Page 5 of The Demon Crown

And then she sank back into the shadows, like the good thief she was.

Varya stayed there for what felt like hours. They toyed with Greed like cats with a mouse, circling him, stabbing, splashing blood on the walls. And the sound the demon king made... She’d never forget the horrible noise as they sliced and diced to their hearts’ content. He healed too quickly for them to stop their play any time soon, even though she knew he had to be weak from the loss of blood.

She watched the first one go back to the alcohol and her heartbeat kicked up a notch. If only one of them drank, then that would be a problem. One would pass out, the others would realize the alcohol was spiked, and...

Fuck.

She skittered down from her place on the stones and counted to ten. The Horde member near her drank deeply, closing his eyes as he swallowed mouthfuls, and she rolled another one of the jugs toward the others. Gently, but hard enough to bump against one of their ankles.

The man glanced back suspiciously, and she froze, hoping that she was still hidden enough behind the rock.

“Garm, you fool!” another shouted, then laughed and picked up the jug she’d rolled. “You’ll waste it all on yourself!”

If she wasn’t worried about being caught, Varya would have sighed in relief. She pressed the back of her head to the rock and counted again, to twenty this time, just to be sure. Then she bolted for her shadows between the rock crevices and watched her plan unfold. The Horde members all seemed to realize that they hadn’t been drinking. They tucked into the jugs with more gusto than she’d expected, draining them quickly, like it was a race to see who finished first.

And then it really was.

They all started dropping to the ground, one after the other. The Horde leader was the last of them to remain standing, but she’d known he would be. The man had survived more poisoning attempts than any other person alive. But even he eventually slumped against a rock, the jug falling from his hand and thudding hard in the sand.

Good? Good. She thought they were all passed out by now.

Varya took a few light steps into the fire light, waiting for one of them to groan or make a noise. None of them did, though.

“Keys,” she muttered. “Which one of you bastards has keys?”

Because surely they hadn’tweldedthe demon king into that cage. They weren’t going to carry him out of here. They’d all be far too close to his claws.

She didn’t even look at the demon king as she rummaged through the Horde members’ pockets. As long as it wasn’t the big one, she didn’t care who had the keys.

Thankfully, she found them rather quickly in the fourth bandit’s pants. Making a face at the smell of the man, she darted over to the cage and started running her hands over the bars. One of them had to be the opening, but damn it, this was so crudely made. She was impressed they’d even installed a keyhole.

“There,” she muttered before unlocking the door and yanking it open. The damn thing creaked like it wanted her to be caught. She flinched, glancing over her shoulder at the piles of bodies before counting to twenty again. No one moved.

Good enough.

She stepped into the cage with a deep, brave breath, and then turned her gaze back to Greed.

He laid out on the floor like an ancient god, as though he’d been waiting for her. Blood streaked all over his body, long slices decorating his skin where apparently his healing capabilities had failed. His tail was kinked in three places, making it look more like a lightning bolt than a smooth line. There were bruises all over him, but his gold eyes still flashed when he saw her looking.

Did he... Flex? He lifted his arm over his head and she swore his bicep twitched like he was flexing.

How was she supposed to focus when all that golden skin was bared before her? He still wore pants, of course, but they weren’t exactly made to hide anything. She could see every twitch and flex of his muscle.

“The thief in the night,” he said, his voice far too loud. “You’ve finally come for me.”

“Shh,” she muttered, kneeling on her knees at his side to look him over. “I need you to move.”

He did, but not to get up. Instead, he reached out and wrapped a strand of her hair around his finger. “Gold,” he muttered. “You are so golden. Why can I not see your face?”

Varya slapped his hand away. “Get up.”

“What did you steal, my thief?”

“I’ll tell you later.” She pressed her lips into a thin line, then slapped his hand away again when he tried to touch her mask. “Get up.”

“What if I wish to bask in your beauty?”

“Then I will tell you to shut up and then get up. They’re not going to stay like that forever.” Varya pointed at the Horde, as if that would explain why she was rushing. And it should.

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