Page 13 of To Hunt a Demon King

“What areyoudoing out here?” I asked, lifting a hand to cover the place where the stone rested. I had no idea what a shadow stone was, but this man didn’t need to know that. “Why would a mortal man have strayed so far into the woods?”

The huntsman raised a brow again, his mouth lifting into a grin that showed off his very white teeth. “Hunting,” he said, gesturing to his dagger. “Obviously.”

“Maybe I’m hunting for something too,” I said, backing up another step and immediately realizing my mistake. He had backed me against a tree, closing in on me enough that if I tried to run, he would almost certainly catch me.

“Interesting,” the huntsman said again.

“Is that your favorite word?” I snapped, rising fear making me feel defensive.

He frowned again, then took a step back and lowered his hands. “My apologies,” he said, a bit more gently than before. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“I’m not frightened,” I lied, trying to stand a little taller. The wolf, Akela, let out a pathetic little whine at the man’s side, and the strix, which was clearly only pretending to nap, made a sound that I would have called a guffaw had it come from a human.

“It will be nightfall sooner than later,” the huntsman said, gesturing toward the sky with his chin. The move caused his hood to fall back, revealing a striking face framed by dark, blue-black hair that was cropped close to the skull on one side and longer on the other. It fell across his temple in soft waves. “Daylight never lasts long here. Unless you have more than normal witch magic at your disposal,” the man continued, “there is no way you will make it out of these woods in one piece. At least, not without a guide.”

“And I suppose you are offering to guide me?” I asked, still feeling defensive, but also realizing I had literally no idea where I was going or what I was doing. The man’s frown lifted into a smirk.

“For a price, Red.”

Chapter 6

“That’s not my name,” I said irritably, clutching my basket close to me as I held my ground against the trunk of the tree. “And what kind of price?”

“Let’s start with your name, and go from there,” he said, voice rumbling as he closed the distance between us and held out his hand. I hesitated, staring at it.

“Your basket,” he said, looking at me in amusement. “I’m offering to carry it.”

“Oh,” I said, “No, thank you. I can manage.”

“Fine then,” he said, dropping his hand again. He was still smirking slightly. “How about that name?”

“You seem to have decided that it’s Red,” I said, uncertain about the wisdom of giving my true name to a complete stranger. There was power in a name, and I currently preferred to keep that power to myself.

“It is an all-encompassing color choice on your part,” the man said, gesturing to all of me. He seemed unbothered that I was withholding the one thing he had asked for. It irritated me. “Red it is then.”

He gestured to the side of the tree, as if directing me to move. When I stayed put, the huntsman started walking ahead of me, whistling to the wolf, who nudged my leg as he passed me, as if beckoning me to follow.

“What about your bird?” I asked, letting the wolf nudge me forward with the man. I wasn’t sure why I trusted the beast more than the mortal who was offering me help. Maybe because the wolf hadn’t demanded any payment.

“Artemis will be fine,” the man said unconcernedly, cutting through the brush ahead of me at a pace that was going to be murder for my blistered feet. “She knows the way home.”

“And where is home for you?” I asked, feeling like I had to jog to keep up with him. He was tall, his legs long, and he seemed disinclined to slow down for me.

“Around,” he replied, unhelpfully. “Tell me where you are going.”

“The Darklands,” I said, deciding it was probably best not to tell this man the whole truth about my search for the Demon King. He stopped, turning slowly, his brows raised again in surprise.

“Really?” he asked. “Why?”

“It’s a long story,” I replied, hesitating over how much to say.

“It’s a long walk,” he replied with a grin. He looked at me expectantly, waiting for more of an answer.

I sighed. “My mother sent me.”

“And who is your mother?” he asked, taking a step toward me.

“Does it matter?” I asked, getting defensive again. “She’s a witch. You probably don’t know her.”

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