Page 48 of The Demon’s Collar (The Bard’s Demon #1)

Ero: Kitten

I sat in the dungeon questioning my life choices.

I started with my birth—which wasn’t technically my choice—and cataloged every questionable decision up to and since the foolish idea to seek my father. Why couldn’t I have just been content playing at pubs? Why did I need to meet a man who’d never wanted me to begin with?

The god. The god who’d never wanted me to begin with.

Haz’s left ? —

Nope. Even curses were tainted now.

A huge iron key glittered mockingly on the wall across from my cell.

I suspected it didn’t actually go to anything, that it was a mere ornament to spark false hope.

Just like the Temple Mother’s advice. Not that it mattered either way.

My tendrils were numb but for the occasional painful spark of protest when they grazed the dampeners.

I couldn’t have reached the key even if I’d tried.

I curled on my side, cheek pressed to the dirty stone floor.

It wasn’t night yet, but I was sick of being awake.

There was no safe place to go in my mind.

Not music—which felt hollow without magic.

Not B?k—whose murmured apology still felt like glass shards in my chest. Not even my friends—who I suspected couldn’t be called that anymore since my magic had nearly ended Brü.

I hugged my lute to my chest and closed my eyes.

A rustle sounded in the shadows. I winced. I’d heard it off and on since Austvix left—a rat digging for a scrap of food, perhaps. Not that I’d had any evidence that prisoners here got food. Breakfast and lunchtime had both passed in silence, and my stomach remained empty.

The scrabbling sound came again, only this time it was followed by a faint mew.

I bolted upright just as the tiny creature triumphed. It burst into the cell next to mine from a crack between the wall and the floor. The kitten was Lord Austvix’s Pax in miniature—no bigger than a rat, but just as vibrantly white save for a single black ear.

“Pspsps,” I whispered.

In general, I wasn’t fond of cute creatures.

Particularly since the infestation of shifter moles in B?rk.

(Trust me, once you’ve reached out to pet a puppy and barely escaped with your fingers, you start to see cute quite differently.) But this tiny beast had the same magnetic draw as the one from the alley—minus the threatening yowl.

The kitten trounced through the bars without hesitation and pressed its cold wet nose to my finger.

A tear cut a hot trail down my cheek as I scooped the little guy up. Like he was mine. Like he’d always been mine. Why was I crying? For fuck’s sake.

I cradled him to my chest and choked back a sob as his warm body vibrated with pleasure.

I supposed there were worse things to encounter on the path to imminent death than a kitten. One last moment of comfort was nothing to sniff at.

As if to provide a direct and immediate answer to that thought, a door hinge shrieked.

The kitten pierced my chest with its razor-sharp claws.

I’d like to say I was brave and valiant and jumped to meet my captor with vigor—but in actuality my terror tasted like acid, I trembled, and I clung to the kitten as if it were my final lifeline.

Lord Austvix strode into the tunnel, framed by the dying sunlight. Not a guard in sight.

He was an objectively beautiful man. All hard lines and pleasing colors. I had an absurd desire to bargain for my life by promising to write him a song. I can make them love you. It wouldn’t even be hard.

But they already loved him, didn’t they? A pang of jealousy tickled my gut.

“Is he yours?” Austvix asked, jutting his chin at the kitten as he approached my cell.

I looked down at the little beast to escape his piercing gaze.

“Yes,” I said. Even though I’d only just met the kitten, it felt true.

Austvix sniffed. On cue, Pax appeared from nowhere and curled around his feet. I stole a glance at the intimidating feline. He, in turn, stared assessingly at the kitten and ignored me entirely.

Austvix leaned his forearm on the bars, looking down at me. Millennia passed before he spoke, and when he did, he sounded uncertain. “You’ve made friends here.”

I swallowed. Not many, I thought petulantly. B?k was no friend. And the others—well, they would probably be relieved if Austvix killed me before I could accidentally cook any of them.

The intensity of Austvix’s stare won. I looked up, meeting his eyes. Instead of answering his non-question, I asked, “Are you going to tell me why you want to kill me?”

He tilted his head. I had the distinct sense he was staring into me, just like the Temple Mother. My tendrils rippled with electric awareness—but their power remained out of reach.

“Because I have to,” he said.

I stared. What the fuck did that mean?

