Page 15 of The Demon of the Wood

“It’s not safe,” his father said, giving him a stern look. “Don’t get any ideas. We're here for a specific reason.”

Kaemon nodded, understanding only a little. The politics of the world were not something he knew much about. Only that they had been under the rule of the cruel lord, and Kaemon’s father had deposed him, taking over as the Lord of the House of Shadows. That had been years ago, when Kaemon was still too young to be affected by the horrifying rule of the cruel lord. Now they visited Nemus to make peace with the human king. The cruel lord had occupied much of Nemus for years, for reasons unknown to Kaemon. Kaemon’s father had pulled back but wanted to do what he could to ensure the humans had what they needed before they left.

“They will hate us,” Dryston, Kaemon’s older brother, had said before they left. “We should not go back to Nemus.”

But their father said they had a duty, something that silenced Dryston and made him only nod his head. The humans had no magic and were smaller in size and power than the demons. It was nothing to worry about. When they arrived, though, no one had hated them. It had been a warm welcome, the only oddness in how they stared curiously at them as they walked the halls. The king’s advisor, in particular, had taken a shine to them all. Kaemon’s parents and Dryston, the oldest, were often in meetings during the day. But Enid and Kaemon walked about the castle grounds with their guards, getting a tour by the advisor, Cillian.

He was extremely interested in the demon folk and it excited Enid and Kaemon to talk about their homeland, a sense of pride filling them when he oohed and aahed about all they told him.

“Do your people keep detailed historical records?” he asked one day as they strolled the gardens, their guards flanking further out to look for threats.

“Oh, very good ones,” Enid chirped. “Our governess is taking us through the great histories of the Realm of Shadows now.”

“That is wonderful indeed. Both of you are so smart. I have heard a great deal about a book the cruel lord stole. Do either of you know anything about it? It is one full of fables. Ancient and worth a great deal of money.”

Enid looked at Kaemon, and he shook his head. “None that I know of. I suppose it would be in the royal library, though, if it existed.”

“Tell me more of this library,” Cillian urged, and so Kaemon did.

And he was a fool for it. For each simple conversation led to more trust. And more trust led to betrayal. His dream shifted, tilting his vision until he was lying on the forest floor. Hands bound, the wounds on his side gushing. Enid lay across from him, an arrow lodged in her stomach, blood dripping from her mouth. He cried out, but the Hunters were on him, binding him up. Dryston stood over Enid, his eyes locked on Kaemon in horror.

“Save her!” he mouthed, his throat too dry from the poison to say more.

It shifted again, and he was in the cave. The men carved his arms, telling him to give them more information on the entry into the elusive House of Shadows. They wanted vengeance, retribution for all the years the cruel lord occupied them. They wanted to kill every demon alive. And Kaemon had been foolish enough once to trust a human and tell secrets, so they hoped he would again. But each cut and slice seared his mind with agonizing pain, and he focused on that. Only on that. Because the pain of the body could not compare to the pain of his guilt.

Kaemon startled awake, sweat pooling on the small of his back. The cabin was still dark, but with the snow coming down, there was no way of knowing what time it was. He tried to still his breath, but it came out with difficulty. When he finally managed it, he listened, noting that Melina’s breath and heart rate were not at rest. He sat up and heard her shuffle further under the covers.

Demon or not, you’re still a male.

Melina had been frightened of him less because he was a monster, and more because he was a male. Anger roiled in him at the thought. She had been shaking, her face pale from either fear, or starvation, or both, he wasn’t certain. Had her uncle been trying to kill her? His fingers curled tight around the covers over him, trying to quell his rage, but it only built. He wanted to harm the people that harmed her. Maybe he saw too much of his own experiences in hers. The only difference being that she did not deserve the horrible things done to her.

He roused, lighting a lantern that filled the room in a soft glow. Melina’s head popped out of the covers. Only her eyes were visible. He suppressed a laugh at the image. She was frightened. He shouldn’t find it funny. But she looked adorable.

“Good morning,” he said. “I think. I can’t tell the time.”

“It’s morning. The sun is peeking through the clouds a bit,” she said, sitting up, and the covers fell to her waist. Her long brown hair tumbled about her in waves. It was dull and dry, but it framed her face beautifully, and he stared. Her cheeks flushed from the scrutiny, and he turned away with haste.

He set about making the fire. It took a moment, but he’d made enough of them that soon it roared to life, the heat filling the space. He stood, pulling on his coat and boots. “I’m going to shovel pathways to the shed, outhouse, and river. Call me if you need anything.”

She nodded, watching him like a rabbit caught in a trap. He struggled against the door, finally getting it to open enough that he could slip out. The snow was up to his waist, filling up around the cabin. He uncovered the shovel next to the door by using his hands and started on the porch first. It was bitterly cold, but demons fared well in extreme climates. It was long and hard work, and the day wore on, the cloud cover still hovering thick overhead, though the snow had stopped.

He finally finished digging, then made his way back into the cabin. Melina sat on the bearskin rug, the heavy trousers fanning about her like a skirt, her hair brushed and pulled back half up. She was mending a pair of his old trousers, ones he had stored in the trunk because the rip was too large to wear and be decent. He hated throwing them out, but he didn’t know how to fix them, and he wasn’t about to ask Aife. He’d just bought another pair instead.

She glanced up. Her eyes shone clearer than the day before, and he was certain it was from eating properly, even if she still couldn't eat enough. They would work on that.

“I found these and thought I would mend them,” she blurted. “I hope that’s fine.”

She worried her lower lip, waiting for his response. He nodded. “Of course. Thank you.”

Her cheeks flushed at his praise, her eyes wide and face slack in surprise, and his heart ached.

“Have you eaten?” he asked.

She nodded. “Yes, I ate some smoked meat earlier.”

He walked over, taking some down for himself, and some for her, then some bread from the basket on the counter. Sitting on the opposite end of the rug, he noticed how she tensed from his proximity. He held out some of the meat to her.

She shook her head. “Oh, I really don’t need very much.”

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