Page 5 of The Demon’s Collar (The Bard’s Demon #1)

B?k: Thrill of the Chase

An excerpt from The Adventurer’s Compendium, entry on Demons: “The best strategy for evading a demon is to avoid eliciting interest or any other strong emotion to begin with. The second-best strategy is to pray.”

“ T here was no resistance at all?” Colonel Astrada demanded of our scouting party. “Not even a minor conflict?”

After I sent the bard to get her ink, I’d hoped for a moment of silent respite in my tent.

I had plans to make, now that I had a fresh lead on the Finchton matter.

Unfortunately, Astrada decided the debrief couldn’t wait.

Her minions herded us unceremoniously into the command tent, and there we sat, reporting all the nothing we encountered in great detail.

Fl?r opened his scroll and gestured to the two measly paragraphs he’d recorded, then said in a tone bordering on impertinence, “It’s right here, Colonel.

That band of townies was the whole of it, and I’d bet my left nut the Huntress didn’t even know about them.

They weren’t fit for target practice, ’cept B?k’s new little pet. ”

Fl?r looked triumphant about his report, because Fl?r was an idiot. I saw what he did not—the growing uncertainty and concern in Colonel Astrada’s icy blue eyes. She smelled a trap.

Astrada ran a hand through her silver locks, which hung uncharacteristically loose.

She and the rest of leadership had been close to turning in for the night when we’d arrived.

I’d never seen Astrada’s hair out of its typical skull-tight bun.

The effect was disconcerting. My thoughts wandered briefly to the bard’s erratic auburn braid.

Lingering notes of her salty tear teased my tongue.

I clenched my fist, imagining how it would feel to grip those silky tresses—to wrench her head back.

What precisely would it take to make her scream my name?

“B?k?”

Astrada stared pointedly at me.

“Apologies,” I said drily. “I find it taxing to pay attention when the jester speaks.”

Fl?r flushed. Colonel Astrada smirked faintly, but there was no humor in her sharp eyes. She held my gaze.

“I asked if you had a sense of the Huntress’s intentions,” she said—or, probably, repeated. “Is it possible she actually abandoned the area wholesale? Or do we have reason to expect conflict in the pass?”

Colonel Astrada was cleverer than most. She would make her choices independent of my recommendations.

It was unusual for the Huntress to abandon large swaths of land.

We would need to move cautiously as we crossed the contested territory to rejoin our base camp.

But what Astrada really wanted to know was if I’d had any precognition about the enemy’s plans.

I was no oracle. My ethereal gifts were more temperamental than that.

I could taste desire like a sixth sense—but intention, I had to work to unravel.

Unfortunately for the colonel, I hadn’t yet had a moment of peace to do so.

“I’ll do my best to have an answer by morning,” I hedged. “Barring that, as Fl?r noted, we saw little action on our run. We’re more than capable of scouting in the morning.”

Fl?r’s expression darkened. Technically, we were owed a few days of light duty.

There were other scouting parties Astrada could send.

But aside from the fact that we were the best, any hope I had of reading the Fates would be exponentially more successful away from the larger group and their aural interference.

“As B?k said,” Brü cut in, “we can go.”

“I’m afraid that would be best until we get a stronger sense that our path is clear,” Astrada said. “We’ve lingered here long enough for our enemy to make plans. I mislike that. Not to mention, we’ll be hauling a lot of supplies with relatively few soldiers to protect them.”

I kept my face carefully neutral, though the delicate criticism of faction leadership amused me.

Astrada had to follow orders—but she knew damned well that it would be her head if those orders were flawed.

And they clearly were. We’d ventured this way with three hundred bodies.

Two hundred would remain behind to populate the newly established outpost in the caves.

That meant there were only a hundred in the returning party to protect the train of carts bursting with the logs, crops, game, and raid spoils we’d amassed from the contested lands.

I couldn’t have designed better bait if I’d tried.

“Bed down, crew,” Brü said with finality. “We’ll ride ahead in the morning and clear the way.”

