Page 100 of The Fox Heir

“He doesn’t leave the dungeon while we’re here. It’s part of the deal.”

“Then someone brought a girl to him. Delivered her to be killed?”

He nods. I study his face. His jaw is clenched, his eyes tight on the horizon. A shiver runs down my spine as realization spreads through me.

“Who?” I ask, though I fear I already know the answer.

“It doesn’t matter.” He closes his eyes.

My resolve is firm in this. I need to hear him say it. “Who?!”

“It’s one of the duties of a Wolf.”

“Which Wolf?” My eyes are slits of rage, but I refuse to break my glare.

His head drops as he stares at the frozen ground. “I did,” he whispers. “I always do.”

My heart sinks into my stomach.

“And I will live with that horror every day, until I die.” His voice is hollow, haunted.

I can’t stop staring at him, searching his face for a sign that it isn’t true. That he’s lying. I’d begun to care for this man, this Wolf. He’s my sworn enemy, yet I’d let him touch me in the most intimate ways. I’d craved him like the dying crave life.

And he’s a murderer.

Chapter 31

I feel frozen in place, just another icy statue in this ruined castle. Then, a familiar voice breaks into the conversation.

“I tried to warn you.”

I spin around to see Hunter step out from behind the ruins of old Gwyllion. His hair gleams gold in the morning sun. His brown eyes are pinned on Tristan in disgust.

“I told you not to trust the Wolf.”

Tristan straightens slowly, turning his head to study Hunter. “I wondered when you’d stop sulking and start tormenting me again.”

Hunter’s cheeks redden. “I’m not here to torment you. I’m here to do my duty.”

Tristan raises a dark eyebrow. “Since when are you a spy?”

“My duty isn’t to spy. It’s to protect Sienna.”

“She isn’t in any danger from me.”

“That’s not what it sounded like.”

The Wolf bristles. “Then maybe you shouldn’t have been listening from behind two tons of ancient stone.”

My head aches, and I rub my temples. “Enough!”

Both men turn to look at me. For a moment, it feels like old times. Back when the biggest worry we had was escorting Tristan to the borderlands in one piece. It wasn’t even three months ago, but it feels like ages. I force my hands into my pockets to keep from strangling the two of them, and my fingers brush the little green book.

Hunter stomps toward us. The copper-plated sword at his hip glistening in the morning light. He must have gone back for it after abandoning it in the throne room.

Tristan doesn’t bother to stand up from the toppled marble column. Instead, he leans back on his elbows, as if settling in for a leisurely bout of sunbathing.

“If that fae has his eye on Sienna, we need to get her out of here.”