Kiss of a Demon King Read Free Page A

been so close….
    “The third time, they chased her into a raging river. The poor girl couldn’t swim, and she drowned—”
    “Then take it, you bitch!” a woman shrieked from downstairs, interrupting the flow of the story once more. Ah, the Queen of Silent Tongues was yielding to Lanthe.
    Sabine’s skin prickled as the air began to sizzle with power. The sorceress jailed downstairs was surrendering her root ability. Lanthe would be able to talk telepathically to whomever she addressed, within a certain distance.
    “No, don’t fret,” Sabine told her antsy humans. “Have you read any of the halfpenny novels, the ones with bank robberies? That’s all my accomplice is doing now. Except she’s stealing something equivalent”—she made her voice dramatic—“to your soul !”
    At that one woman began crying, which pleased Sabine because it reminded her why she so rarely took humans as pets.
    “Who killed her the next time?” Brazen Mortal asked. “Vrekeners?”
    “No. It was other Sorceri bent on stealing her goddesslike power. They poisoned her.” The Sorceri so adore their poisons, she thought bitterly. But then she frowned at the memories. “It did things to the young girl’s mind, this repeated dying. Like an arrowhead forged in fire, she was made sharp and deadly from constant pressure and blows. And she began to covet life as no other before her. Whenever she felt hers was in danger, a mindless fury swept through her, the need to lash out undeniable.”
    When some of their eyes widened, Sabine realized her pensiveness had made the cell appear to be choked with mist. She often unwittingly displayed illusions that mirrored her thoughts and emotions, even when dreaming.
    As she swiftly cleared the air, another patient said, “Good miss, wh-what happened after the poisoning?”
    “The sisters just wanted to survive, to be left alone, to amass a fortune in gold through just a bit of sorcery. Was that too much to ask?” She gave them an “honestly?” look.
    “But the Vrekeners were unrelenting, tracking them by the girls’ sorcery. Especially the boy. Because he hadn’t reached his immortality by the time he made that leap, he didn’t regenerate. He’d been broken, scarred and deformed from his injuries forever.”
    They’d since learned his name was Thronos and that he was the son of the Vrekener Sabine had beheaded all those years ago. “Without the use of sorcery, the girls were starving. Sabine was now sixteen and old enough to begin doing what any girl like her would.”
    Brazen Mortal crossed her arms over her chest and knowingly said, “Prostitution.”
    “Wrong. Commercial fishing.”
    “Really?”
    “Noooo,” Sabine said. “Fortune-telling. Which promptly earned her a death sentence for being a witch.”
    She fingered the white streak in her red hair, the one she hid from others with an illusion. “They didn’t always burn witches at stakes. That’s a fallacy. No, sometimes a village had burned its quota, so they killed secretly, burying a group alive.” Her tone grew soft. “Can you imagine what it was like for the girl to breathe earth? To feel it compacting in her lungs?”
    She gazed over her silent audience. Their eyes had gone wide—she could hear a pin drop.
    “The humans expired quickly, but not so for Sabine,” she continued. “The girl withstood the reaper’s call for as long as she could, but felt herself fading. Yet then she heard a ringing voice from above, commanding her to live and to rise from her grave. So Sabine mindlessly obeyed, digging against others’ dead flesh, blindly stretching, desperate for another inch closer to the surface.”
    From behind them, Lanthe’s voice intoned, “At last, Sabine’s hand shot up from the muddy ground, pale and clenched. Finally, Melanthe could find her sister. As she hauled Sabine out of her grave, lightning struck all around and hail pelted them—like the earth was angry to lose her catch. Since that fateful