed the guards without any problems. I walked behind Vaelor with my head lowered. These soldiers were most likely members of Throk’s army and weren’t part of the mercenary army hellbent on finding me and killing me.

The camp came into view—tents dotting the field outside of Vaelor’s walled manor which sat off to the left. More tents disappeared into the trees to the right. I’d gotten a brief aerial glimpse of the layout when we flew in. Even though I couldn’t see it now that we were on the ground, I knew a large open area existed on the far side of camp where many demons were gathered.

As we moved into the encampment, the low mist clung tenaciously to my ankles. I looked around and my heart sank. Demons wearing bodies with black cracks in their skin filled the camp. They lumbered around with large, glowing eyes, some moving more naturally than others. A few staggered awkwardly, as if they were still learning how to use their new flesh. Most had probably once belonged to the mercenary army. And I had to walk straight through them and hope none of them recognized me.

Vaelor and I had argued over this part. I’d wanted to sneak into the servants’ area and hoped I remained unnoticed. But Vaelor had insisted I stay by his side while we tested my disguise—to ensure he’d be nearby if anyone identified me before going off on my own. Besides, it wasn’t as if the human slaves themselves wouldn’t rat me out if they thought they could get a boon from it.

A deep, rotting stench permeated the camp. We passed a station with dead bodies of demons stacked—flies buzzed around decaying corpses. From their bloated bodies, I realized they were from the mercenary army—the ones I’d poisoned. Racks were spread out—skins stretched out along them, dripping in the sun. Other Spiritu Malignos soldiers held long swords and were in the process of cutting into the carcasses, scraping the skin from bone and muscle. Fuck. I looked at Vaelor, whose jaw clenched as he averted his gaze. Was Vaelor’s body one of those that were being skinned and tanned?

Looking at the massive tents, it became clear what Spiritu Malignos used the dead bodies for—tanned skins of different colors sewed together to make a canvas. Bile rose in my throat, and I quickly followed Vaelor’s lead and averted my gaze.

Eyes shifted toward me, and I heard several sniffs in the air as we walked. Many snorted and turned to face Vaelor, looking at him with rage and envy. He wore my blood—the blood of the little human woman whom they so desired to take their revenge out on themselves. He’d stolen the honor from them and from the deadliness in their gazes, they wouldn’t forget it.

It was a testament to how much they relied on their sense of smell that they didn’t give me another glance once they determined I wasn’t the right sex.

Vaelor came to the center of the camp where a sizable dais had been set up. He saluted the guard standing there. “I’m Lord Vaelor. I’ve come to present myself to Commander Throk for consideration for the tournament.”

“Wait here.” The guard stepped through the gathering of demons.

Plenty of Spiritu Malignos demons lingered around the dais. A dread gathered in me. Raxus could have bonded with a body already. He could be standing in front of me right now and I wouldn’t even know it.

A bulkier demon with ram’s horns shifted to the side, revealing a pole standing on the far side of the dais. A human man was tied to the post—or what was left of him. I stared in shocked horror. His clothes were long stripped away, his flesh covered in his own blood from the cuts. Black and blue bruises collected over his torso. One side of his body appeared caved in, and he shuddered dreadfully with each breath.

I wanted to rush over and free him but held myself still. Gods. Demons.

The guard returned. “Follow me,” he said to Vaelor and led us into the gathered assembly.

Throk reclined on the center of the erected dais. His enormous fist gripped a chalice that I recognized from Vaelor’s mansion. He tipped it back, a crimson liquid coating his lips. Behind him lounged the two large gargoyle lackeys that tended to remain nearby. They were large and intimidating, lethargic boredom etched into their expressions.

Next to Throk sat an abaddon demon with long dark hair and a sophisticated air. He wore a deep crimson suit and had pale horns that curled upward. His eyes glowed with a soft violet light. He didn’t have the cracked skin or glowing orange eyes of the Spiritu Malignos army.