Chapter 1
One
I dragged the paddle through the bubbling stew, then moved to the next pot, my jaw tight, arms burning. My palms grew slick against the handle—whether from the heat or my nerves, I couldn’t tell anymore.
Venison and smoke choked the air. Steam rolled upward into the bruised gray sky, then twisted east toward the black teeth of the trees beyond camp. Ten pots simmered over massive firepits in a crooked line beside me. Nine iron vats big enough to drown in, and one slightly smaller for carrying.
And every single one was my responsibility—ample stew to feed an army.
I searched my pockets for what seemed like the hundredth time. The leaves were still there.
Ten pots. Ten ways this might go wrong.
And if it did… I swallowed hard. Death would be the merciful outcome.
Brushing off my threadbare skirt, I took a moment to check on Mira. She was propped up next to a boulder, her eyelids fluttering with fatigue and her skin a bit too peaked.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Ugh, I could be better.” She coughed and then moaned.
“Are you sure you don’t need help with the stew?
” She shot me a concerned glance. Not because of me—because every other cook was sick, and a delay in meal preparation meant repercussions for us all.
I didn’t blame her. I’d be equally worried if our situations were reversed.
“Nah, I've got it.” My voice gave a slight waver, and I offered a smile that conveyed more assurance than I possessed. “You and the others rest.”
She wiped at her sweaty brow. “I can’t believe we all became ill at the same time. It had to be something we ate. I just… don’t know what. You eat the same food we do, and you’re fine.”
“I know. It’s a mystery.” That wasn’t exactly true. Normally I ate the same food as them, but I’d slipped an extra substance into their food last night. My stomach twisted with guilt. I’d made sure they couldn’t help me.
But Mira would recover. Each of them would.
I couldn’t say the same for the army I was about to feed.
I reached up and touched the light bruise on her lip and saw her flinch, as my chest swirled with darkness. “Who was it this time?”
“Does it matter? Another demon having his fun.” A vacant quality in her gaze caused me to shudder. “You’re lucky you have your condition,” she muttered. “Nobody dares to lay a hand on you.”
I looked away. Every time I met Mira's eyes, I heard John's anguished voice and remembered the way he spoke of his wife before he died. Now we were here together, bound by the same nightmare. We had no choice but to watch as the demons sold off our family and friends. When they were done, they kept us for themselves—as slaves. Cooks when they were hungry. Objects of pleasure when they weren’t.
And yet, they didn’t dare touch me. Eating a little eran root each day produced a rash on my midsection and private areas, serving as a sufficient deterrent for demons worried about catching something.
It felt itchy, and I disliked it, but I could completely reverse the effect.
Word had spread of my ‘contamination.’ It had ensured that the members of the army hadn’t touched me.
The other human slaves weren’t as lucky.
I’d tried to share it with Mira when we first got taken captive, but she’d reacted poorly to the root, getting so sick she almost died.
Uncertain if it was caused by an allergic reaction, I didn’t possess the fortitude to experiment with medicating anyone else thereafter.
“This won’t last much longer,” I promised her.
“How do you know?” she asked weakly. “Do you have some grand plan to escape?”
A wariness moved through me. “It’s more a hope than a plan,” I hedged.
I’d poisoned her and the others for a reason.
A few months ago, another human woman had tried to lead the slaves in an escape attempt, but someone had ratted her out.
At night in my dreams, I still heard her screams of agony as they tortured her body into an inevitable death.
The demons had staked her head, skinned raw, to a post outside the kitchen tent for a month, her jaw hanging at a twisted angle.
A wave of cold washed over me. I couldn’t trust any of them. Not even Mira.
“Even if you did, we wouldn’t make it far before they caught us,” she added.
Unless they aren’t alive to chase us, I thought.
She must have read my expression because she frowned. “Denara… don’t do anything reckless.”
I patted her hand and rose. “You just rest. I need to get back to the stew.”
I pulled my long chestnut hair into a ponytail and hurried to the pots.
After slipping my fingers into my pocket again, I fingered the venenum resting there.
I passed the smaller first pot, leaving it untouched, and then slid a green leaf into each following pot down the line, giving a gentle stir before moving on to the next.
Unlike the plentiful eran root, venenum was rare, and it took me months of foraging to find a patch hidden beneath a shaded boulder beside a stream.
