Page 40 of To Hunt a Demon King

“Because,” Hunt replied, voice muffled slightly through the wooden door between us. “You can’t improve perfection.” I scoffed, making sure he heard my derision loud and clear. “And it’s a village festival,” he shouted. “It would be strange if I dressed more formally.”

“Then why do I have to?” I shouted back.

“Because all the unmarried girls wear white,” he shouted back. “Is that not a custom in the Witchlands?”

“For the mortal girls, maybe,” I shouted back. “Witches wear black for the Beltane ceremony.”

“Well you’re not a witch here, remember?” he shouted. “That would definitely raise questions.” I sighed, inspecting myself in the small mirror. Not a witch mirror, I noted, just a plain old looking glass.

The white silk dress Hunt had purchased for the occasion was a truly lovely thing, but I felt very exposed. The dress fell off my shoulders, delicate swoops of fabric hanging over my upper arms, and the bodice was snug. Mama’s necklace was on full display, and I briefly wondered if I should remove it, but there was nowhere to hide it. Once again, my garment was plagued with a lack of pockets.

On my insistence, Hunt had purchased a cheap wooden comb, and I used it to try to work the worst of the knots out of my hair. Against the white dress, the copper in my hair shone almost pink, soft irregular waves falling over my shoulders. The spattering of freckles across my nose seemed to stand out more than usual, and I rather thought my eyes did too. I felt far more energized than I had all through the Bloodwood, but I supposed a comfortable bed could do wonders.

I felt rather pretty, all things considered. Based on what he had said in the wood, I hoped Hunt would agree. I shook myself at the thought. I shouldn’t care what Hunt thought. It would probably be something sarcastic anyway.

I took a steadying breath, preparing myself for whatever Hunt might say upon seeing me vaguely resembling a lady. With a grimace, I realized that I didn’t have shoes that would be appropriate, and I sighed as I pulled on my dirty boots beneath the white silk. Very ladylike. I pulled the boots off, deciding just to go barefoot.

“Time’s up, Red,” Hunt called through the door. “The sun is setting. Get out here.”

I sighed, pushing the door open. Hunt was perched on the end of the bed, playing tug-of-war with Akela, who, despite having returned with a bloodied muzzle as evidence of his hunting, seemed to act more like a giant dog than a wolf most of the time. He had something clamped tightly between its teeth, and Hunt was smiling as he pulled it back and forth and Akela growled after it.

Hunt wasn't dressed up, but he was in clean clothes, and he looked like any of the villagers in brown leather trousers and a clean white shirt. The shirt made his tan skin seem more golden than it had in the Bloodwood, and it was open at the neck and collar, revealing a slight dusting of dark hair. Curse my stupid eyes for noticing that.

I coughed, and both Hunt and Akela looked up from their game, the rag they were playing with falling to the floor.

“Well?” I asked, turning once on my bare toes to show off the dress. “Will I embarrass you,my Lord?” I tried to inject ire into the title, but Hunt’s face stopped me in my tracks. He was looking at me strangely, and Akela looked at me interestedly, giving his tail an uncharacteristic wag.

“I’m gladyouapprove,” I said to the wolf, scratching him behind the ears as he butted my knee. He left a wet patch on the silk skirts, but I didn’t really care. It was nice to feel his approval.

“Well?” I asked again, looking at Hunt. He closed his mouth, pursing his lips.

“The necklace doesn’t match,” he said darkly. “You should take it off.” I laughed.

“So you can make off with it?” I asked. “I think not.”

“I can’t take it, Red,” Hunt said irritably, still looking at me a little strangely. He stood and walked around me, as if appraising the overall look. “But fine, keep it. Maybe the villagers will assume it’s a betrothal gift.”

I grimaced, now contemplating taking the thing off, and Hunt chuckled as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.

“Reverse psychology really does work on you,” he said, raising a dark brow. “As long as I approve of something, you hate it.”

“Not everything,” I argued. Hunt raised a brow, as if pointing out that I was in fact arguing. “I like Akela.”

“Hmm,” Hunt said, scratching the wolf under the chin. “Akela is not nearly discerning enough in his taste in friends.” Akela huffed at Hunt in protest..

“You might be right about that,” I said, giving Hunt a wry look. He glared at me, and I couldn’t help cracking a smile. I was glad we were back to easygoing, instead of outright hostility. “Should we go?”

The faint sounds of music from the square had started to waft toward us, and Hunt sighed as if dreading the evening.

“Let’s get it over with then,” he said, gesturing toward the door. “Lead the way, Red.”

I didn’t bother to hide my excitement as I skipped down the stairs and out into the square. The night wasn’t exactly warm, but it wasn’t too bad, even with my bare feet. Villagers from all around had already started to gather and dance in the square, where a painted maypole had been erected to one side, and children laughed as they danced merrily around it.

I tilted my head up to look at Hunt and gave him a childish grin.

He frowned down at me. “You’re going to have to pretend to be more dignified,” he said, plastering on what was obviously a fake smile, and hooking my arm through his. He guided me toward the tables, greeting villagers by name and making jokes. The fake smile quickly became a real one, and Hunt was affable with all of them, more than he had been with me on most of our trip together. I felt an odd pang of jealousy at seeing this jovial, likable Hunt.

“Drink?” Hunt asked, offering me a glass of something red and sparkling.

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