Page 38 of To Hunt a Demon King

“No,” Hunt said, for the hundredth time. “I’m fulfilling this deal as fast as possible, and that does not include attending parties.”

“But the people here love you,” I protested, gesturing around me at the smiling villagers. I was still working through the shock of finding a perfectly normal, and by all appearances thriving, mortal village in the Darklands. This was secondary to the shock of finding out that Hunt was someone of importance, and maybe actually fabulously wealthy.

We’d had no need for gold in the Bloodwood, but today he spent it liberally, pulling a pouch I hadn’t seen before from his shirt and making polite small talk with the villagers as he shopped. He knew each one by name, and he seemed to know all about them. He asked after their children and businesses, and deflected interested looks at me by explaining that he was escorting me to the palace. His tone brooked no further questions, and the people satisfied themselves with inspecting me and waving at me from a distance.

At first, I was worried it might be the trousers, but I saw other women wearing them too, and the self-consciousness of having the shape of my legs completely visible paled in comparison with the freedom of movement. The only downside was the lack of pockets.

“Are you their Lord?” I asked, biting down on an apple Hunt had tossed me when I complained of being hungry. I hadn’t eaten since the stew the night before, and Hunt seemed to be able to survive on air alone when he was focused. “Their protector or something?” I added around a mouthful of apple.

“You have charming manners,” Hunt said flatly, grimacing at me as I ate. “And it’s something like that.”

“Humph,” I said over a mouthful of apple. I remembered that last time I’d had one, it withered in my hands. The shadowy thing inside me lurched happily, and I gagged, spitting out the apple I had been chewing on.

“Smaller bites, Red,” Hunt said, his back to me as he inspected a collection of cloaks.

I looked down at the apple, frowning. I hadn’t meant to pull on the demon magic, but something had clearly awoken it. The apple was black and withered in my hand.

“Ugh” I said, looking at the withered thing as I held it as far away from my nose as possible.

Hunt turned, brows raising at the sight. “You can eat a fresh apple, Red,” he said, bemusedly. “I’m notthatangry at you.”

“It’s the magic,” I said, irritation rising at his obtuseness. “It was fine a moment ago. I withered it.”

“Interesting,” said Hunt, returning to his favorite catchphrase. He held out his hand, and I dropped the apple into it for him to inspect. “Can you do it again?” he asked, pulling out a fresh apple.

“I don’t want to do it again,” I protested, pushing the apple back at him. “Whatever this is needs to stay asleep.”

“Does it feel like it’s alive in you?” he asked warily, narrowing his eyes at me.

“Sort of,” I said, not wanting to tell him about the bright and shadowy creatures I could feel parading around my stomach. He smirked. “Don’t you dare say it’s interesting again.”

Hunt laughed. “I think you’ll have to learn to control it,” Hunt said thoughtfully, heading down the row of shops and perusing their wares slowly. “Rather like a demon would.”

“I don’t want to control it,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the idea. “I want to get rid of it”

“Why?” Hunt asked, pausing to examine a rack of cloaks. “Seems like a useful ability, both healing and killing with a thought.”

“I told you, it’s not natural,” I argued, putting my hands on my hips. “What if I accidentally wither Akela? Or You?”

“Let’s find out,” Hunt asked, holding out his hand to me. “If I die, then we’ll know you definitely shouldn’t touch him.”

“Be serious,” I snapped, feeling frustrated by my lack of understanding.

“I am, Red,” Hunt said, placing a hand on my cheek. I jerked back at the contact, staring at Hunt in horror, but he kept his hand in place, warm and firm against my skin. He stroked his thumb once over my cheekbone, making my stomach coil confusingly.

“See,” he said, smirking as he removed his hand. “I’m fine. As long as you don’t intend for us to die, we’ll be fine.”

“So you’re doomed then,” I said, sitting on a low walk and putting my head in my hands as Hunt barked out a laugh. “This is so wrong.”

“Cheer up, Red,” Hunt said, a smirk in his voice making me look up at him. He had a red cloak in his hand and a ridiculous grin on his face. “Look what I found.”

“I don’t actually like the color red, just so you know,” I said, scrambling after him as he purchased the cloak.

He tossed it to me, a brow raised. “I believe that ‘thank you’ is more customary,” Hunt said, “but maybe witches aren’t all that civilized.”

“Thank you,” I bit out.

“You’re welcome,” he said, as if we hadn’t been arguing at all. I was relieved that he had forgiven me enough for our easy banter to return, but Hunt had clearly made it his mission to annoy me for the rest of our journey together.

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