Page 17 of Once Upon a Demon's Heart
“How should I address you?” I ask, lowering my eyes back to the smoldering fire that’s being put out with heavy snowflakes. It’s going to take time to get to know their ways of life and social standings. I should at least try to make a genuine effort.
“Lieutenant or just Tessa is fine.” She doesn’t wait for me to respond before standing and moving to the far end of camp. I observe silently as she helps Kalel order the knights around to prepare their horses for travel and to put out campfires. I remain sitting, cold and shivering under this godsforsaken blanket, until everything is demolished and packed up.
Kalel approaches me with unreadable eyes. He appears irritated to be stuck with me. He’s dressed in his full suit of armor, minus the helmet. My eyes catch on his pointed ears again. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to being this close to a demon. Especially the ones that bite.
“You’re with me,” he says, implying that he’s ready to go.
I stand with the blanket still wrapped around my shoulders since I haven’t been given anything else. I’m too proud to ask for anything warmer, especially since he already had given me that dragon pelt cloak in the woods. I wish I would’ve brought it back to the kingdom, so I had the chance to bring it with me, but I knew if anyone saw the rare cloak, they’d ask questions. Which is why I left it in a hollow tree by my campsite in Florum. Although I’m not sure Kalel would’ve let me keep it even if I somehow had managed to bring it with me.
Gods know he enjoys watching me suffer.
I would do immeasurable things to not be me.
Kalel leads me to his tall black stallion at the head of the group. He mounts it easily, throwing his leg gracefully over the side and sitting stoically aboard the beast. He stares down at me indifferently for a few moments but offers me his hand when he decides there’s no way I can attempt to climb this horse again, especially with a blanket wrapped around me like a shawl.
I take his cold, callous hand and he lifts me up as though I weigh nothing. His arms wrap around my waist as he takes the reins and whistles for his army to follow. I’ve never felt so small in my entire life, physically and spiritually. I was pretty out of my mind the other day with everything that was unraveling, but today my head is clear. And I fear I’ve made a horrible mistake. Maybe I should’ve tried testing my chances more on the battlefield with him.
My ass hurts before midday.
I’ve ridden plenty of horses, but not for extended periods of time without proper gear and having a wall of metal and muscle at my back doesn’t help at all.
Riding horses is a complicated way of travel, especially in winter and with unfamiliar company. I shiver beneath the blanket as the cold northern winds flow through the fabric. Kalel has already sighed heavily several times at my reaction to the frigid temperatures. How could he possibly understand what it’s like to be cold when he’s incapable of feeling it? Demons rarely have vulnerabilities to temperature according to him. I scowl at the winter wastelands ahead and try to stop shivering to no avail.
His body is like a block of ice at my back, offering no warmth or comfort.
“Tessa,” he calls to his lieutenant. She reins her horse to his side in a matter of moments. “Let’s take a break to feed the horses and the troops.” She nods and whistles in a strange tune that the others seem to understand means to take a break.
Kalel doesn’t stop though. His horse keeps heading straight, adjacent with the forest wall to our right until he locates a small red flag hanging from a long outward stretched branch. He pulls on the reins, and the horse turns into the forest, following a frozen path made of stones to a small cottage tucked away in the woods.
It’s modest. The walls are made of gray cobblestones. Hibernating vines cling to the sides of the exterior, framing the old scuffed up windows. The roof is made with two-feet-thick hay slabs and a small stone chimney juts out on the left side.
Kalel dismounts and plucks me from the saddle without a word. I keep my eyes lowered as he opens the cottage and steps inside. When I don’t immediately follow him, he lets out a long, exasperated breath and runs his hand down his jaw. The darkness in his gaze doesn’t falter as he watches me shiver beneath the blanket.
“Come,” he demands.
I concede and step carefully into the cottage. It’s dark and musky. The smell of an abandoned home—stale. I stand in the center of the small room and take it in. It’s made up of only a kitchenette, small dining, a fireplace, and a mussed bed in the corner. From the dust and cobwebs that cling to the surfaces, I’d bet that it’s been a long time since someone’s lived here. Likely flushed out from the war.
We’re completely alone. Why did we stray from the group? My heart sinks with all the thoughts running through my mind.
Kalel lights the fireplace with some matches he pulled from his satchel, then orders me to sit on the floor in front of it.
I do as he says and pull my legs close to my body. My muscles are frail from a combination of essence exhaustion, my reluctance to eat, and being drained of blood. To top it off I’m freezing too, but it’s better than starting over another time loop.
I stare into the flames as Kalel rustles around the cottage collecting things. There’s not much to look through, only a few cabinets in the tiny kitchen and some dressers in the far corner.
At least the warmth from the flames is already seeping into me and thawing my bones. I let my eyes flutter closed.
What happens if I die now? Do I reset again? Or is this it? I’m no curse expert, but whatever the gods have planned must be going the way they finally want. Otherwise, I don’t think I’d be here.
Why me though?I sullen as I open my eyes and watch the flames dance.
Kalel reaches down and steals the blanket away from me. I don’t complain or raise my chin to look at him. I only hold my arms closer and try to absorb as much warmth as I can. A few moments pass before a heavier fur blanket falls over my shoulders. My eyes widen and I glance up at him. He doesn’tmeet my gaze, instead he sets a pot he must’ve filled with water over the fire.
Is he… cooking? I observe as the revered Blood Knight, in his full suit of Devicitian armor, pulls a small bag of dried toadstools from his satchel and drops an assortment of them into the pot. He adds a few drops of oil and half a bottle of some sort of purple glittering liquid.
“You really are an apothecary, aren’t you?” I offer him a small grin, only because it seemed so unlikely that he was honest with me that day. He’s honest, I’ll give him that.
He sits back on his haunches and gives me a side glance once he’s done adding all the ingredients. “I told you I was, didn’t I? This soup will help keep you warm for the remainder of the day. Foxflick and Barbosi are essence-rich and will replenish your energy.” He actually talks to me like he’s not ready to take his sword to my throat. He sounds gloomier and more lost in his thoughts than anything else.
