Page 46 of Daemon Master

Seymour responded by staggering to his feet. He swayed precariously but kept his balance. Glancing at Adrian, he gave a determined nod.

Adrian let out a breath, relaxing muscles he hadn’t realized he’d tensed. “Thank the spirits. Ireallydidn’t want to cart your heavy butt for hours through the forest again.”

Seymour barked a laugh. He hobbled to Souleater, studying the pacified daemon. “Quick thinking back there. Not quite how we’d intended it, but the fiend’s as helpless as a newborn babe.” He gave Adrian a pointed look. “All that’s left now is to finish it.”

Adrian’s eyes widened. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Seymour gestured at Heartrender. “Or, more specifically, your daemon. It’ll be hours before Tremorfist recovers enough for me to resummon him, and you or I would be hard-pressed to do it ourselves without a suitable weapon.”

Adrian swallowed. Staring into Souleater’s dulled eyes conjured unpleasant memories of Trailseeker. The daemon might be dangerous, but did it really deserve death?

“What if there’s another way?”

Seymour’s expression darkened. “Don’t you dare suggest we let it go. I made that mistake once. I willnotmake it again.”

“I don’t want to release it. I want tobondit.”

A pause. Then, Seymour hissed in a breath. “Spirits below, are youinsane?”

“I know it’s risky—” Adrian began.

“Risky? Spirits take you, it’ssuicidal! After all the effort it took to subdue the spirit-cursed thing, you want to undo the bondstone so you can try toreasonwith it?” When Adrian didn’t reply, Seymour pressed on, his voice full of forced calm. “I know you have a soft spot for daemons, but we can’t risk that monster breaking free—not with us so weakened.”

The watcher had a point. To attempt a true bond, Adrian would have to release Souleater. That opened them up to a counterattack they could ill-afford. But acknowledging that harsh truth did little to alleviate the guilt churning in his gut at the alternative.

“I suppose you’re right,” he said, shuffling his feet in the lifeless dirt.

Humor quirked Seymour’s lips. He cupped a hand over his ear. “Could you say that louder, please? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

Despite his jumbled emotions, Adrian managed a half-smile. “You know, it’s fitting I’m the one to carry out this important duty. After all, Iwasthe champion of our duel.”

Seymour’s grin morphed into a scowl. “I never yielded. That match was officially a draw.”

“That’s not howIremember it. As I recall, I had you on the ground with my knee in your gut and my daemon at your throat.”

“Fine,” Seymour said, reddening. “Claim your prize,champion.”

He gestured again at Souleater, and Adrian’s good humor evaporated. With a curt nod, he steeled himself and kneeled by Heartrender. She must have sensed the direction of his thoughts, but she left the final choice to him.

“Finish it,” he whispered.

Heartrender yipped softly and moved past him toward Souleater. Adrian looked away.

He sensed the moment Souleater died and turned back in time to watch the last of its aether dissipate in a blue shimmer. His final bondstone clattered to the trampled dirt, its energy spent.

Seymour clapped him on the back. “You did the right thing, Adrian. Theonlything.”

Adrian didn’t answer. Even a daemon like Souleater deserved a proper chance—a proper choice. Something scuffed the ground, and he whirled, on guard for an additional threat. Had Icetusk returned? Picking up on his emotions, Heartrender loosed a low growl.

His eyes fell on the rocky outcrop near the clearing’s center, and he mentally kicked himself. He’d gotten so caught up in his argument with Seymour that he’d forgotten their original purpose. The likely source of the scream they’d heard earlier wormed his way out of the narrow crevice in the stone and stood, dusting off his simple clothes.

“Hi.” Adrian smiled in what he hoped was a friendly way. “It’s all right. We won’t hurt you.”

The boy didn’t answer. He couldn’t have been much older than fourteen. His eyes darted between them, his body tensed as if ready to bolt.

Adrian cleared his throat and tried again. “My name’s Adrian. And this is my friend, Seymour.” The wordfriendfelt strange on his tongue, but he supposed that’s what they were again after their heart-to-heart last night.

Seymour shot him a glare, and at first, he thought the watcher had taken offense to the label. Then, he winced, silently chiding himself for his lack of caution. Probably not the smartest decision to give the boy their real names when they were on the run.