He looked Barnaby up and down as if he was assessing livestock at auction.
“Mr. de Maupertuis argues that the holiday requires a professional operator. Not a mascot who gets winded climbing stairs. The Title has yet to disagree.”
This was getting better and better. “What exactly does that mean?”
Isengrim rolled his eyes. “It means that this is your three weeks’ notice. Then the Fox and the Hare face the Challenge. Fail one benchmark, and Reynard assumes the Title. The Fox becomes the face of Spring again.”
He leaned in close enough that I could smell the expensive cologne barely masking his predator musk. “And you, Mr. Warren, become just another rabbit in the woods. And we both know what happens to rabbits in the woods when they don’t have their magic protecting them, don’t we?”
I moved another half-step forward and watched Isengrim hold his ground without flinching. “And me? What happens to me, Wolf?”
Isengrim’s expression shifted into something that might have been pity if wolves were capable of that emotion. “You are merely a contractor. A fitness trainer, isn’t that what you call yourself? Very modern. Very marketable.”
He gestured vaguely at Barnaby’s shaking form. “Tell me, Brok: doesthislook like fitness to you?”
As much as I hated to admit it, he was probably right. My carefully calibrated programs simply didn’t work on Barnaby. But we were making progress, damn it. With Hazel’s help, we were finally headed in the right direction. And I wasn’t about to let some overgrown dog imply that our work together was worthless.
I stepped directly into Isengrim’s personal space and watched his nostrils flare as he caught my scent. “You think running through brambles beats my training with Barnaby?”
“I think Reynard is a natural.” Isengrim held his ground, which I had to respect even as I wanted to throw him into the nearest tree. “He doesn’t need color-codedspreadsheets and motivational mantras. He steals chickens for cardio. He is pure talent honed by centuries of experience. You… Face it, Brok. No matter what ‘Orc Method’ you use, there’s no way to come out on top if your trainee is barely scraping the bottom of the barrel.”
Every barb was carefully designed to jab at Barnaby’s already shaky confidence. Or maybe he didn’t even care about that. Maybe he was just that certain Reynard would win.
“Three weeks.” Isengrim dropped the Challenge envelope on the wet grass like it was contaminated. “Reynard is already leaner and meaner than he was in 1604. I suggest you work on making the rabbit survive. That’s probably the best you can hope for at this point.”
As soon as he was gone, Barnaby buried his face in his paws while his entire body shook. “It’s over. This is it. I’ve lost the Title.”
I picked up the envelope and broke the wax seal with my thumb. The document inside was five pages of legal terminology, all of it boiling down to:Prove you can do your job or lose it to someone who can.
There were no dramatics now. No tears, no wailing. Only the simple reality of someone who’d already descended into a depressed acceptance.
Absolutely not. “It is not over.”
“Reynard is better than me, Brok,” Barnaby replied. “You know he is. He wasfaster. He was smarter. He was more efficient. He just wasn’t cuddly. And that doesn’t matter anymore. Not now. Not when the placeholder got too comfortable.”
I looked at him sitting there, sweaty and miserable and convinced he was worthless. Three months ago, he couldn’t run at all. But he was still putting in the effort.
I grabbed him by the back of his sweat-soaked sweater vest and hauled him to his feet. “It is not hopeless. It is a challenge. And challenges are solved with work.”
“Reynard has been training for this moment for two hundred years!”
“Reynard has been sitting on his tail for two hundred years feeling sorry for himself.” I shoved the document into my gym bag and pulled out my phone. “He thinks he can walk back in and reclaim a job he abandoned. He thinks past performance guarantees future results. He is wrong.”
I opened my training app and pulled up a blank programming template while my mind raced through calculations. “We have the gym. We have the equipment. We have the science.”
“We have Hazel,” Barnaby whispered, her name coming out almost like a prayer.
My fingers froze over the phone screen.
Hazel.
Sweet Hazel, who made Barnaby smile. Who made me forget about counting calories and proper form. Whotouched my arm and called me intense in a way that sounded like a compliment. Who had absolutely no idea that supernatural challenges existed, that Titles could be stolen, or that gods, orcs, and entities like us were real.
I shoved my phone back in my pocket and turned to face him with enough intensity that he took a step backward. “No. She is human. She stays out of this.”
“But she’s been helping! The healthy treats! Brok, she could be the key to—”
I put my hand on his shoulder and felt him flinch under the weight of my grip. “Hazel is not part of this world. She does not know what we are. And she is not going to find out. We protect her by keeping her ignorant.”
