Page 127 of The Fox Heir

Something like relief transforms her face. Her shoulders relax, and what looks like genuine grief passes through her eyes. “He’s the last card we have to play.”

“I hope he’s worth the price. He’ll make you pay for tricking him.”

She nods. “Me too, Fox Heir … me too.” She looks older than she did a day ago, as if this battle has taken more from her than just her strength. This couldn’t have been easy for her, bringing me down into this dungeon. This is where she brought her own sister to die at the hands of that monster.

For the first time, I pity Nalina.

Nalina lets out a shaky breath. “I’m sorry I had to cut your hair.”

I shiver at the memory of Moribund’s long, bony fingers running through it. “I’m not.” I sniff. “I’d have cut it off myself after that.”

She nods, understanding me exactly.

Chapter 38

The screams reach us as we climb the spiral steps to the tower of moths. The door at the top is ajar, and when Nalina pushes it open, the sounds from the battlefield grow louder. They reverberate off the stone walls, echoing and multiplying. I glance to the rafters, but they’re bare now, the moths dead and crunched underfoot on the battlefield below.

The Dead Queen stands, looking out an open window. Beyond her, the rain has stopped and the storm clouds have dissipated. Night has fallen, and she’s haloed in the light of a full moon. Her face is barely visible through the sheer veil. Nalina and I stand beside her to view the carnage below.

The moonlight illuminates the chaos on the battlefield. Moribund multiplies before our eyes. His form doubles and triples until there are hundreds of him in the muddy field—all bent-backed, sallow-skinned creatures with long nails and wide eyes. He keeps true to his word. Each of his illusions tears Fox Soldiers limb from limb, but they only attack those in copper armor. The remaining Gwyllion fighters watch in horror.

As we watch, my heart stills in my chest. Tristan and Hunter might still be alive down there. I send silent thanks to the old gods that Hunter didn’t wear his copper armor for this battle. If he had, he’d be dead.

I grip the stone edge of the tower window, my breath lodged somewhere behind my aching ribs. Below, the remaining Fox Soldiers try to run. Moribund’s illusions attack, quick and unrelenting. One lunges and a man loses his face. Another rips open a ribcage with his bare hands. Another sinks its claws into a soldier’s cheeks before he can even scream. The man’s jawbone shatters, teeth scattering like lost coins in the mud.

I want to look away, but my body refuses to move. Of course, I knew the fae were powerful, but I had no experience with the sheer magnitude of that power. How easily a creature like Moribund carries that weight, like it’s nothing at all to kill a man, or a hundred. It’s sickening yet wondrous to behold. Now I can see why ancient humans both feared and worshiped the fae. And why they snuffed them out.

Further out on the battlefield, another Moribund leaps, landing on top of a man twice his size. The soldier’s armor splits apart beneath black-nailed fingers. Moribund reaches up into the gaping hole and pulls. Something red and glistening spills out, trailing strings of sinew. Moribund doesn’t even look at it, just tosses it aside and moves on to the next terrified soldier.

Somewhere in the chaos, Tristan might be bleeding. Hunter might already be dead. For the first time in my life, I close my eyes and send a silent prayer to the old gods. I beg for Hunter and Tristan to survive this night.

Beside me, the queen watches with interest.

“You knew, didn’t you?” I say, turning toward her. “You knew Nalina brought be down to Moribund. You knew about her deal.”

“Of course.” She says this as if it’s nothing. Like giving a once-beloved granddaughter to a monstrous fae is just the sort of thing a queen does on a daily basis. I’d be furious if I weren’t so damn tired. If I weren’t so relieved to see the tides turn on the battlefield.

“I try not to make deals with the fae unless absolutely necessary.” The Dead Queen says as she watches Moribund devour men below. “It’s not honorable to trick allies, even begrudging ones. He doesn’t care if humans live or die, but now that we’ve used him, he will hold that grudge for a long time. Longer than any of us will exist.”

“Will it come back to haunt you?” I ask.

“Most certainly.”

We watch the horror for a long moment before the Dead Queen sighs. “He’s always been a gifted illusionist.” Her voice is reflective. “It’s a shame he’s only motivated by lust. Otherwise, he’d be a magnificent fighter in the borderlands.”

Nalina scoffs. “He’d never fight for Annwyn. He only cares about his own hide. That and his precious blondes.”

The queen shrugs. “What are human concerns to a creature as ancient as Moribund?”

Nalina scoffs. “He’s a selfish, disgusting beast, and we never should’ve made a deal with him for this wretched castle. It’s filled with nothing but misery and ghosts.”

The Dead Queen doesn’t respond. She stands, her eyes closed peacefully, as if relishing the sound of her enemy’s violent demise. Down below, I don’t miss the fact that several Moribunds pocket locks of blonde hair from fallen soldiers. I cringe, and my hand shoots up toward my short hair on instinct.

“Will he go back to the dungeons?” My voice is less steady than I’d like it to be.

“Oh, he’ll crawl back into the dark.” Nalina scoffs. “He likes it down there, as much as he hems and haws about needing sacrifices to keep him away.”

“He’s not a magnanimous creature,” the queen says. “He will kill us all if we don’t keep up our end of the deal.”