Demon Slave (2 page)

“
I agree, send word to
Wren. He is to put additional guards on Ava immediately. Also
inform him that we will be returning sooner than
anticipated.”

“
Yes, Your Highness.” Tamir
turned and walked away, signaling to a lower-ranked soldier as he
went.

Ava was the rightful ruler of the
Cyrellians, and Nadua was sure she would one day prove to be a
great queen. The only problem was Ava was only fifteen years old.
Her father, Fineas, had, on his deathbed, charged Nadua with
protecting the crown and keeping Ava safe from those who would see
themselves on the throne. Ava had been only two years old at the
time. When the decree was made that Nadua would be the proxy queen,
not everyone had been happy about it.

Nadua, for one.

There had been an uproar from not only
commoners, but those who were closest to the crown. Had it not been
for Wren’s loyalty to his king, and thankfully to her and Ava, she
might not have had the power to take control of the situation.

Nadua hoped she was strong enough to
safeguard Ava’s crown until she came of age. She owed it to Fineas
for taking her in when her own planet had come under attack, and
for being so kind to her. He had always treated her like a beloved
daughter. It was a tragedy that he’d had four hundred years with
her, yet only two with his actual daughter.

Though she owed him, and would do everything
she could to keep her promise, Nadua was eager for the
responsibility to be taken from her shoulders. She was never meant
to rule. Kyra, her eldest sister, had been groomed from birth for
the task, not her. If her home planet hadn’t been attacked, and
most of the royals ferried to safety among their many allies, then
Nadua would have lived out a glamorous life as Princess Nadua and
nothing more.

Oh, how I wish I were
home
.

But then she wouldn’t be here to protect
little Ava. Over the years, Nadua had watched her grow from
innocent toddler, to the sweet and caring young adult she was
today. After watching her, helping in her schooling, and joining in
her childish pranks, Nadua loved Ava like a sister. But sometimes
she felt more like a mother.

Nadua wanted Ava to be strong when she
finally became queen. So whenever Nadua could pry Ava from her many
tutors—not that they weren’t doing a great job teaching her, in
their soft she-might-break sort of way—she and Ava would “play
swords”: Nadua’s way of testing Ava’s fighting abilities, and
making corrections if necessary.

Nadua’s mind turned back to the unconscious
demon, who was being carried away—not so gently—by a few soldiers.
If his people were preparing for another invasion, she must prepare
the Cyrellians for war.

* * *

The prisoner’s tent was large and fairly
empty, but for a raging fire pit, and a three foot thick, ten foot
high stake jetting from the ground. The still unconscious demon’s
back was against it, and his hands were tied behind him, securing
him in place.

Nadua stood close to the fire, gathering
what heat she could, waiting for the demon to awaken. After sending
a messenger back to the palace, Tamir joined her in the tent,
followed by his favorite subordinate, Nakul. The two stood away
from the flames; heat could be uncomfortable to them, just as the
cold was uncomfortable to her.

She imagined, as she had many times in the
past, what it would be like to have skin as cold as theirs. To find
the snow pleasing as the flakes settled on their skin.

To be able to touch another without burning
pain.

Because her skin was so warm and theirs so
cold, if she touched the skin of a Cyrellian, both would burn at
the contact. It often made her sad that she could never give Ava a
simple hug without being careful there was no skin-to-skin contact.
Nadua hadn’t felt a true painless physical touch since she’d left
her home planet more than four hundred years ago.

With her hands stretched out to the dancing
flames, she gazed at the demon. His shirt had been removed, in
order to clean and mend the many arrow wounds. Ancient scars of all
sizes and shapes trailed along his torso, around his back, and down
the length of his arms—blemishes on an otherwise perfectly sculpted
physique.

Without his shirt, the demon looked even
stronger than before. The light of the fire created shadows against
the cords of his muscles, and the scars helped project a sense of
danger. Though the marks were faded now, they must have caused
great pain when they were made. Nadua watched his chest rise and
fall with each slow breath.

Would his skin feel warm and soft?

The thought startled her, just as his green
eyes flashed open and immediately found hers.

The drowsy demon was gone. A predator sat in
his place.

Marik quickly averted his gaze, and assessed
his situation. Pain laced his body. He was slumped on the chilly
floor, in a concoction of sludge and mud created from the melting
snow, and tied to a thick piece of wood jutting from the ground.
Lingering rage coupled with being tied down threatened to push him
to the Edge once more. But the ropes they used to secure his wrists
were brittle and could be easily broken.

It was obvious that these people didn’t
understand a demon’s strength. The Edge receded. Marik decided to
wait till he was fully in control before escaping.

Two men with straight white hair and a hint
of blue in their skin stood to his right. The fur covered creature
stood to his left, leaning over a blazing fire. The difference in
their dress was extreme. The men wore hardly anything to protect
themselves from the harsh cold. Perhaps they didn’t need to.

The bundle of fur was
openly studying his scars. For some reason, that caused a surge of
embarrassment to run through him. Long ago, his scars brought him
unmitigated shame—not born of battles won or lost, but of
punishment. For most demons, wounds healed without a mark of their
existence, but his
masters
had been harsh, wanting to leave their mark on him
by making him bleed and not allowing him to heal properly. Marik
thought he had left the humiliation of his scars in his past, until
now.

