Demon Slave (Shadow Quest Book 2) (2 page)

Nadua nodded, and scanned the depths of her mind for a vision. Unfortunately, they came whenever they came, no matter how many tantrums she threw.

“
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?