Fl?r shoved out of the tent first, leaving no doubt what he thought of the plan. Brü was less of a child about it, but he too looked frustrated. After weeks in the saddle, he was ravenous for some time with his woman. How frustrating it must be to have human attachments.

I stepped out into the clear starry night, hoping once again to find my solitude.

From the dim path, I surveyed the camp, listening to its unique pitch.

No two camps ever sounded quite the same—even if they contained most of the same factionites doing most of the same things.

The audible hum of energy in the air was an alchemical combination of the place, the moment’s weather, the alignment of the stars, and yes—the people with their ever-shifting arrays of emotions and intentions.

I listened, knowing that if I could spare just a moment for stillness, I might catch a thread that would tell me everything Astrada hoped to know.

And that’s when I noticed the silence.

Not in the camp—that was as loud as ever—but in the pitch of energy around me. An absence. Where the bard’s colorful hum had been since I entered those caves, there was…nothing.

The tent flap rustled as Brü, who must have lingered to have a private word with the colonel, came out.

I ignored him and strained, listening with all my senses, earthly and otherwise. Through the wild, tangling thicket of vibrations, I finally sensed it. Faint—and growing fainter.

She was running.

“What is it?” Brü said darkly, noting my expression.

Fury bloomed in my chest and flowed to the tips of my fingers. I gritted my teeth, forcing a calm I didn’t feel because I knew everyone around us would be privy to my emotions if I didn’t rein them in quickly.

“Go to Aelith,” I bit out dismissively .

Brü frowned. He wanted to listen—obviously. But he was too attuned to me to pretend he had noticed nothing.

Knowing he wouldn’t leave it at that, I snapped. “The bard ran.”

The flash of sympathy on his face was clearly not for me. Brü knew damned well the bard wouldn’t get away. Leave it to him to feel sorry for her.

“Try to enjoy the chase,” he said cheekily, a hell of a lot more relaxed now that my fury didn’t require his attention. “Just don’t go mad? And don’t exhaust anyone we need.”

I grunted. I might have told him to fuck off, but a flash of blond hair accompanied by a feminine squeal announced Aelith’s arrival.

She hated foul language. I tried to avoid provoking her, purely as a favor to Brü for not being half as irritating as every other human on the continent. It was a delicate balance.

Brü caught Aelith midair as she leapt into his arms and wrapped herself around him. But for their clothes, they probably would have copulated right there on the path. The tenor of their mutual desire sang so loudly it drowned out everything else.

I walked away.

My anger grew steadily as I stalked into the dark, giving the tents a wide berth so that I might let my rage flow freely without starting a fire.

I’d been more than fair with the bard, hadn’t I?

I wouldn’t pat myself on the back for keeping scum like Fl?r from touching her—the emptiest threat I’d ever issued—but I would have been well within my rights to claim that precious lute of hers.

Or to smash it. She’d been foolish to parade around as faction.

I could have branded her for that, too. I could have caged her.

I could have—perhaps should have—used that collar to compel her obedience.

My mood soured further at the thought. How dreadfully boring that would be.

To put a will as strong as hers on ice. No, souls like hers were designed to be tamed—twisted and teased and bent until they broke.

Then repaired and broken all over again.

The collar was supposed to be a fail-safe, not a necessity.

Yet she’d had the audacity to cry and beg and sing empty promises—and then spit in my face at the first opportunity.

I’d shown restraint with her in the cave. That was over now.

As I circled back to the barracks to gather a handful of initiates to man the hunt, a flicker of something…

not exactly happy , but satisfied grew in my chest. Damn Brü.

He knew I would enjoy this. Knew I’d been longing for entertainment outside of the slog.

Try to enjoy the chase, he’d said. I wouldn’t do that. But I sure would enjoy the catch.

I led my little party of initiates into the woods, content in knowing their nervous energy didn’t come close to what I would tease from my kitten when I caught her. Her pain would be the sweetest salve for my weary bones—and by morning, I would drink that inflated will dry.

The bard was about to learn a lesson.