Page 51 of The Fox Heir

Along the one remaining wall, shattered stained glass still clings stubbornly to a windowpane. What’s left of it glitters in shades of green, brown, and yellow. A tree bathed in sunlight, perhaps. I’d guess it represents some portion of the Tree God myth. Now the image is fractured, broken into shards that catch the moonlight.

Tristan walks beside me, silent as a shadow. For the past two weeks, he’s kept his distance. Even during our dawn trainings, he barely speaks unless it’s to correct my form. I wonder if the queen warned him too. Still, his gaze prickles my skin when he thinks I’m not looking.

He refuses to touch me now. There’s no brush of knuckles when we spar, no firm grip at my waist to adjust my posture, no steadying hand when I slip in the icy training yard. The physical denial hums between us, taut and hot. I hate it, and I crave it all the same.

“Why have you brought me here?” I ask, my breath turning into white mist in the cold.

“It’s time to put what you’ve learned to the test.” Tristan kicks aside rubble, clearing a smooth area in the center of the temple. “If you’re going to kill the Fox King, you’ll need to practice the killing part.”

I cross my arms in front of my chest. “A giant moose wasn’t enough?”

He gives me a dark smirk. “As much as I enjoyed watching you murder a moose, that was nothing compared to the Fox King.”

I tsk. “Pity. I’d assumed he’d bleed the same.”

“For one thing, your father has an army.”

I kick a pebble, and it skitters across the ground. The sound echoes through the stone temple. “And you think I’m useless against him if I can’t access my powers.” It’s not a question.

“Yet.” His voice is confident, firm. “You can’t access your powers yet.”

“How are you so sure I will again?”

Tristan stops clearing away rubble and turns to face me. “Because I’ve seen you fight, Red. You don’t quit. In the end, that’s who wins.”

The words hang heavy, stirring something fierce in me. I take a deep breath. “I’ve tried, Tristan. I don’t know how to bring my powers back.”

Tristan shrugs as he continues clearing away frost-speckled rubble. “The queen believes you just need focus and control.”

“Easy for her to say.”

Above us, moonlight spills into the temple. The ceiling fell apart at least a century ago, leaving the star-strewn sky visible from our place at the white marble altar. I clear off the snow to find it’s cracked, and the corners have crumbled away. But I can still make out faint details. The smooth surface was decorated with stars and moon phases before the gold foil washed away with centuries of rain.

This temple must have been beautiful once. I can feel the sacred weight of this space. Feel what it used to represent before people left and nature reclaimed it.

Tristan looks through the shattered stained-glass tree at the crescent moon that shines in the distance. “Your powers of healing and light are strong. Stronger, perhaps, than anyone else in your bloodline. It will come back. I’m sure of it.”

I wish I were as certain of myself.

My fingers trail over the gold moon inlays on the marble altar. “And how do you expect me to practice murder here tonight?”

His eyes dart around the darkened temple. “With a creature that’s been spotted here lately. It’s been terrorizing the villagers. Stealing their livestock.”

A shiver runs up my spine. The shadows between the broken pillars feel darker now, more ominous. “What is it?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Nothing natural. A creature bred between fae and animal, most likely.”

My skin prickles. “That’s possible?”

His mouth pinches in a thin line. “It shouldn’t be.” The way he says it makes me think he’s already preparing for the worst.

“But?”

“But the fae sometimes act in unfathomable ways.” He grimaces. “Whether this creature was made intentionally or by accident, it’s hard to know.”

I nod, trying to dispel the image of the dungeon fae from my mind … and his morbid fetish for blond women. The memory lingers, like the taste of bile at the back of my throat.

“Then again …” Tristan pauses.