Page 62 of The Fox Heir

“The wraith!” I’m yelling now. My heart hammers in my chest. I turn to point back toward the woman in white, but she isn’t there. And neither, I realize with a start, is the fog.

A sudden strong wind blows a mix of snow and rain that pelts my face. I look down and see that I’m soaking wet. My red cloak hangs from my neck, heavy as a noose. My feet are bare and white with snow. Only now do I feel the sharp bite of cold against my skin.

A mere three feet ahead of me lies the edge of a cliff.

The sea crashes below, while a tumbling maelstrom thunders overhead. Icy whitecaps crash so far up the shore that white water sprays up into the sky. Lightning flashes overhead. There is no moon in sight. No fog. No ghost.

Just the edge of a cliff and a raging storm.

Tristan pulls me back from the cliff’s edge. “Red!” he yells above the thunder and the crashing sea. “Step back! The cliff isn’t stable!”

But I’m frozen in place, bewildered and afraid. “I don’t understand!” I yell out into the rain, hoping the wraith can hear me.

Tristan yanks me back. “What were you thinking coming out here in a storm? You could have died!” I don’t miss the sharp edge of fear in his voice.

“Tell me you saw her!” I yell, feverishly.

“Who?” He’s still trying to pull me back, away from the cliff’s edge.

“The woman!” I yell, my voice edged with fear. Am I losing my mind? “The one that led me out here!”

His face is pale, his gray eyes wide. Icy rainwater streams over his face as he shakes his head slowly. “I didn’t see a woman.”

Thunder clashes overhead and we both flinch.

“No, not a normal woman.” I growl in frustration. “A … a ghost. Or specter? Something … not human. At least not anymore.”

He stares at me for a long time, his expression unreadable as icy water streams down his face. “I didn’t see anyone. Only you, walking through the storm.”

My body begins to tremble, whether from the cold or the shock, I don’t know. I rub my palms over my eyes. Am I going mad in this awful place?

“How did you even find me out here?” I ask. It sounds accusatory.

“I saw you from my window.”

I don’t need to ask what he was doing staring out his window in the middle of the night. No doubt he couldn’t sleep either.

“I saw you walking through the storm. I recognized your red cloak.” His eyes drift over my cloak as it whips around me in the violent wind and pelting frozen rain. “I followed you.”

“I swear. She was here.” My voice is pitched high, almost hysterical.

He pulls me toward him, and I allow myself to fold into his chest. Why would she do this? Why torture me? Why try to kill me again?

Far below us, waves hammer against the stones scattered along the shore.

Beneath my cloak, my white nightdress is soaking wet. I look down to see it’s translucent, clinging to my body like a sheer second skin. I should be ashamed to have my nakedness on full display out here. But all I feel is afraid. How could I have been so easily fooled? I’m vulnerable in a way I’ve never felt before. What must he think of me, standing on these cliffs of death in nothing more than a nightdress, in the middle of a winter storm?

“Come on,” he says, tucking me under his arm. “You’ll catch your death out here.”

But even as I turn to go with Tristan, the memory of the wraith’s panicked gestures makes me pause. I stop.

“What is it?” Tristan asks.

“I—I don’t know.” I turn back toward the sea and shield my eyes from the pelting rain and snow. The sky is dark with storm clouds, the sea a roiling force below. Lightning flashes, and something makes my breath catch.

Am I seeing things again?

I stand stock still as Tristan tries to pull me back toward the castle.