CHAPTER 831: ACCOSTED

I woke up in the same tent as before, although now I recognized it as Luke’s. The air was brisk, the canvas ceiling gray with soft light. Was it morning? Or evening?

Yawning, I sat up and stretched, tail curling beneath the sheets. They were coarse and rough, but warm. And they smelled of Luke. I blushed at the thought, hugging them to my chest.

There was no one else there, but I spied Luke’s journal back on the desk. My blush darkened as I realized he must have found it on the hillside sometime after I’d nodded off. He wouldn’t be too mad, right? After all, it wasn’t if I knew it had been his...at the time.

I was wearing the same dress as before, but I only now really noticed it. The dress was a far cry from the silks and satin I’d grown accustomed to, barely nicer than the slave dresses I’d worn at the Divine Throne. The fabric was heavy wool, scratchy but warm. It was a few sizes too big, making me feel like a child. Its sleeves covered my hands, the skirt nearly catching under my feet. The neckline wasn’t particularly low, but broader than my slender frame could support. It hung askew off one shoulder.

The scent it carried was old, but undoubtedly Evla’s. She must have dressed me in it after removing the shredded rags that had become of my old dress.

After looking around to ensure I was alone, I quickly disrobed and withdrew a fresh white off-shoulder dress from my spatial ring. After washing with a spell, I tied it around my waist with a red sash, sighing at the familiar comfort of soft satin. I cleaned the old with a spell, folding it carefully and setting it on the edge of Luke’s cot.

Feeling much more comfortable, I withdrew my ivory comb and began to work on my hair, wincing with every tug. It was snarled and tangled from my misadventures over the past few days, taking me nearly an hour to smooth it to the point I could draw the comb from the roots to the tips without catching. I summoned a floating mirror, admiring the shining waves before stowing my comb.

Dressed and ready, feeling better than I had in days, I moved to leave the tent. As I pushed on the flat, I hesitated, glancing back at the desk. Luke’s journal sat slightly askew, the spine facing toward me. I’d only read a few entries, but had flipped through it enough to know he hadn’t written in it recently. Surely, he wouldn’t miss it.

Blushing, I stole across the tent and slipped it into my spatial ring. It was wrong, but I couldn’t help myself. He wouldn’t mind, right?

Outside, the sky was dim, as I’d guessed, not from the hour, but by a mass of smooth, gray clouds. They smothered the sky like a sheet, occasionally crackling with white light. Thunder rolled in the distance, and the air was heavy with the scent of rain. I glanced at my feet, grateful I’d settled on travel boots, and not the delicate shoes that bared my feet and had ribbons wrapping up my ankles.

Luke’s tent seemed to be on the line between the demon hordes and the demonkin camp. The closest demons were some hundred feet away, while the demonkin had tents just twenty away. I could make out their shapes moving about in the hush of the impending storm, eating, training, or sitting around small fires. Many of the demons were hidden from view by the tent, but I could feel their presence like oily stains.

The air was filled with the groan of canvas in the wind, the clash of steel, and the unsettling sounds of demons. I gave the tent an appreciative glance. I’d taken the peace and quiet for granted, but it must have been warded.

Emerging in the middle of the camp gave me pause, but I shook the feelings of uncertainty off. Before we’d parted ways, I was relatively well known among the demonkin, even if they misunderstood my relationship with Luke. They were a rough, violent group, with few women and even fewer morals, but they should still respect me. Even so, it might be better to keep to myself and avoid drawing any attention. At least until I found Luke.

Once I got my bearings, I reached out, moving more from instinct than memory. There was a tug within me, and the warmth of my mana reacted. Stars appeared inside my grasping hand, extending upward in a line some five feet long. As with the night sky the evening before, I felt a wave of wonder as they condensed together into a staff. The glassy crystal fell between my fingers, warm and polished, comfortable even though I felt like I was touching it for the first time. As I stroked the haft, a jolt ran through me, memories crashing down all at once.

"Fate!"

I covered my mouth as my voice rang out, but it was too late. A large, burly bearkin man looked up from where he was eating beside a fire. We made eye contact, and his eyes widened. I quickly looked away, edging back towards Luke’s tent, but he nudged a demonkin near him, gesturing to me with a wooden spoon.

