Fox clamps Soulkiller between his teeth as he rolls up his sleeves, exposing a pair of strong golden forearms fleckedwith little white scars. For a brief moment I recall what it felt like to be held in those arms as he carried me through the frozen forest. And I recall waking hours later, still furious but less disorientated, to the sound of Fox murmuring softly to Cedar.
‘Who were you talking about the other day?’ I ask, unable to help myself.
Fox removes the dagger from his mouth. ‘When?’
‘After my … outburst. You said,I’m sure she’s fine.But you didn’t mean me.’
He aims another swing at me. I manage to dodge it, but stumble.
‘Remember your balance,’ he says mildly. ‘Find your centre.’
I plant my feet. ‘Answer the question.’
‘I was talking about Scout,’ he says, lifting my arm back into position.
‘Scout?’ I repeat, frowning. ‘Who’s Scout?’
Fox smiles mysteriously. ‘A friend.’
I can’t help arching a brow. ‘Youhave friends?’
He smirks. ‘Does that surprise you?’
‘Truthfully? Yes.’
‘What about us, Storm Weaver?’ Fox asks, slashing Soulkiller so close to my ear I can hear it slice through the air. ‘Are we friends?’
‘No, we’re notfriends,’ I snap, a little too viciously. ‘We’re …’ I pause. ‘We’re two exceedingly ill-matched individuals who just so happen to share a common goal.’
He chuckles as though I’ve said something perfectly charming. I adjust my grip on Silverclaw and take a swipeat him, which he sidesteps with maddening ease. We circle one another, our daggers gleaming in the late-afternoon sun.
‘Besides,’ I continue, using my forearm to wipe the sweat from my brow, ‘friends don’t spy on each other’s memories.’
Fox looks unmoved. ‘You know, during my time in Katteran, I came across a rare bird,’ he says. ‘It was an ill-tempered creature which would peck at you if you got too close. The trader told me it could talk, and indeed it could. Only, it kept reciting this one line, just repeating the same thing over and over. It grew rather tiresome after a while.’ He grins. ‘You remind me of this bird.’
I glower at him. I have every right to be furious about what he did, and I’m far from ready to forgive and forget.
‘Tell you what,’ Fox says, sounding amused. ‘Let’s strike a deal.’
I narrow my eyes, ducking as he aims another lazy swipe. ‘What kind of deal?’
He twirls his dagger. ‘We’re both aware that if this little duel were real, you’d be dead. I’m not asking you to best me, only that you put up a good fight.’
‘And what’s in it for me?’
‘A question. We both know how much you love those.’
‘A question about what?’
‘Me,’ he says simply. ‘It seems only fair, after all. I snatched a glimpse of your past, albeit unintentionally, and now I’m offering you a chance to do the same. Then we’re even, and you can do us both a favour by finally getting rid of that chip on your shoulder.’
I hesitate, mulling this over. While I imagine it would be difficult letting go of this particular grudge, I can’t deny that his offer intrigues me.
‘Fine,’ I tell him. ‘Deal.’
In truth, I thought I was doing rather a good job of putting my new skills to use. But as the pace begins to pick up, I realize I wasn’t. Fox is still holding back, but even now, using a mere fraction of his strength, he’s a formidable opponent. His movements are precise and instinctive, his reflexes impossibly fast – always one step ahead.
‘How do you make it look so effortless?’ I pant.
