Page 22 of The Fox Heir

He watches me with those storm-gray eyes. “Our hike across Llwyn and through the Spires was a good start. At least you’ve built up some muscle in your legs …” His eyes drift down again. “And lungs.” His eyes move higher, lingering on the swell of my breasts beneath my wool shirt.

I stiffen, instinctively wanting to wrap my red cloak around myself like a shield. But I stop. That urge belongs to a girl I no longer am, a girl trained to be modest, obedient, pleasing. I refuse to be that person. I’m done with being someone I’m not.

Instead, I keep my arms at my sides. Let him look. The secret truth is, I like it when he looks at me that way.

When Tristan’s eyes meet mine, I stare him down, daring. The heat low in my belly smolders a little hotter, despite my hatred for the Wolf.

He turns and heads toward the looming battlement wall surrounding the castle grounds. When we reach it, he pulls a lever and a heavy door reinforced with iron swings open.

Alarm shoots through me as I remember what happened last time we were outside the castle walls.

“We’re going out there?” I ask, trying to mask my fear. “What about the corpse wolves?”

“They mostly stick to the south.” He points west, toward the tree-lined forest. “We’re going that way.” He walks through the heavy doorway and, reluctantly, I follow.

Out beyond the castle’s walls, the world is white. We trudge through the knee-high snow, across a wide valley. In the distance, the dark western forest waits. I scramble after him, the sword thudding against my legs with every step. After the third time I stop to readjust it, Tristan stomps back toward me.

“We’re never going to get to the hunting grounds if you can’t even cross a meadow without pausing.”

“You’re the one who insisted I wear this infernal thing.”

He reaches for my waist. Fingers brush the curve of my hips beneath my red cloak as he adjusts the scabbard on my belt. The shift angles the sword away from my legs. His eyes drift back up to mine.

“There,” he murmurs, his voice low. “That should feel better.”

His hands linger there, beneath my cloak. Heat seeps through the fabric of my clothing, blooming across my skin. I’m hyperaware of his touch. It burns and aches with something forbidden. I shouldn’t feel this way about the Wolf. I hate him.

Still, I hold his gaze longer than is strictly appropriate.

He pulls his hands away and steps back, but I don’t miss the way his fingers stay splayed, like they’ve been burned. Without a word, Tristan turns toward the trees. His boots carve a path through the snow.

As the world lightens around us, my eyes dart to the cloudless sky above.

“If you’re thinking of running, I would reconsider.”

I jump, irritated that the Wolf seems to be able to read minds now. “And why’s that?”

“This area is enchanted to keep most of the storms at bay. But it doesn’t go beyond a few miles’ radius from the castle.” He points to the east, where dark clouds seem to roil above the turning sea.

“And I’m supposed to believe you?” I ask even as my eyes dart to more ominous clouds hovering above the Spires in the south.

He studies me. “I think you already do.”

I roll my eyes. “If there’s an enchantment protecting this place, then why is this crumbling castle continuously battered by storms?”

“I never said it was strong enough to keep out all the winter storms.” Tristan pauses at the tree line, peering through the branches for a path to follow. “Even the strongest, oldest power can’t protect us from the worst the world has to offer.” He gives me a long look. “I assure you, to leave is certain death.” He pushes past a bushy fir and holds the branch aside for me to follow.

Inside the forest, it’s like another world entirely. Pine needles glisten in the rays of sunlight that fight their way past the canopy overhead. Snow makes the branches droop, as if every tree were bowing before a dance. The silence here is less ominous and more … peaceful.

“Who even has power strong enough to enshroud an entire castle in a protective circle?” I ask.

“The fae.”

This stops me in my tracks. “The fae?”

He nods. “It’s why we’re all trapped here, in this ‘crumbling castle’. It’s the only place left that’s safe for us. Everything else was taken or destroyed by your ancestors.”

He doesn’t say it to be a jibe, but I feel a stab of shame anyway, even if there’s not much I can do about the past. “I thought there weren’t many fae left.”