Ian didn’t say anything for a long moment. Too long. Only Fox’s breath filled the silence.
“Do you?” Fox asked, chest tight, voice desperate.
“I don’t want you to hate him,” Ian said.
“I would never,” Fox said, answering before his mind started to unravel what Ian was about to say.
The realization must have shown in his eyes.
“He wanted to tell you,” Ian said, his words slow and careful. “He planned on telling you one day, but you were still so steeped in trying to make your father happy. You were always soloyalto the king and Harlow, and he was afraid of how you would react.”
Fox was already shaking his head. Ian was right. He didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to hear thewords.
“Your brother was a part of the resistance, too.”
Fox choked on his next breath, the world spinning beneath his feet.
“But the bomb…” he said through numb lips.
“He wasn’t supposed to be there,” Ian said, voice soft. “We had worked to empty the fort as best as possible that day, sending out rumors of false sightings and the breach. But then you…”
You were there. You disobeyed his orders. You killed him.
“He wouldn’t let you die.” The words felt like they were coming to him through water and when Fox looked up, his vision swam, Ian’s face a distorted blur. “Fox?—”
“No!” he shouted, unable to listen to more. He stumbled on the rocks, stepping into a puddle and feeling the icy water of the sea penetrating his boots. “I have to go.”
Fox wandered the streets,mind spinning and stomach churning. He didn’t intend to start a fight—not at first. But the moment he turned the corner and accidentally bumped shoulders with a heavyset Dereyan man, he felt something inside him settle.
Kings bless the man for snapping at him for an apology. Fox stared back, his blood already thrumming.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” the man asked. “Are you stupid or something?”
Fox didn’t wait. He was long past ready.
He threw the first punch.
It wasn’t a fight he was going to win. The man was shorter than Fox by a few inches, but he was wider, his arms corded with muscle. The man’s first punch sent Fox’s ears ringing and the second had him against the wall. But Fox didn’t stop fighting back until his mind ceased its racing and the pain clouded his grief.
Fox returned to the barracks that night with a bloody nose and two black eyes.
CHAPTER SIX
IAN
At night when the house is quiet and my mind won’t stop spinning, I think of you. You are my weakness, my crutch, and a balm to my very soul. May you never forget the strength you’ve given me to acknowledge what I know is right without shame. But then again, am I truly without shame? I hide here in the shadows, writing this under the cover of dark. I know secrecy is essential, but I hate that one secret begets another. All of this to say that I miss you and I’m counting down the hours until I see you again.
-Handwritten letter from Leon Ocon to Ian Martín, date unknown
Ian watched Fox rush away, the breeze off the ocean cutting through his uniform and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. He couldn’t chase after him. He knew Fox would need time, and there was nothing Ian could say to fix that.
Guilt churned in his stomach heavy and hot, but when his body bent in half, he only dry- heaved. He hadn’t eaten breakfast or lunch. He needed to, but feeding his body felt like a betrayal when the rations he was given were even now better than what most Dragonborn ate when the city flourished.
Once his stomach had finished revolting, he took a deep breath and strode back to his men with a straight back and a grimface. He picked up where they stopped, lining up the Dragonborn from every house, going through the registry and emptying out their belongings until they were sure there was nothing left hidden.
And every book and journal they found made his stomach twist and his heart pound, but he collected them all.
He’s looking for their nesting grounds and a way to control them.