Of all the plants, only one had bloomed early, its leaves infused with the right potency of poison to do what I wished.
At least I prayed the potency was enough.
As I stirred each pot, I closed my eyes, recalling the cries of my town when the demons attacked, their enormous bodies ransacking our houses with swords and snarls and claws—the charred smell of burning homes, the sight of men’s blood running rivers.
How Gerand had kicked and cried, helpless.
I’d fought futilely to get to him as Raxus dragged me through the dirt by my hair, smoke clogging my lungs.
And now, my brother was sold off. Gone like everyone else in my life.
Steam curled into my face, and I opened my eyes, anguish burning through me.
Each stir of the stew turned rougher, my fury seeping into the rhythm of my hands.
It felt as if my malice seeped out of me into the pots.
They’d stolen and murdered my people and separated me from the person who mattered more than anyone else in the world while treating us worse than dogs.
Tonight, their reckoning would come.
I returned to the first pot and stirred without adding anything. Timing was everything. I’d do whatever it took to escape and find my brother.
Tricken sauntered over, an Inferna imp about my height with sharp goat-like horns and large, unblinking eyes. He belonged to the numerous hired soldiers in the camp—a military force consisting of a loose alliance pulled from four of the five demon kingdoms.
“Hey slave, the general’s getting hungry. You finished with the food?” Tricken asked in his gargled voice—as if he wasn’t supposed to be overseeing the entire operation from start to finish. He never did. He sniffed and glanced around. “Where are the others?”
“They are down with an illness. We didn’t think you’d want diseased humans near your food, so I started early to make sure it would be ready on time.
” I suppressed a flinch at my own words and at the way his gaze swept over me, as though weighing my proximity to their sustenance.
Smiling, I showed him my palms. “I cleaned my hands and everything before starting.”
He sneered and walked up to me before backhanding me so hard that I fell to the dirt. “Don’t get smart with me, human.”
I set my jaw against the pain radiating through my cheek.
“Is. The food. Ready?” he demanded.
I kept my focus on the ground. My hateful gaze would betray me if he saw my face. “Yes,” I whispered.
Out of the corner of my eye, Tricken lifted the ladle from the first pot and sniffed it. “This better be good. Lord Vaelor has deigned to visit our camp and has vowed to make us richer than our wildest dreams. If this turns out to be rancid slop, you’ll get the beating of your life.”
Something vindictive rose in me. I’d heard stories of Vaelor from the other demons in the encampment.
They called him the Waiting Ruin. Some spoke of him in awe, others with open disgust, but everyone in camp agreed on a single point: he was sinister, depraved, and without remorse. A cast out among his own kind.
And yet from what I’d seen from the mercenaries these past months, they didn’t care. They cared about the weight of his coin purse and little else.
Let him join the list of the dead. Anyone who sought to employ this band of brutes deserved their fate.
Tricken tasted the stew.
That first pot was designated for the general and the other leaders. It always was the one that Tricken tested, which was why I needed to add the poison to that one at the last minute.
“Is it to your liking?” I fought to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. I’d spent hours preparing my mother’s famous venison stew. It was good. I couldn’t help but sneak a peek at his face.
His eyes widened, but he covered up his surprise. “It will do. Bring the pot.” He swiveled toward the miniature imp demon that stood behind him, gesturing at the other vats. “Feed the troops,” he said to his assistant.
“Yes, sir,” the demon said.
A moment of nerves shot through me. This was it.
Once the bowls were doled out, I had a limited amount of time.
If every demon in camp didn’t taste the soup, or if some started showing symptoms before the others and someone figured it out, I’d be just as dead as the demons devouring my food.
Which was why I had chosen venenum—it was slow-acting, but swift once signs appeared.
I reached into my pocket and palmed the last venenum leaf. For you, Gerand . Despite my head and neck still aching, I climbed to my feet. Lifting my fist from my skirts, I gathered my apron in my hands before taking the pot of stew from the heat and followed my overseer into the sea of tents.
It jostled as I released a hand from the handle and rubbed my palm until the leaf peeled away from my skin.
“Watch it.” Tricken glanced back at me and growled. His fingers balled. The stew was probably the only thing keeping him from striking me again.
“Yes, sir.” I nodded, and he turned and stalked ahead.
