Chapter 1

ChapterOne

There ought to be tears when plotting a man’s demise. Or at least hushed whispers, quiet chambers, and secretive movements. Not the strange mixture of laughter and smiles that surrounded Selene.

But maybe this was different. They weren’t plotting to just kill him, after all.

They were going to make his life miserable as well.

Idle chatter and the hushed whisper of sorceresses mingled in the air. She could pick out each voice by name. Minerva, Sibyl, Ursula, Bathilda. Mother, sister, cousin, friend. Not by blood, no self-respecting sorceress would ever have a child of her own womb, but by circumstance and necessity.

They moved around her like the undulating waves of the sea. They crested, hands rising as they wove a spell around her, then broke at the floor where they carved runes into the cold stones with knives usually used for sacrifice. Today, they were sacrificing for her.

Selene had never thought this day would come. A foundling like herself, trained to be a sorceress but not yet welcomed into the fold, was never given an important task. But she’d been born for this. Molded and shaped since the day she was left shrieking at the front door. Her mother had known what a rarity they had been given, and what opportunity they would use her for.

Today, she would tempt a demon king, and then she would bring him to his knees.

Wind whistled through her dark hair. The columns at the peak of the Tower only funneled the bitter cold ever closer. And it was always cold, this high in the mountains. The home of the sorceresses, the Tower of Silver Thread. Home to the Eternal Sisters, Wives of the Night Sky.

The white marble floor reflected the cold light of the sun, which even here cast no heat upon their home. Seven women surrounded her, for seven was the number of sorceresses. Each had their part to play in this spell that would weave her to them. Together, they would cleave Selene to her purpose forever more.

Why had she agreed to this? Because she wanted to finally be part of a family that she’d always looked at from the outside. If she succeeded, they would take her as their own. As she had dreamt of since the moment she’d been born.

The first workings of the spell thrummed through the air. She heard it, the whisper sound of a violin in the distance, screeching like a woman’s scream. The spell suddenly fractured around her. Silver threads hanging in the air, suspended for her to see all the fine points of their unbreakable spell, like a spider’s web woven only for her.

“Daughter,” her mother said. Minerva’s voice had deepened through years of smoke inhalation and prophecy seeking. The wind whipped around her, hugging close to her body and crackling with energy. That was Minerva’s special talent.

As they all had a special talent.

Selene ducked her head, avoiding eye contact with the High Sorceress as she approached. In this moment, the woman before her was not her mother. There was no softness to her. No kindness in those features at all.

“You were delivered unto us as a gift. You will stand beside the Beast and you will bend him to our will. Too long has this land suffered without the hand of a sorceress plucking at the strings of life. You will be the first act in our battle to take back our land.”

The first act, but not the last.

“I accept,” Selene said. Her own voice had yet to suffer from the terrible misuse of spell work. Someday she would sit in that smoke filled room, chanting with her sisters as she sought her own future. But not yet.

“You will tempt him,” the High Sorceress’s voice weaved around her. The spell warped as she spoke, drawing closer and closer to Selene. “You will make him believe he has found a rare rose while you set roots throughout his kingdom. Every movement you make, every word you say, it will draw him to you. Like a moth to a flame.”

The other sorceresses repeated her words. The spell flexed again, and then it was upon her.

Selene gasped. She’d felt the touch of magic before, but never like this. It was sticky and warm, clinging to her skin like the web it was meant to be. She didn’t mean to touch it. It was a reaction her body could not prevent. One moment, she felt it touch her and the next, her pinky finger just barely brushed against it.

She didn’t think anyone even noticed she’d touch it, but Selene did. She felt the tiniest of rips. One thread of that spell had stuck to her hand and when she jerked to remove that touch, it... loosened. Snapped. Gaped a little and only she knew that there was a hole there.

A weakness.

Selene opened her mouth to tell her mother they needed to do it again, but then pain struck her to her knees. Gasping through it, Selene reached for the High Priestess. One hand outstretched, her fingers curled into pained claws.

No one would help her. They all stared, eyes burning with glee, happy to see the pain settle into her because that meant they had done the spell correctly. It should hurt. Magic always did.

The sizzling ache curled up her body like she was being burned alive. It hissed through her mouth, singed her torso and seared her lips. Only to rest at the base of her neck, where spine met skull. A symbol would remain there, she knew. A symbol that only other sorceresses could read.

Cursed.

Hunted.

Burdened with purpose.

