Page 11 of The Fox Heir

She pauses, watching me. “You? Want to ‘help’?”

I nod.

She scoffs, shaking her head. “Well, that’s a new one.”

Her sharp dismissal stings. “We’ve only just met.”

“Aye,” she says, cutting the greens more vigorously. “But I know you, Fox Heir. I’ve known you all your life.”

My stomach drops. “How could that be true?”

“I know your people.” She tosses her greens on top of the beets in the basket, then kicks it further down the line of vegetables. She scoots to follow it as she continues working. “The Fox King, and the Fox King before him. The greedy, selfish Llwyn royals, intent on taking the lands of my people. No matter the cost.” Her hands are shaking, her knife cutting less carefully with each new handful.

“I’m not like my father.” I lift my chin, even though I’m not so sure she’s wrong about me.

She scoffs again, ignoring me.

I watch as she moves on to cutting stalks of asparagus. Each slice is crisp and precise despite the gnarled hand holding the blade.

My voice is quiet and earnest when I ask, “What has it cost you?”

She looks up at me. “Everything.” Her voice trembles with emotion. “Your bloody throne has cost me everything.”

She slices another bunch of greens, but her knife slips, slicing into the palm of her hand. The knife clatters to the ground. Her eyes are wide with shock as she takes in the trickle of blood, dripping down her fingers and onto her feet.

I rush forward on instinct. “I can help.” Before I even touch her skin, she pulls back, her eyes alarmed.

“Don’t you touch me!”

“It’s alright,” I say, reaching for her hand again. “I can heal you.” It’s only now that I remember I can’t. My power is still infuriatingly unreachable inside of me.

“I’d rather die of infection!” She scrambles back, smearing blood on the potting bench behind her. She scurries around the planter bed, watching me with anxious eyes. “Don’t you dare touch me with your filthy hands!”

I freeze in place, confused. “I only meant to help.”

Her face is dark with rage that I don’t understand. She spits, her saliva hitting me in the cheek. I’m too shocked to do or say anything before she slips out the door and back into the snow.

Chapter 5

I’m still in the greenhouse when I hear footsteps crunching through the snow outside.

Nalina walks through the glass door. Her curly blond hair is tied back in a braid, but she’s dressed in the same scuffed brown leathers as she wore yesterday. Her mouth is set in a thin line of irritation when she spots me. “There you are.”

“Here I am.” I continue sweeping the spilled soil from the greenhouse floor with a broom and dustpan I found tucked into a corner.

The look on her face suggests I’m due for a scolding, but she hesitates, taking in the room. Where there had been broken pottery and piles of dead leaves, the greenhouse is now clean. I’d spent most of the morning clearing debris and stacking it in a far corner. The potting benches are tidy, their tools organized neatly in empty clay pots. Even the paths between planter beds are swept clean of soil and scattered leaves.

Nalina blinks once, twice. “What are you doing?”

I shrug as I dump the last pail of spilled soil from the ground into a large bucket. I’m not sure if it can be re-used, but I didn’t know where else to put it. “Cleaning.”

“Cleaning … dirt?” Nalina looks at me as if I’m the strangest person in this strange land.

I cross my arms in front of my chest, refusing to be belittled. “What else am I supposed to do in this dilapidated castle all winter long?”

She pauses, considering, then shrugs. “Thankfully, that’s not my problem.” She gestures for me to follow her. “The queen is waiting.”

My stomach drops. Of course, I knew I couldn’t avoid my grandmother all winter, but I’d hoped to draw it out a little longer. With a resigned sigh, I return the broom to its cobwebbed corner and trail after Nalina as she leads me out of the greenhouse and back toward the castle.