With another jostle, the leaf slid from my palm and dropped into the pot. The anxiety in my chest, a constant companion, loosened a bit.
“I said watch it,” Tricken snarled.
“I’m sorry, sir.” I gripped the handle and hurried forward. Hopefully, the sloshing of the pot as I walked would help dilute the poison throughout the stew.
We came to a massive tent in the heart of the camp. Its black canvas almost matched the dirt beneath my feet. The large opening, though currently shut, always made me feel as insignificant as an insect when I walked inside.
“You'd better hope they enjoy it.” My overseer stepped in and motioned for me to follow.
The tent afforded ample room, its ground adorned with rugs and strewn pillows for the various demons assembled within.
They sat in a wide semicircle, facing one another, while a large map lay spread out in the middle.
Most of the leaders hailed from Kingdom Aeria, situated in the northern mountains.
If I looked out the tent door, I’d be able to see their snow-capped peaks looming over us.
There was a reason Kingdom Aeria led. They were clever, hardened, ruthless, disciplined, and calculating.
Something frigid always accompanied tales of the winged fiends to the north.
Several rested on their cushions, their wings lightly spread behind them.
Turning my gaze to the right, my stomach coiled with dread and rage simultaneously.
Raxus sat there. He’d moved up in the ranks to sergeant after the raid on my town—one of the few demons in the tent who didn’t come from Aeria.
He sat hunched, his deadly stare observing me. My eyes darted away from his.
“I beg your pardon, but supper is ready.” Tricken’s voice had changed in an instant from threatening to calm and submissive.
“Was it tested?” Raxus demanded.
“Of course, sir. Tested it myself.”
“Dish it up.” Raxus gestured to the demon sitting in the center of the group. “Serve Lord Vaelor first.”
“Yes, sir,” Tricken responded. He took the pot from me and motioned to a stack of bowls resting near the entrance.
I picked one up and willed my sweaty hands not to betray my nerves as I grabbed a ladle resting with the dishes.
I walked over and poured the stew into the bowl before turning to face Lord Vaelor.
Even seated, I sensed his superior height compared to the majority of Aeria’s demons.
He was an abaddon, a descendant of fallen angels, if folklore held true.
Black horns curved from his skull in cruel arcs, and dark burgundy hair spilled past his broad shoulders.
Large bat-like wings extended at his back.
A tailored raven-colored suit traced the hard lines of his muscular frame, an ascot fastened at his throat.
Polished. Refined. Like a blade dressed for court.
He tracked my approach with glowing red eyes, studying me too closely, too carefully. Each step toward him tightened the knot in my chest. Gods, what if he saw straight through me? I kept waiting for him to rise from his seat and expose me in front of everyone.
I tripped on the rug and stumbled.
Lord Vaelor sprang up with a swift movement beyond human speed. He grabbed me with his long-nailed, clawed hands, steadying me. I looked up at him with wide eyes. A low growl emanated from his throat as he glared at me.
“Be careful, human. You almost spilled on the map,” he snarled. He took the bowl from my grasp.
I recoiled, unnerved, yet perceived the immediate change in the mercenaries’ disposition within the tent.
I’d upset the one demon the mercenary army wanted to impress.
Vaelor didn’t look at me again. He reclaimed his seat and spoke to a nearby leader.
“So can I rely on you and your demons to assist in the attack? With my brother Lanzin’s forces to aid us, we will be unstoppable. ”
“The offer you have made is very generous…”
I tuned out their discussion as I stepped back to Tricken, who stared at me with a horrified expression.
“Get out. There will be no more of your stumbling about,” he muttered. “I’ll finish up here and deal with you later.” The threat had returned to Tricken’s voice.
A lightness filled my chest, and I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. Even if I hadn’t done it on purpose, my slip-up had worked to my advantage. This granted me more time to make my escape.
As for Tricken, he’d serve himself a bowl after all the leaders of the camp were served, and then he’d get his.
Before I left the tent, I glanced back at Lord Vaelor. He listened to the discussion, tipping the bowl and sipping the stew.
A spark of vengeful satisfaction curled around my heart.
Human, he’d called me with disdain. I gritted my teeth. That was all I was to these demons. Just a worthless human. Well, I’d show Lord Vaelor and all of them what this little nothing of a human could do.