On her knees before her sisters and mother, she took a deep breath and then staggered to her feet. There is no room for weakness here, her mother’s voice whispered in her ear. A memory from long ago but never forgotten.

She forced herself to shake off the horrible feeling of the spell. Selene squared her shoulders and laced her fingers at her waist. “I accept this purpose, High Sorceress. I will stop at nothing until our will is the command of this kingdom.”

“Of course you won’t.” Her mother broke through the circle of runes to run her fingers along Selene’s jaw. “You are my best creation, pet. Now, go to your demon and we will all watch him fall.”

Now? Selene had hoped...

She didn’t let the thought take flight from her mind. One of her sisters had already started drawing the runes of a portal. There was no time to waste. She knew what she had to do, and she knew how to do it.

But she hesitated. This was her home. She’d grown up here with only memories to keep her safe. The softness of the blanket Ursula had given her for her sixteenth birthday. Hugs from Sibyl after a particularly trying day. Even the stories that Minerva would tell her about a time when sorceresses had ruled these lands, long before the demons had come and destroyed all of it. These were the memories that would make her wish to return.

Selene couldn’t return until she’d made a demon king bend to her whims, but she hadn’t ever believed she’d be forced to be with him.

The sparking sound of a portal shooting to life made her flinch. She wasn’t even dressed like herself. Selene was more likely to hide underneath long layers of clothing and thick woolen skirts. The more layers, the better. It was too cold here for anything less.

The travel clothes of a sorceress were far from what she would consider comfortable. Leather leggings encased her legs, squeezing too tightly. The corseted top stole her breath and pressed her breasts up like a serving platter. Not to mention the long gloves that covered her hands, all of it marked with protection runes. Anyone would take one look at her and know where she was from.

“You’ll be back in a few days,” Ursula said. Her nearly white hair swayed at her hips as she held out a small pack for Selene to hold. The smile on her dark face gleamed. “You’ll lead him here after he sees your pretty face. I have no doubt at all.”

“And then we’ll deal with him,” Bathilda added darkly. Her close cropped dark hair had only just begun to curl after she’d shaved it. She held out Selene’s cloak. “Make haste, sister. We all want this over with quickly.”

Selene had to bite her tongue. Did any of them think they wanted this over with faster than her? She was the sacrifice for the demon. She was the one who had to convince him she was worthwhile for his attention, and get him back to the Tower. They only had to sit here! None of them had to wonder how much a demon would compromise who they were.

But she couldn’t say any of that. Her job wasn’t to complain or even to point out how unfair this situation was. She needed to drag all that into the dark recesses of her mind.

Selene always thought her power felt like sinking underneath the surface of an icy lake. At first, it hurt to shove those emotions into a place no one else would ever find them. But then it felt... nice. Cold, perhaps. But at least she couldn’t feel.

“Good,” her mother said, coming up behind her. “You’re ready.”

Because, of course, the High Sorceress would feel Selene shove those emotions down. It was hard enough to swallow that her sisters would throw her to the wolves. But her mother? Selene’s flair of anger should have burned through her. Instead, it was a mere spark that flew away and then dimmed into nothing.

“I’ll return with the demon, Mother.”

“I know you will.”

And with that, Minerva planted a hand on Selene’s chest and shoved her through the portal.

She hated portal travel. The pull of magic on her body that unmade and then remade her as it spat her out somewhere other than the Tower. Selene had traveled before, but never alone. Never to find a demon.

She stumbled out of the clear magic that looked somehow like water and landed on her hands and knees in the dirt. At least her sisters didn’t see her stagger through. They’d have made fun of her mercilessly for it.

Shoving back the wild tangle of her dark hair, she leaned back on her heels and planted her hands on her thighs. Where had her bag gone? She needed that. There were a few outfits in there that were necessary to catch the attention of a demon.

Her eyes followed the dirt path she’d landed in the middle of. Mud ruts were dug so deep into the earth, she could only assume this was a trade route. The emerald green grass on either side of her gently rolled to the forest’s edge.

Was she near Greenbank? That wasn’t where she’d thought she’d end up.

Someone cleared their throat. She glanced down the path again, her pack suddenly lost to her thoughts, and found herself looking at a young man. He stood in the center of the road with a wagon behind him. An old horse was hooked at the front, happily munching on grass even though its sway back seemed to make the lean of its neck difficult. His pants were covered in mud, his white tunic yellowed with age. But he had a pleasing face and bright green eyes that glowed with amusement in the dirt smeared expression he wore.