He scowled at the mass of fur. Their eyes
locked. Her iridescent blue eyes grew wide for a moment, before
regaining their composure and turning away. An involuntary growl
escaped him, successfully forcing those blue depths back to him.
Why he wanted that he didn’t know, perhaps a play for dominance.
Pieces of the Edge still mingled in his blood, causing his mind to
be muddled.

“
Quiet down, demon,” a
lithe feminine voice commanded from behind the thick hides. Then,
in another tongue she spoke more kindly to the two males, doubling
his irritation.

Marik had learned a number
of languages, due to his many diverse
masters
and their equally diverse
speech, so deciphering this one should be a breeze. Unfortunately,
Marik hadn’t heard any dialect like it before. It would take some
time to decode. Luckily, demons were quick learners.

The blue-eyed bundle turned back to him,
speaking again in one of the common space languages, though her
idiom was old-fashioned. “Demon, I have some questions, and you
will answer them truthfully. Understand?”

Marik didn’t move at first. He just
challenged the creature with his gaze. She challenged him right
back, rising to her full height. Of course, her bravado wasn’t that
impressive. She assumed he was securely tied down, and therefore
harmless.

How would her bravery fare when he snapped
the rope and took out her two guards, so he could have her at his
mercy?

The thought jarred him as much as it pleased
him. He wondered if that body matched the silky voice it belonged
to.

Marik inwardly shook himself. The Edge,
though dulled from the earlier fight, still demanded release, and
this female’s scent was stroking his desire. He needed to take this
situation more seriously.

Marik slowly nodded, curious what she would
ask him.

“
Are your people here to
war with us?”

He wasn’t expecting that. Shaking his head,
Marik answered, “Not at all.”

“
Then why are you
here?”

Marik wondered if it were wise to reveal
that they came to Undewla in search of Anya’s lost sister, Nadua, a
Faieara princess who, according to a magical book, was supposed to
be hiding somewhere on this planet.

Even in Marik’s head it sounded daft.

According to the book, supposedly written by
the king of the Faieara himself, who could see glimpses of the
future, Nadua’s presence was necessary in winning their war against
the Kayadon—a race of warmongers in control of their home
world.

Coincidentally, the Kayadon had destroyed
Marik’s home planet shortly after they’d captured him and his
sister Misha, selling them both into slavery. Marik cringed at the
memory of Misha’s screams as they had dragged her away. He couldn’t
have more thoroughly failed her than if he’d sold her into slavery
himself.

The bundle of fur cleared her throat,
waiting for his answer. It was possible that these people knew of
Nadua, but would they help him? By the nasty looks he was getting
from the two in the corner, Marik didn’t think so. If he revealed
too much information, it could be used against him and his friends.
But then, if he didn’t reveal anything, these natives might turn to
torture. Of course, Marik would destroy them first, but he’d like
to avoid that route if possible.

Finally, Marik decided to keep it vague. “We
are searching for someone. We have no intention of staying on this
planet long. And we definitely do not seek war.”

The woman eyed him warily before conversing
once more with the two men. The men began to shout and sneer in his
direction, until an abrupt command from her silenced them, making
it obvious who was in charge here.

Incredulous, she asked, “Who is it you seek,
demon?”

Shaking his head, Marik answered, “I’ll not
say more till I know I can trust you. And with me tied up and
bleeding, I’d say you’ll have a time of earning it.”

The bundle of fur nearly
choked on a laugh. “Oh, I must earn
your
trust? How am I to believe
anything you say when you attacked my men?”

“
As I remember it, they
attacked first.”

The woman waved away his comment and turned
back to her fire. “You were trespassing on our territory. The last
time demons came to this planet, they brought with them a reign of
destruction not equaled since.” She glared at him then. “I will not
let that happen again. If your people are planning another attack,
I will discover the truth.”

Marik was stunned. “Demons have been here
before?”

“
Don’t act stupid. Am I to
believe you don’t know the history of your own people?”

A low warning growl erupted from Marik, and
both the white-haired males pulled their swords. The furry creature
stilled them with a look, cutting off their clipped tones.

“
Well?” She continued,
unconcerned by the threat in Marik’s eyes.

“
Five hundred years ago my
planet was destroyed and my people scattered through the universe.
I have no idea how many survived or where they now reside. If a
group of demons attacked your people, I would have no way of
knowing.”

The woman’s brows drew together in a
surprising show of compassion, though he knew it to be
contrived.

* * *

Surely the demon was lying, but his story
was so close to her own. Nadua, too, was separated from her people
and had no way of knowing what was happening back on Evlon.

Quickly, she turned away to hide any show of
emotion. The demon would no doubt see it as a weakness. From what
she knew of demons, they abhorred any emotion that wasn’t anger or
hatred, they were strong and stubborn, and they were incredibly
lusty. Barbaric, one Cyrellian had said. She had to appear
emotionless and prove herself equal, if she were to get any real
information.

Nadua would need to use the worst of his
traits against him. His stubbornness would be a problem and she
couldn’t fathom a way to manipulate him by his strengths. Her eyes
followed the lines of his sculpted arms. No, that would need to be
kept in check. Perhaps his lust could be her ally, but how? There
were no other females in the camp besides her. Nadua shivered at
the implication.

Could she lower herself in such a way?

She shook the thought away and nearly
laughed—while other parts of her seized on the idea. She firmly
ignored those parts.