Page 2 of The Demon Court

She forced herself to shake off the horrible feeling of the spell. Selene squared her shoulders and laced her fingers at her waist. “I accept this purpose, High Sorceress. I will stop at nothing until our will is the command of this kingdom.”

“Of course you won’t.” Her mother broke through the circle of runes to run her fingers along Selene’s jaw. “You are my best creation, pet. Now, go to your demon and we will all watch him fall.”

Now? Selene had hoped...

She didn’t let the thought take flight from her mind. One of her sisters had already started drawing the runes of a portal. There was no time to waste. She knew what she had to do, and she knew how to do it.

But she hesitated. This was her home. She’d grown up here with only memories to keep her safe. The softness of the blanket Ursula had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Hugs from Sibyl after a particularly trying day. Even the stories that Minerva would tell her about a time when sorceresses had ruled these lands, long before the demons had come and destroyed all of it. These were the memories that would make her wish to return.

Selene couldn’t return until she’d made a demon king bend to her whims, but she hadn’t ever believed she’d be forced to be with him.

The sparking sound of a portal shooting to life made her flinch. She wasn’t even dressed like herself. Selene was more likely to hide underneath long layers of clothing and thick woolen skirts. The more layers, the better. It was too cold here for anything less.

The travel clothes of a sorceress were far from what she would consider comfortable. Leather leggings encased her legs, squeezing too tightly. The corseted top stole her breath and pressed her breasts up like a serving platter. Not to mention the long gloves that covered her hands, all of it marked with protection runes. Anyone would take one look at her and know where she was from.

“You’ll be back in a few days,” Ursula said. Her nearly white hair swayed at her hips as she held out a small pack for Selene to hold. The smile on her dark face gleamed. “You’ll lead him here after he sees your pretty face. I have no doubt at all.”

“And then we’ll deal with him,” Bathilda added darkly. Her close cropped dark hair had only just begun to curl after she’d shaved it. She held out Selene’s cloak. “Make haste, sister. We all want this over with quickly.”

Selene had to bite her tongue. Did any of them think they wanted this over with faster than her? She was the sacrifice for the demon. She was the one who had to convince him she was worthwhile for his attention, and get him back to the Tower. They only had to sit here! None of them had to wonder how much a demon would compromise who they were.

But she couldn’t say any of that. Her job wasn’t to complain or even to point out how unfair this situation was. She needed to drag all that into the dark recesses of her mind.

Selene always thought her power felt like sinking underneath the surface of an icy lake. At first, it hurt to shove those emotions into a place no one else would ever find them. But then it felt... nice. Cold, perhaps. But at least she couldn’t feel.

“Good,” her mother said, coming up behind her. “You’re ready.”

Because, of course, the High Sorceress would feel Selene shove those emotions down. It was hard enough to swallow that her sisters would throw her to the wolves. But her mother? Selene’s flair of anger should have burned through her. Instead, it was a mere spark that flew away and then dimmed into nothing.

“I’ll return with the demon, Mother.”

“I know you will.”

And with that, Minerva planted a hand on Selene’s chest and shoved her through the portal.

She hated portal travel. The pull of magic on her body that unmade and then remade her as it spat her out somewhere other than the Tower. Selene had traveled before, but never alone. Never to find a demon.

She stumbled out of the clear magic that looked somehow like water and landed on her hands and knees in the dirt. At least her sisters didn’t see her stagger through. They’d have made fun of her mercilessly for it.

Shoving back the wild tangle of her dark hair, she leaned back on her heels and planted her hands on her thighs. Where had her bag gone? She needed that. There were a few outfits in there that were necessary to catch the attention of a demon.

Her eyes followed the dirt path she’d landed in the middle of. Mud ruts were dug so deep into the earth, she could only assume this was a trade route. The emerald green grass on either side of her gently rolled to the forest's edge.

Was she near Greenbank? That wasn’t where she’d thought she’d end up.

Someone cleared their throat. She glanced down the path again, her pack suddenly lost to her thoughts, and found herself looking at a young man. He stood in the center of the road with a wagon behind him. An old horse was hooked at the front, happily munching on grass even though its sway back seemed to make the lean of its neck difficult. His pants were covered in mud, his white tunic yellowed with age. But he had a pleasing face and bright green eyes that glowed with amusement in the dirt smeared expression he wore.

He held her pack out to her and pushed at the dirty blonde mop of hair on top of his head. “This yours?”

“It is.” She made no move to get up, though she did eye the smears of mud on her bag. “Why do you have it?”

“Well, it landed nearly on top of me. I stopped the wagon, all confused when a leather bag fell out of the sky, and then you dropped next to it.”

“Neither of us fell out of the sky,” she corrected.

“Where’d you come from then?”

She wasn’t about to tell him. If he was so uneducated that he couldn’t tell a sorceress when he saw one, then she wasn’t about to inform him of it. Nevermind that she was a foundling, no one would understand what that was outside of the Tower. Besides, she didn’t have time to answer questions.

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