“One of Haz’s children will eventually take the Queensdale throne.” He looped one finger around the bar and ran his silver rings down the metal in a musical stroke. “But not before the others die. It’s our birthright and our curse.”

For one blissful second, I was too angry to be afraid. From my mother’s palace—where I’d been born a pariah—to this? Six siblings. Every dream I’d ever had come true. And they all wanted to kill each other, starting with me.

“Did Haz tell you that?” I asked. “That you have to kill the others? Or is that something you all came to on your own?”

Austvix smiled patiently. “The Fates aren’t always clear, but they were in this case.”

“Fuck the Fates,” I muttered.

To my surprise, Austvix dipped his chin in agreement.

“We share that sentiment. I hope it brings you comfort to know that you won’t have to spend your next hundred years at war for a throne you almost certainly couldn’t win.

And that when I kill you, there won’t be any games—no spectacle. I’ll make it quick.”

My fury blossomed into something prickly and hard. “It would bring me comfort if you—you know, didn’t kill me.”

He met my anger with a ceaseless calm. I detected sadness in his stupid gray eyes. And somehow, that made him much worse than a villain I could simply hate.

“I don’t want to rule anything,” I said. “I don’t want a throne. Ever. I want a family. If you kill me, I hope that haunts you.”

And that was true. No part of me wanted to be in charge—to make choices that would affect millions of people.

To sit on a throne and demand loyalty and know that whole lives and livelihoods would change in a series of unfortunate ripples at my every edict.

I wanted to wander. I wanted to meet people and bring them a tiny bit of joy and hope they remembered my name.

Even if that sounded too small to say aloud.

I hunched over, pressing a shaky kiss to the kitten’s head. What if I died before I got to name him?

“You don’t want to rule yet,” Austvix challenged.

There was no heat in the words, but his wary judgement made me bristle. With barely any provocation, I gritted my teeth and pulled myself to my feet. “Okay, Lord Austvix. What exactly makes you the most worthy leader among us?”

The bite in my own words bolstered me. I’d forgotten how tall Austvix was, and I still had to look up to glare at him, but doing so felt a bit righteous.

His sad smile grew cold. “Not a thing beyond the process of elimination, Princess .”

I blanched. That fucking empty title.

“If you get to meet the others,” he said, shrugging, “you might understand. But it’s nothing to me either way. I don’t need you to like me.”

“I want to,” I said, sounding very much like I wanted the opposite—but I pressed on before I lost the chance. “Brü told me why he joined the Fated. You sounded almost worth knowing.”

He snorted. “Brü flatters me, I’m sure.”

The familiar sound of steel on leather raised my hackles again.

Austvix pulled a long blade from its scabbard.

The metal gleamed black with an oily finish.

But it was the overwhelming terror I felt immediately upon seeing the blade that shook me.

It had to be an enchantment. I was afraid to die, but I didn’t think Austvix meant to strike now.

No, the sword itself was the problem. It whispered rhythms that made my hands shake.

It gleamed in the shadows as if it belonged to them and yearned to get out.

The kitten writhed against me. I realized too late that he was affected too. He jumped to the ground, and a fresh fear choked me. That he would run and I would never see him again. Instead, he cowered behind me.

Austvix nodded to himself. “Show me yours.”

I barely heard him. My mind was still screaming at me to run, apparently forgetting that I was locked in a cage and could not. Thoughtlessly, I fumbled for my knife and tossed it at his feet.

Austvix pursed his lips like I was being intentionally—rather than accidentally—stupid. “Your blessed weapon, Eroithiel.”

His expression was neither cruel nor friendly. He seemed…curious. And the tiny shred of self-preservation inside me begged me to latch onto that .

I pulled the bow from my satchel and extended it toward the bars.

Austvix reeled back, putting two full strides between us. I thought briefly that he was joking. He was not. His face twisted in a way that told me my weapon affected him as much as his affected me.

Pax hissed.

“Sorry,” I said—mostly to the cat. I pulled the bow back.

Austvix looked at it warily from where he stood. He seemed to be trying to work something out in his mind. “Who did you kill with it?”

“Nobody. I didn’t even think I could shoot it until a couple of days ago. I shot a tree.”

Absently, I pulled the sheath of arrows out. Austvix’s expression darkened further.