He held her pack out to her and pushed at the dirty blonde mop of hair on top of his head. “This yours?”

“It is.” She made no move to get up, though she did eye the smears of mud on her bag. “Why do you have it?”

“Well, it landed nearly on top of me. I stopped the wagon, all confused when a leather bag fell out of the sky, and then you dropped next to it.”

“Neither of us fell out of the sky,” she corrected.

“Where’d you come from then?”

She wasn’t about to tell him. If he was so uneducated that he couldn’t tell a sorceress when he saw one, then she wasn’t about to inform him of it. Nevermind that she was a foundling, no one would understand what that was outside of the Tower. Besides, she didn’t have time to answer questions.

The few times she’d left her home, she’d gotten the impression that the citizens of this kingdom were uncomfortable around her kind. Magic folk, she’d heard them whisper more times than she could count.

The young man tilted his head to the side, looking her up and down. “I wouldn’t imagine someone with clothes as fine as that would want to kneel in the mud much longer.”

Was she?

Selene glanced down and realized that the rather cold sensation on her knees was indeed mud. She looked up at the man as though he knew how to help her, before heaving a sigh. She was supposed to arrive and make an impression, not blend in with the locals.

“Unless you are needing... help? Are you hurt?” He dropped her pack—the bastard—and then rushed toward her.

Selene threw up her hands. She’d defend herself if she needed to, but really, was he so stupid as to attack a sorceress in the middle of nowhere? No one would find his body when she was done with him. But he approached swiftly, gripped her elbows, and drew her upright. Gently. All of it so gently.

Blinking at him, she felt her jaw drop open.

He flashed her a much too handsome smile. “You can pay me with a kiss, miss. If you want to keep looking at me like that.”

She blinked again and felt tiny furrows deepen between her brows. “I’m not going to do that.”

“Ah.” The young man released her and rubbed the back of his neck. “Sorry ‘bout that. I’ve just always wondered what it would be like to kiss one of those clean ones, you know? The untouchables.”

“Excuse me?” She had no idea what he was talking about, but he’d already turned around and picked her pack up out of the mud.

“You’ll be going to the Festival then, yeah?” He climbed onto his wagon, not looking back at her at all. “They all come here for the Love Festival. Maybe you’ll get lucky and Lust will pick you to go back to his castle.”

Lust? Another name for the demon king who ruled this land. But why was the man saying his name with reverence?

“Where are you going?” she asked, planting her hands on her hips. “You have my things.”

Another bright grin. “I figured you’d be needing a ride into town. We’re a ways out yet.”

She shouldn’t. She should walk, because who knows what this young man might be planning? He could drag her to his home and she’d have to burn his eyes out to get away.

Or... Not. He might actually want to help.

“How far?” she asked, suspicious.

“At least a day’s walk. You’ll miss all of it if you don’t get a move on.” He made a show of pursing his lips and holding a hand out to his brow as though staring off into the distance. “But you could follow the signs, I suppose. Might not get lost.”

He had a good point. Selene hadn’t traveled to Greenbank in years. She stomped toward his wagon with a curse on her lips that never quite made it out into the air.

The hairs on her arms stood up. Her entire body clenched with something unnamed, although the young man’s gasp made her realize what it was. Lust. Quickly, she gathered up all the emotions in her body and dunked them into the icy water of her magic.

Bury it, Selene, she told herself. Bury it deep.

She was still frozen, cold as she always was, when the carriages started past them. Gold and gleaming in the sunlight, they were more like children’s toys than they were practical. Even the mud didn’t stick to those wheels.

And she swore for a moment, when the middle one rolled by, there was a face in the window that looked at her. She only caught a small glimpse of him. High cheekbones, golden hair, bright blue eyes.

Then they moved past her as though Selene and her new found companion never existed.

It took a while for either of them to make a sound. The young man blew out a long, steady breath. As though he were counting the length of it before he shook his head.

“Get on the wagon if you’re coming with me.” His voice had deepened, gruff sounding now. Uncomfortable.

She didn’t hesitate this time. Selene climbed up onto the bench in the front and dragged her pack into her lap. “You sound different.”

“Not surprising.” He grunted again and then reached into his pants to adjust himself.

Horrified, she swiveled her eyes to the front of the road and sat rigidly beside him. “Was that really necessary?”

“Indeed it was. Can’t help it when the Lord of Lust rides by.” He let out a little curse and then snapped the reins. “You’re wishing you’d kissed me now, I reckon.”

She didn’t wish that at all. She wished she’d never left home.