Page 130 of The Fox Heir

He steps closer, and I hold up my knife, a silent promise to gut him if he tries anything. Little does he know, I plan to gut him either way.

“It’s abhorrent. Unnatural.” His voice trembles with disgust as he says the words. “You’ve sullied the Fox Throne. Ruined it with the stench of Wolves.”

I refuse to take his bait. “This ends here.”

He laughs and claps his hands together, his limbs loose and unafraid. “Oh, is that so?”

“Your men are all dead.”

He tuts. “No. Not all. Llwyn is a large territory, after all. Growing larger by the day, in fact. Regardless of whether we take this measly little castle or not.”

I grit my teeth and clench my fist around my knife’s bronze hilt. “You don’t deserve the Fox Throne. You’re cruel. Selfish.”

He raises an eyebrow, studying me. “And you’re not?”

I bite my tongue at the truth in his words.

He grins, moonlight glinting off his canines. “We are both Foxes, you and I. The difference is I am a king.” His grin dissolves into a snarl. “And you are nothing but an ignorant pup.”

He takes a quick step toward me, but I’m faster. With one hand, I grab the back of his neck and stab my blade deep beneath his ribs. Hot blood gushes over my fist.

“This is for locking me up in that rat-infested dungeon.” I pull out the blade and stab him again. He grunts and grasps for the bloodied hilt that’s buried deep in his stomach. “This is for killing my mother and blaming me for it.” I pull out the knife and stab him again. The color drains from his face. “And this is for what you did to Grandmother.” I wrench out the knife, and stab him a third time, putting all my anger into it.

Tears prickle at the corner of my eyes. Finally, I feel the sweet release of vengeance that I’ve been searching for, ever since I was twelve years old. Ever since Grandmother disappeared and I was left alone with a man who hated me.

Up in her tower of moths, I know the Dead Queen is watching as I smile at my father for what might be the only time in my entire life.

Suddenly, I realize that none of his guards have stepped forward to save their king. My eyes flicker between them as unease settles over my bones. I look back at my father. His eyes bore into mine. He clamps both hands over mine … and twists the knife, driving the blade deeper. Slowly, his lips grow into a self-satisfied sneer.

I know that face. I’ve fallen into one of his traps. I stumble backward, pulling my knife out of his stomach as I scramble away. The Fox King struggles to stay standing. A wet gurgle erupts from his mouth as he spits blood across my face.

He stares me down with a bloody, unhinged smile. “Who needs an heir when you can live forever?”

Dread fills me.

“Red!” Behind us, I hear Tristan’s voice.

“Sienna, no!” Nalina is with him. They’re coming to save me. But they’re too late.

A giant King’s Guard grabs Father by the arms, steadying him on his feet. Deep red blood oozes from the wounds in the Fox King’s stomach.

“Finally.” He chokes out a laugh, his teeth stained red. “You’ve served me well.”

With horror, I watch as another guard steps forward with a silver blade and slides it beneath Father’s ribs. Father’s grin falters as the guard reaches up into his chest cavity and tears out his still-beating heart. It glistens red in the light of the full moon.

A momentary shadow passes across the field, like a ripple in a pond, and I know that the Dead Queen witnessed the horror from her distant tower. With what should have been his final breath, Father looks back toward Gwyllion Castle, victorious.

What have I done? A memory of Tristan in the throne room flashes through my mind.

“To live eternally, there must be sacrifice … When the future queen gives up her life, she must be bathed in the light of the full moon … Her heart must be stolen from her chest before it stops beating.”

Someone grabs my arms and pulls me back. Tristan. He’s yelling something, but I can’t hear him. I can’t even see him through the shock. Horror blinds me to everything else but the pulsing, glistening heart bathed in silver moonlight.

Nalina rushes past me toward the Fox King, her greatsword swinging. Two King’s Guards stop her before she can get close enough to strike. They fight while I stare at my father, unblinking.

The bloodied guard hastily packs the still-beating heart into a velvet-lined case and closes the lid. The copper box glints in the moonlight before he leaps onto his horse and speeds away, south toward the Spires.

My father begins to writhe in agony as one King’s Guard still holds him up. Father’s eyes bulge in their sockets, and the veins in his neck turn black with death as he screams. The guard loses his grip, and Father falls to his hands and knees, gasping and vomiting up black bile. He digs his fingernails into the dirt as his limbs tremble.