Page 19 of The Demon’s Collar (The Bard’s Demon #1)

Ero: Hear No Evil

Bardic Advice from Eroithiel von Dua to future generations: Don’t assume you know your own strength before you test your limits. Maybe not even then.

I thought the most significant thing that would happen the next day was the confrontation with Lars Wendlin. But life is full of surprises. Good old Lars came in a solid second.

When I woke, I felt eyes on me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end. My spine prickled. The tendrils in my chest rose, on high alert. I turned to look at the only other sentient being in the tent, confident I would find him staring at me. I did not.

B?k slept on. Head back, lips slightly parted, inferno of a chest bare to the morning chill. The scar from the holy water in the cave cut a jagged line on his hip. He looked like a gods-damned piece of art .

As that very thought formed, I heard a distinct scoff.

I sat quickly, scanning the tent, but there was no one and nothing else there. I blinked. Unease carried me to my feet.

A long moment passed.

Nothing happened.

I shook dried mud from my clothes and pulled them on, leaving B?k’s borrowed shirt on the floor.

I combed my hair out and wove it into a fresh braid, humming quietly to lace it with magic to shield against fire and ill-intentioned hands.

Then, I scooped up my things and ducked out into the morning light.

It was earlier than I’d realized. Brü stood by the fire, but most of the camp still slept.

I needed to figure out who Lars was and exactly how I intended to handle him.

I approached Brü with that in mind—wondering if I ought to ask directly or have him point me to Aelith—but he slapped a small book into my hand without so much as a hello.

“What—”

“The codex,” he said. “I suggest you read it during our morning ride. We’re back on lead today.”

I looked at the little book, perplexed. I was already on edge from the phantom eyes following me. Now I bit my lip, worrying that I’d unintentionally gotten into some sort of trouble with faction leadership.

“If there’s going to be a fight,” Brü said, more to the satchels he was dumping, rearranging, and repacking than to me, “I wouldn’t want to know about it. On the road, I’d be duty-bound to shut it down until we’re back at the base camp.”

Slowly, I smiled. “I see.”

“Huh. Some of this isn’t going to fit,” he said, nonchalant and still not looking at me.

I peered at the items he held, a random assortment of loot gathered along our way. Why he didn’t shove it onto one of the carts?—

“Do me a favor?” he asked. “Just hold on to these for the day.”

He held out a wispy silk vest that felt like chainmail when it brushed my fingers.

It was clearly of fae origin, though I’d never felt a material like it before.

Next came a handful of potions labeled in careful scrawl—strength, constitution, speed.

Then a few sharp throwing knives in quick-draw sheaths.

I wanted to hug him. If I’d been a swampy water elemental and he’d almost died in me , I was pretty sure I would have made a deal with a warlord to become a hot blonde for him too. Get it, Aelith.

They treat you like a child.

I stiffened.

The voice was deep, dark, male and…inside my head? I shot looks in several directions, but I didn’t expect to find the speaker this time. Dread pooled in my gut. I knew without knowing that the voice was just for me. I didn’t know how or why, though.

What are you? I thought.

Nothing.

Brü stared at me with concern in his thoughtful eyes. I realized what I must look like—clamming up at the not-quite-mention of my fight to come—and what that might lead him to assume. So, I forced a smile. I was not going to let anyone think I was afraid of Lars Scum-of-the-Faction Wendlin.

“I’ll keep it all safe for you,” I said, matching Brü’s conspiratorial tone.

His concern appeared to ease. He waved me off with a reminder to review the codex, and I ventured to the mess tent to gorge myself on breakfast foods.

Our ride that day was uneventful. B?k didn’t join us at the outset. He was bent over a map with Colonel Astrada when we rode out. But he caught up with us as we neared the end. I was dutifully flipping through the codex when his horse pulled astride mine.

“Studying?” He smirked.

I shot him a quick, assessing look. He seemed to be in a good mood, which was rare. Particularly considering the minor holy water incident hanging over us.

“Just making sure I don’t get myself into trouble.”

He snorted. “A book isn’t going to help you with that. You have a penchant for trouble.”

I bit back a smile.

You allow him to control you. So weak. Such a disappointment, Eroithiel.

I swallowed. The voice hadn’t spoken all day. Not since it’d mocked me that morning. I’d never lost the feeling of being watched, but after so many quiet hours in the saddle, I’d let it fade to the back of my mind.

Now, it’d used my name . I didn’t love that.

“Something wrong, kitten?” B?k’s tone remained light, but I sensed the suspicion in it.

I don’t know why I didn’t want to tell him about the voice. I mean…I guess in general, one wouldn’t want to advertise signs of madness. But something deeper tugged at me. A sense that it would be dangerous for B?k to find out about this.

Brü called us to a halt.

I let out a slow breath, glancing sideways at B?k. “Did you mean it last night? Wendlin is mine?”

Understanding dawned on his face. My distraction worked .

“All yours,” he confirmed.

I nodded and made a point of focusing my mind on Wendlin. If B?k wanted to read my desires, he was welcome to. I just needed to focus them on Lars for now. Mercifully, the creepy voice did not interfere again.

We set up camp. I threw myself into the many tasks that needed done and made an art of avoiding conversation. I prodded a few times at the presence I still felt watching, hoping to goad it into giving me something I could use to identify it. It did not rise to the bait.

Finally, the second party arrived. B?k left at Brü’s request so I could play protections into place. It took longer than it should have. I struggled to hold the tune. If Brü noticed my distraction, I assume he chalked it up to nerves.

