Page 99 of Fated to the Demon Lord

Vaelor’s body was tense, and for a moment I feared he’d launch himself at Throk next. But then Vaelor bowed. “Sir, I wish to enter the tournament for command of the new recruits.”

“I thought you might. We have had eleven others put themselves forward for the position so far, our latest being Raxus here.”

Throk motioned to a hulking creature that lumbered up to us. He was a towering blend of troll and minotaur, with coarse gray-green skin, a bull's broad head, and thick black horns that curled along the sides of his temples. So Raxus was here. Damn, he looked big. His eyes shot to mine, and I dropped my gaze to the dirt, my heart racing much too fast. Shit. He probably heard it.

“And you have a new slave, I see,” Raxus said in a voice that sounded like rocks crumbling. I didn’t need to raise my head, yet I sensed his stare lingering upon me. I forced myself to stand still, to stare at the ground. If our eyes met, I knew he’d recognize who I was.

“Yes, I seek permission for him to be put with the other humans to serve the camp when he is not in my employ,” Vaelor said, his voice a bit too even. He was forcing himself to act unfazed.

“As you wish.” Throk shifted his gaze to a nearby guard. “See that he is shown to the slave section and assigned a task.”

“Yes, sir.” The guard turned to me. “Come with me, boy.”

I bowed and hurried after him.

Be careful, Denara. If you run into trouble let me know.

I will.

“The day is for the living,” Throk said as I left. “So tonight we’ll start the tournament for leadership.”

I wanted to glance over my shoulder to check if Raxus continued to watch me as I walked away, but I didn’t dare. Did he suspect anything? Had we fooled him?

We moved across the grassy field away from the dais toward a set of tents on the outside of camp. The guard brought me up to a jackal-headed demon with a green-scaled body and a long crocodile-like tail.

“This is your overseer, slave. You’ll do as he says.” The guard shifted his attention to the other demon. “This is Lord Vaelor’s slave. When he isn’t in the service of his lordship, he is to be here, serving the camp.”

“Yes, sir,” Jackal head said. He looked me over. “You are a scrawny one, aren’t you?”

I lowered my gaze.

“What’s wrong, boy? Can’t speak?”

“Yes, sir. I am scrawny, sir,” I said in a deep voice.

“Go to the kitchen tent.” He thumbed behind him. “You will help draw water for dinner. There are buckets behind the tent.”

“Yes, sir.”

I walked behind the tent and found the buckets—and my jaw dropped. Good gods, they were huge.

I picked one up and followed another boy to the river. I filled it up and lifted—it didn’t budge. That wouldn’t work. I dumped about half out and then hoisted again. That would have to do. I staggered to the tent, wondering how the others did this for multiple meals a day.

I set my bucket next to the others and surveyed the area before slipping into the large kitchen tent. Long tables covered in food—mostly bloodied meat—filled the space. Humans stood at the table, eyes down, set on their tasks of slicing and preparing the food. I hurried from table to table until I found her. Mira.

She was peeling the skin off a small animal, blood coating her hands.

“Mira,” I whispered.

She was the same Mira. And yet she was different—her shoulders hunched, lines around her dark eyes, and trembling hands. “Go away, I’m not going to give you scraps.”

I didn’t know what she meant. Did the other boys often beg for raw meat? “Mira,” I moved closer. “It’s me.”

She turned and scrutinized me. “Who?”

“Denara.”

Her gaze widened, and she took me in one more time. “Denar⁠—”