Page 26 of The Fox Heir

I scowl. “If you only knew the day I just had, you’d understand.”

“Oh, I can hazard a guess.” She looks at my face pointedly.

Right. I’m covered in the blood of a moose. I wipe my cheek self-consciously.

“Training with Tristan?” she asks, clearly already knowing the answer.

I draw my mouth into a thin line. “Some might call it that.”

She cocks her head to the side. “And others?”

“Cruel and unusual punishment?”

She nods, but I see the faintest flicker of a smile at the corner of her mouth. “Well, training looks … different on you.”

I glare at her. I’m filthy and uncomfortable. All I want to do is go back to my room and try to forget how Tristan looks at me like he wants to devour me and punish me all at the same time.

I just nod.

She crosses her arms across her chest. “To answer your question, I heard sounds of alarm. So, I figured I’d come down here to check on the damsel in distress.”

“I wasn’t in distress.”

“No? It sure sounded like it from up there.” She nods back toward the cellar stairs.

A growl escapes my throat. “It’s just the damnable fae! They’re everywhere. I’m not used to them sneaking up on me all the time like this.”

Nalina studies me. “No?”

I can feel a blush rising, along with the need to defend myself. “There aren’t any in Llwyn. There haven’t been for generations.”

“That’s because your people killed them all.”

She’s not wrong. Now that I’m here, I’m beginning to question all the stories I’ve been told. Stories of terrible fae. Murderous fae. Fae that stole children from their beds and kept maidens in underground chambers in the hills. How many of those stories were true? Sure, I find these wine cellar bat things annoying, but they hardly seem worth killing in droves. Even if some fae were cruel, how many were just like the cinder fae in the fireplace? All he seems to want is to roll around in the warm ashes at the end of a good fire. He can’t be much more devious than a mouse who nibbles the choicest rounds of cheese.

Nalina just stands in the doorway, staring at me like she’s studying something unusual. Like she thinks I might be losing my grip on reality.

“I’m fine!” I huff. “I just ... wasn’t expecting this.”

“Hm.”

“Look, if you don’t mind, I’d like to go back to my room now. I need to clean up.” I point to my bloodied face.

She doesn’t move. “It’s not normal to see them, you know.”

“Pardon?” I hug the wine jug closer to my chest.

“The fae. Most people can’t see them.”

I blink at her, not sure if I heard her right. “Oh,” is all I can think to say. Yet another thing that makes me odd around here.

Something in my voice must make her take pity on me. “It’s the royal blood. The traces of fae magic in your veins. It’s why you can see them.”

“Like you?”

She scoffs.

I blink at her. “I thought, since you’re a Wolf …”