Page 3 of Hunting Her
My heart races. I have the most… soul essence? I knew they manipulated our souls, but is this the purpose? To remove pieces of us until we’re empty husks, doing their bidding without complaint?
Faced with the demon king, a beast who’s said to feast on human souls, I don’t think it’s a good thing that I have the most soul left.
Do I make a move? I’ll die trying to escape, but at least I’ll keep the remaining shards of my soul.
“You say she’s obedient?” the king asks.
“Yes.”
“What work does she do in the castle?”
“She’s cleaned the palace top to bottom, organized the library, and washed the feet of visiting officials. Everything a good servant would do,” the guard lists.
And it’s all served me well to gather information for my eventual escape. Information flows freely in the presence of unassuming servants they think wouldn’t dare to use it.
“Has she pleasured any of them?”
Bile rises in my throat. That’s one task where I might have broken my obedient streak. I’m lucky it was never demanded of me. I know some of the other prisoners were not so fortunate.
“No, Your Grace. She came to us untouched, and we didn’t want to break her chastity for just any official.”
How do they know that?When I sold my soul, not knowing I would end up here, I never volunteered that information.
Iama virgin. I was only eighteen when I asked desperately for help I thought would never come—barely starting my life when I accepted the assistance that turned out to be a life-long curse. But they’ve never mentioned that they knew… or that they were saving me for anyone.
Shuddering, my head spins and I clench my fists at my sides, resisting the urge to look up to meet the eyes of the demon king once again.
I don’t like how I’ve been called out as special in this lineup of slaves. I want to blend in with the rest—maybe it would be better if I’d had more of my soul torn from me before. Now, it’s too late to escape the piercing gazes of the king and his advisors.
“I’ll be taking her back to the Underworld with me,” the king proclaims. “The rest can go.”
Lips parting, I stay stock still as the room bursts into action around me. The guards start urging the rest of the line to walk, the sound of their chains jangling against the floor once again harassing my ears. Our head guard starts walking toward me.
It sinks in that the decision has been made. I’ve been chosen, and whatever the demon king has planned for me, it’s not going to be good.
This can’t be how it ends.
I’ll die with my soul intact, thank you very fucking much. Even if my only option is to fling myself through a window, here and now. Maybe the ground will be close and luck will be on my side, giving me a thick forest to flee to.
More likely, I’ll at least have a quick death.
But I have to try. It’s not in my nature to be passive. That’s why I’ve been plotting my escape since the moment I arrived here.
The guard with the curved dagger passes within reach as he takes up position at the back of the ambling line. I dart my hand out and grab the weapon, swinging around and slashing at the guard who’d spoken to the king. Blood spurts from his forearm, and he shouts a curse.
A hush falls over the room. I take steps as big and fast as the shackles allow. I’m not getting anywhere fast, waddling like a penguin in these things, but I use every second of their shock to my advantage.
No one grabs me until I’m halfway through the chapel, making a beeline for the double doors. I grunt and swing the knife again, but one of the king’s advisors grabs it in his bare hand, his other holding my shoulder in a bruising grip.
His lips are curved into a smirk, black shaggy hair falling partially in his eyes. When I try to yank the knife back from him, he chuckles. “Feisty.”
“Let her go, Iz,” the king commands. “I want to see what her plan is.”
He releases me and my knife in an instant, bringing his injured palm to his lips and licking a long line down the wound. My gaze darts up to the king, who hasn’t moved.
“Proceed.” He waves a hand to me. “Show me how you’re planning on leaving.”
None of our usual guards dare to move as I shuffle backward a few feet. I have a sinking feeling he’s only letting me do this so that he can stop me at the last possible second, crushing my rising hope to smithereens. My only choice is to take my chances.
