Chapter Forty-Five
Vhaena
THE HUNT IS OVER
By the time the sun had dipped below the horizon, my body felt like stone. Heavy and immobile.
I had no idea how Daemon was able to stay on his feet. He was the one who had physically fought both the demons from the night before and his brother. My exhaustion was mental and emotional, deep in my core.
But he carried me through the night, over hills, through the trees, and even across the river. His arms never wavered. He never trembled from the exertion. Never stopped even as the hours dragged on and on in the darkness.
I didn’t sleep; my mind wouldn’t let me as memories of the past week replayed over and over as I stared up at the masked demon who had protected me.
Only once did he pause, releasing a heavy breath and with it, all the tension in his body.
He pulled his mask down, and I felt every muscle loosen as his eyes fluttered shut.
“What is it?” I asked, lifting my head from his shoulder to gaze at him.
He looked at me, and for the first time, peace flickered in his eyes.
“It’s midnight.” The side of his mouth lifted. “The Hunt is over.”
The air felt different—lighter. And somehow quieter, as if the land had released a tense breath. I raised my head farther and kissed my demon.
“Thank you,” I whispered against his lips. “Thank you for keeping me alive. Thank you for protecting me. Thank you for keeping your vow.”
“Always.”
He replaced his mask and continued on.
Hours and hours went by, and he still carried me. I tried to walk on my own multiple times, but each time I shifted my weight or tried to push off of him, his grip around me tightened. And he never said anything about it. He just kept his eyes forward and continued moving.
I guessed he had a lot on his mind, too.
Just as we crested over a ridge, the sun peeked over the sea’s horizon.
The eighth dawn.
Daemon set me down on my feet, holding me steady with his arm around my waist until I found my footing. We gazed down at the shoreline where a ship waited.
Several demons stood in the sand and lined the wooden dock leading out into the water.
I searched the bodies, looking for any other women, but all I saw were masked men.
Daemon and I made our way down, his arm still firmly around me and holding me to his side.
The salty breeze hit me like a wall when we emerged from the trees.
Movement down the treeline caught my eye. I turned my head, halting in place and kicking up sand with the abrupt stop.
Like a warrior having survived the trials of war, a woman limped out into the open.
Amalia.
My jaw dropped. She had a large stick she was using as a cane to support one of her legs which was wrapped in torn, bloodstained fabric.
One of her boots was missing. She was covered in scrapes and cuts with matted hair and a dirt-streaked face.
She looked starved and lethargic. But she had fucking done it.
She’d survived.
For seven days, she survived on an island crawling with demons whose sole purpose was to hunt her down and take her life. She didn’t have someone watching over her. She didn’t have anyone to keep her safe. She didn’t have a demon. She did it all on her own. And she had even tried to save me, too.
Her eyes, sunken within dark circles like she hadn’t slept in days, lifted. They met mine, and they softened slightly. She glanced from me to the demon then back. I smiled at her, and she gave me a nod.
Nothing else.
No smile. No embrace. No words.
She continued on, walking across the sandy beach and onto the dock.
None of the demons spoke to her. There was no celebration or cheering for her survival or even a “congratulations.” They stood in complete silence as she passed and boarded the ship.
Daemon remained beside me with his mask in place.
“Are you coming on the ship, too?” I asked quietly.
We hadn’t actually talked about the logistics of what would happen. In fact, we never talked about what was happening after the Hunt at all.
“No. And neither are you. There’s a demon who will transport us.” He scanned the demons, presumably searching for said demon.
My stomach twisted, forming a pit of guilt.
“Actually,” I raised my chin and took a step toward the ship, “I am.”
Amalia wasn’t getting “transported” back, and neither was I.
She might not want me there. She might want to be alone.
But she shouldn’t have to be. At the very least, I could see if there was anything I could do to help her leg and find her some food.
She had tried to save me. She came to help me when she thought I was in danger.
That was more than any other woman had ever done for me, here and in my past.
I didn’t bother to hide my trepidation. I didn’t know what life was going to look like off this damned island. I didn’t know if I would ever feel safe again.
A moment later, Daemon’s fingers brushed mine, intertwining with my hand. I turned to him, the rising sun casting a soft glow on his mask.
He nodded toward the ship. “Then let’s go.”
What I did know was that I wasn’t alone.