Page 59 of Of Nine So Bold

The Huntsman roared in rage, shoving at the demon’s leg.

“If that guy could hurt Ruhl and Cas here,” Clay said with a nod to the vampire, “I’m guessing our demon friend won’t hold him forever either.”

The demon sneered. “He will not escape me.”

Snarling, the Huntsman shoved him so hard, his weight rocked a bit. Incredulity widened the demon’s eyes.

“Weapons,” Ozias suggested shortly. “The ore in our blades. We take his head.”

Unease rose at the thought, but Byron only made a considering noise. “It once severed the power she used to attackthe princess, yes. But if it doesn’t work, it could be worse than this—for him and for us.”

I could hear the implication, and nausea swirled in my stomach at the possibility his body and head would continue this grotesque “life” even if they were separated.

“That’sdefinitelyour last resort,” Dex agreed, sounding sickened too.

“Allow me to try a few of the Order’s unbinding spells first,” Byron said. “And if they go wrong, then…” He gestured permissively, leaving the rest unsaid.

“But it could hurt you too,” I protested.

He glanced back at me. “This man made meeting you possible. Without his actions…” He shook his head resolutely. “If this is the only thanks we can give him, then let it be done quickly.” A grim look crossed his face as he turned back to the Huntsman. “I would not leave him bound to an oath that never should have been used against him like this.”

His words caught me, making my heart twist with regret. Bound to an oath, he said.

He’d know. No, the Huntsman’s situation wasn’t the same as Byron’s. I knew that.

But I could see the similarities all the same.

Dex took my arm, pulling me back with him to give Byron and the Huntsman space. The demon didn’t move, harrumphing as if indignant at the very thought. But even his face became more solemn as he looked down at the burned man.

“If this does not work, magic one,” the demon promised Byron, “I will burn him until not even ash remains.”

I shivered, not wanting to imagine the pain the Huntsman would suffer beforethatend.

But Byron just nodded. With a last look at us all, he extended his hands toward the Huntsman.

15

CASIMIR

Apprehension gripped me as the scholar reached out toward the Huntsman. The man had become something beyond cursed. Something touched by magic so foul, it could affect even creatures of smoke and shadow like Ruhl and myself.

Yet, if memory of my history books served, in Aneiran society his regiment’s original duty had been ceremonial at best. Their job was merely to protect the queen’s “innocence” by enabling her to participate in royal hunts, all without her ever needing to do such a supposedly masculine thing as hunting. Barely more than muscular surrogates, Huntsmen were never taken to war or valued for more than their skill in tracking game.

From the look of it, under the current queen that had changed. The Huntsmen were now tasked with doing her dirty work—including executing a princess accused of the queen’s own crimes.

Except this one had disobeyed. He’d spared Gwyneira.

And for that mercy, he’d paid dearly.

Snarling, the cursed Huntsman rocked again, still pinned by the demon’s foot yet trying to break free. That he was even still capable of moving at all was horrifying, given the extent of his injuries.

The witch who had destroyed my nation was a monster, yes, but even she hadn’t cursed a fatally wounded man to never die.

At least… not like this.

Pushing aside the irony of my own situation—seemingly immortal, never dying because of a vampire witch’s bite—I frowned. The gods had brought mercy to me, and that mercy’s name was Gwyneira.

In our own way, perhaps we could be a mercy for this man too.

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