The carts arrived with the rest of our company in tow a few hours later. By then, I was ready. Not necessarily in a “prepared to win a fight” sense, but certainly in a “prepared to start one” sense. Good enough.

I dropped the things I wouldn’t need in my tent, swallowed all three of Brü’s potions, and returned to the fire feeling my inflated senses ripple with anticipation.

After a miserable night hiding from the rain, factionites crowded the raucous community space. I scanned faces and listened to conversations until I heard what I was after. It didn’t take long.

“Lars! Tell the one about the troll!”

I followed the eager man’s eyes and found my mark.

He was tall, lean but fit, and had floppy dirty blond hair that he had to push out of his eyes several times as he deflected his companions’ entreaties to entertain them.

In case I needed further confirmation that this was my guy, the man sitting next to him had ink snaking down his neck that I recognized all too well .

Wendlin wielded an understated command of his pack. Even the larger, meatier men deferred to him. They arranged themselves around him in a way that showed the pecking order quite clearly.

There were no women. That was also telling.

Even though Wendlin didn’t have the build of a grappler, experience reminded me he was stronger than he looked. Nerves trilled in my belly.

Is one mediocre alchemist all it takes to undo you, Eroithiel? the dark voice taunted inside my head.

My teeth clenched. I thought as hard as I could in its direction, “ Tell me who you are and why you’re here, or fuck off.”

The voice did not deign to respond.

Irritated anew, I closed the distance between Lars and me before I could talk myself out of it.

He looked up. I’d already been ninety-nine percent sure Aelith was right when she’d named him my attacker last night—but the look in his eyes at that moment took my certainty to one hundred. A predatory mixture of amusement and disgust colored his face.

“What do we have here?” he drawled. “Where’s your lute, Princess? Going to play me a pretty tune?”

At the word princess , the tinderbox that was my patience torched.

“No, I was thinking I might castrate you for what you tried to do to me last night.”

The surrounding conversations died.

One flash. One flash of utter appalled outrage was all I got. He was so quick to mask it. His expression settled back into languid confidence almost instantly.

“Oh, Princess, don’t do that,” he said. “I told you I can’t let you out of initiation. It wouldn’t be fair. Even if you act like a little whore and promise to?—”

My fist connected with his mouth before he could finish presenting his twisted version of events. Pain lanced through my hand. Possibly thanks to the strength potion, because I’d hit him harder than I’d ever hit anything in my life.

Which wasn’t terribly comforting, considering he lurched to his feet barely fazed.

“You’re going to fight me, you stupid piece of shit,” I said, “or I’m going to report you to Astrada for attempting to rape a factionmate.”

Wendlin’s amusement vanished. In my experience, rapists didn’t like the word rape. It made them feel dirty and wrong. Good.

He stood, a silvery whip appearing in his hand. “Your word against mine, Princess.”

“My word is that you’re a small, weak coward and an opportunist. And you can deny it, but I think even your friends know who’s telling the truth.”

We moved, step mirroring step, until we found space.

This wasn’t what I’d planned. I’d expected to challenge him, goad him into accepting, and then…

I don’t know. Perhaps go to a nearby clearing somewhere and establish rules and stakes and do this duel style.

The punch had brought things to a head a little more quickly. And now everyone was watching.

“I knew you were a soft little thing,” he taunted. “In case you wondered, your lies won’t make you any friends.”

His hand didn’t move, but the whip shot out. It came too fast to block, snapping against my shoulder. The tip singed my cheek. I sucked in a gasp, but managed not to cry out.

I palmed two throwing knives. He couldn’t kill me. It was in the codex. If he did, Astrada would punish him and then deliver him to Austvix for probable execution. I didn’t care if I lost, I reminded myself. The point was to expose him. I’d already achieved that objective.

A meaningless objective.

I bristled at the voice, flinging both knives at the same time.

Wendlin didn’t even flinch as he deflected them and answered with another crack of his whip. This time, I anticipated it and dodged—though there was still no visual warning. He was fighting with magic, not brawn.

I realized belatedly that I should try to do the same. I reached for my tendrils, willing them to do what I needed rather than whatever chaotic thing they chose for once.

They stirred…but they did nothing.

“I’m bored and I want a drink,” Lars drawled.

It was the only warning I got. His whip swirled into action again—but it was merely a distraction. Six tiny blades flew from his off-hand. Two came for my knees, two for my arms, one for my face, and one for my stomach.

Time froze.

I lifted my arms instinctively, shielding my face. But I still would have been skewered five different ways had the disgusted voice in my head not pushed me one last time.

Fight, Eroithiel. Or just die and get it over with.

The tendrils in my chest unfurled. Fury uncoiled from my core and burst out, knocking the blades from the air and riding my rage to and through Lars Wendlin.

For a moment, I didn’t realize what had happened. I felt his flesh part, felt his heart sizzle, felt the sluice of his brain liquefy. But it wasn’t until I saw his very dead, very bloody corpse hit the ground that I fully comprehended what I’d done.

There she is .

The voice and the eyes that had followed me all day vanished with that final pronouncement.

The screams reached me then. They echoed around us. Hands gripped my arms. I didn’t fight them. A cloud of heat reached me from one side—B?k—and Aelith’s voice rose above the din, but I couldn’t focus on her words.

I’d killed a factionmate.

I was so…so fucked.