The demonkin was a rat-like man with a long, naked dagger thrust through his belt. The two rose, leering at me, and made their way over. A tremor ran through my body, and I tightened my grip on my staff.

"Well, what-a-we have here?" the demonkin asked in a reedy voice.

"Please, I’m just–"

"What? Sneaking out of the Lord’s tent? Ashamed of something?" the bearkin asked.

My tail twitched, drawing crude chuckles from the two. They spread out slightly, boxing me in against the tent. The bearkin sniffed the air, and his tongue darted out over his overly large lips.

"You don’t smell like man yet. It must be so lonely, waiting for the Lord to come back and have his way with you. Perhaps you’d like some company?"

"N-no, I’m not–"

The demonkin’s hand darted forward, closing around my wrist. He was far weaker than Luke, but he grabbed me before I even registered he had moved.

"What’s this, gettin’ cute on us?" he growled. His hand tightened, his nails, sharp like claws, dug into my wrist. "We wasn’t askin."

I cried out as he gave me a jerk, dropping my staff. The bearkin snatched it out of the air, looking it over with wide eyes. Already, the commotion was attracting attention, and a few bored-looking soldiers were glancing our way. My instinct was to knock them back with a spell, but that might draw the attention of the demons themselves.

"Hey, Evern, I don’t think she’s a whore. At least, not more than other women. Thief, maybe."

The demonkin’s eyes narrowed. "You stealing from the Lord?"

I shivered with fear, unable to take my eyes off his filthy face and sharpened teeth. Did he...file them? Or were some demonkin more...demon?

"I-it’s mine, please, let me go," I pleaded, struggling against his grip.

"I don’t think so," The bearkin got in my face, his flat nose inches from mine. His breath reeked of alcohol. "Not often we get a woman that doesn’t stink like man. Not a chance in hell we don’t enjoy you proper."

He pressed a jagged claw-tipped finger in the depression between my clavicles, dragging it down my chest until it caught on the ring hanging on my necklace. He lifted it, his sneer deepening.

"Whores these days. Arrogant as hell," he said. "Jus’ how much you take from the lord?"

The demonkin jerked me again, his other hand curling into my dress, scrunching the delicate fabric between his fingers.

"Don’t be needin’ this, where you’re goin’," he snarled.

There was a sharp rip as he tore at my dress, attempting to rip it off my body. The weak enchantments I had woven into the material held, causing his face to scrunch in irritation. The bearkin gurgled in laughter at the demonkin, who flushed and pulled again, very nearly succeeding.

I tried to scream, my throat closed up, panic making my heart skip beats. Memories I’d long forgotten, memories of another world, clouded my mind. In a panic, I forgot all about the demons. Magic. I had to use magic. I couldn’t let them...them...it was too terrible to think about.

As I scrambled for my mana, the bearkin stopped his mocking laugh and abruptly slapped the demonkin’s hand from my chest. Any relief I felt died as he grabbed me around the waist, his hand almost big enough to go all the way around.

"Enough foolin’ around, filthblood. You can play your games in front of the lads once I’m satisfied."

He squeezed, lifting me into the air, his claws digging into my waist. My mana scattered as my bones creaked, a scream tearing from my throat. The sound pierced the camp, a single feminine cry amid thousands of men. The bearkin shook me violently, causing me to bite my tongue. I whimpered, the metallic sting of blood filling my mouth.

"Heh, that’s a pretty sound. I hope you got more where it comes from, cause I’ll have you singin,’" the bearkin said. "Evern, get that staff. I bet we sell it before the lords find out it’s missin’."

I hung limp, swaying as the bearkin started to walk deeper into the camp. But before he made it five steps, he stopped abruptly. Disoriented and nauseous, I tilted my head, making out a pair of dark leather boots, and the skirt of a black cloak lined with silver. It was strange; they seemed to be hovering a few inches above the ground.

"What exactly is going on here?"

A cold, familiar voice asked. Perhaps I was delirious, but that sounded like Luke.