“Then whose soul is in there?”

I stared. “What?”

He grimaced and took two painful-looking steps forward to return to his place by the bars. He reached through, plucking one arrow from my sheath. He held it with two fingers as if it were a flesh-eating slug. “You killed someone.”

I blinked. Could Wendlin’s soul be in there?

And then it hit me.

“When we were ambushed,” I said, “one of your men had my bow. I found him with the arrow in his eye.”

Would Austvix believe that? Or would he think I’d killed one of my fellow soldiers on the sly and blamed it on the bow?

Luckily, he only nodded to himself like what I said made sense.

“Did you say his soul is in there?” I pressed, more than a little horrified .

He replaced the arrow and looked at me again. The tiny divot between his eyes deepened.

“If you’re going to kill me anyway, you might as well satisfy my curiosity first,” I pointed out.

He made a face as if I’d finally made a point he would accept. “What do you want to know?”

“Start talking, and I’ll tell you when to stop?”

His lips quirked. “Well, our father has a sense of humor. We all have these.” He ran his finger along his blade, and I swear I could feel it in my spine. “They’re designed to steal souls.”

I blanched.

“Specifically each other’s souls, but the weapons aren’t picky. They’ll take what they can get.”

I carefully set the sheath and the bow on the ground. The kitten took the opportunity to dart back into my hands, and I lifted him to my chest again.

“What about the broken staff?” I asked, holding the furball firmly with one palm as I fished the rune-covered wood out of my satchel. “Your Temple Mother gave it to me.”

Austvix looked at me like I’d just exposed my privates.

“If one manages to convince our illustrious siblings to choose a ruler,” he said, his tone making it clear he thought there was a better chance of convincing the world to duplicate itself so we each had our own copy to rule, “then the staff will allegedly help the chosen one keep the peace. A powerful but ultimately useless object. I wouldn’t keep it where the others could reach it unless you’re offering it to them, though. ”

I considered that. Haz was the god of war and peace. Ostensibly, then, he’d given his children a choice. They’d chosen war. With all the righteous certainty of one who’d never met most of them, I blamed them pretty harshly for that .

“If you all want to kill each other, why would they agree to come here for my execution?”

“We signed a treaty,” he said. “It’s to everyone’s advantage to know who’s left on the field.

So, if one of us dies in battle, the victor is supposed to host a peaceful visitation.

Likewise, if one of us captures another, the victor is required to allow the others to witness the execution—so long as they agree to a peaceful visit. ”

“How civilized.”

If my sarcasm bothered him, he didn’t show it.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way,” he said. “Truly. You’re the least awful sister I’ve met. But I have thousands of people relying on me. I won’t gamble with their safety.”

Hopelessness settled deep in my gut. We were cordial—but we were still at an impasse.

How was I supposed to argue with him? I didn’t want to die.

But that wasn’t good enough, was it? If what he said was true—if what the Temple Mother said was true—he was making the right call. And the right call was my death.

Once again, my eyes burned.

What was the point of this? My existence? My life? My death? Why had Haz bothered with me if none of it meant anything?

“Well, thank you for explaining, I suppose,” I said listlessly, ready to turn away again.

The screech of the door stopped me. Footsteps pounded on the stone floor.

“Sir—”

“I told you I wasn’t to be disturbed,” Austvix said in a tone that brooked no argument.

“The Huntress,” the soldier panted. “The Huntress approaches. ”

I turned in time to see Austvix go pale.

“How long?” Austvix asked.

“Sir, they’re already at the pass. We have an hour at most before they reach the gate.”

“An hour? Where are our scouts?”

Even in the heat of the moment, I noticed the way the soldier pressed forward.

In my mother’s court, the messenger would have cowered—stumbled back—prepared to flee.

Because she would have punished him. Why did it make my insides ache to know my brother was better than her?

And yet, he was just as determined to be rid of me.

“Dead, sir,” the man hissed. “Huntress traitors came to warn us. Our riders rode out to confirm. We wouldn’t have known at all otherwise.”

“How many did she bring?” Austvix demanded.

The soldier didn’t need to say the answer aloud. Even I saw it in his terrified eyes. “My lord, it appears to be the whole faction.”

Austvix’s mouth settled into a grim line. “Then the Great War is here.”