Page 66 of The Fox Heir

Tristan tosses a pile of clothes at me. I hold them up to find my leather pants and a clean tunic. My body aches in protest. I’ve barely stretched in days, let alone practiced with weapons.

“I’ll meet you in the usual place,” Tristan says, his voice even, before he walks out of the room.

I hesitate for a long moment, my fingers curling around the edges of the little green book. Finally, I change into my leathers, but I pause at the door. My eyes linger on the salt-stained book I left on Hunter’s bedside. In a rush, I snatch it up again and tuck it into a pocket sewn into the lining of my cloak. This book has travelled a long way to return to me, and I don’t want to risk losing it again. Something tells me this book is more important than I ever realized.

When I find Tristan at the castle’s entrance, he doesn’t lead me out toward the training yard. Instead, I follow him around the perimeter of the castle. The snow glistens with a thin layer of ice on top, and our feet crunch through with each step. The gray sky suggests there’s more freezing rain and snow to come. It hovers along the edge of the Spires, as if waiting for the right moment to crash in on Gwyllion.

Tristan leads me to a wing of the castle that’s so crumbled it’s practically in ruins. There’s no roof to speak of anymore, and trees grow out of buckled cracks in the slate floor. I stare up at the remains of fortress-like towers and leaning buttresses. Vines scale up their walls, barely holding together what was meant to fall ages ago.

A cold, bitter wind blows. How many more winters does the castle have before its fae magic fails entirely, leaving the rest to crumble to dust?

Tristan leads me around piles of rubble until we come across a thick, wooden door. Its hinges are no longer attached to the door frame. It leans against the entryway at a steep angle, a snowdrift covering half of it. Tristan makes quick work of removing the frozen layer of snow, then pulls the door away from its resting spot. Inside, there’s a dark hallway leading into the forgotten depths of the castle.

I raise an eyebrow at him in question. “Are you sure this is safe?”

“Not at all.” He walks into the corridor, disappearing into the dim interior.

“Lovely.”

I eye the doorway, then follow the Wolf into the dark. I reach inside of me to ignite my orb of light, but Tristan interrupts my concentration.

“There’s no need.”

I’m not sure about that, but I quiet my power in my core, anyway. Darkness, it is.

My eyes widen as I try to make out details in the crumbling corridor. I follow Tristan into a large, open space, like a cavern beneath the ground. Our footsteps echo against the stone.

“What was this place?” I ask. The air is so still, it feels frozen in time.

Next to me, I feel Tristan shrug. “Likely some old ballroom or great hall. It’s hard to know now. Much of this castle was built upon the remains of the castles before it. As far as we know, this might be the fourth or fifth version.”

I blink at the darkness. The shadows are so consuming, all I can make out are different shades of black. I know the ceiling is tall because the shadows darken up above. How wide the room is, I couldn’t guess. The only light comes from the distant doorway that leads outside.

Damp air clings to my skin, thick with the scent of earth.

“Why bring me to a dark pit when you can create shadows yourself?” I ask.

Tristan circles me, his boots scraping softly against the uneven floor. I watch him move gracefully as a panther. “Because today, you’ll be using your light as a weapon.”

“What?” I shake my head. “My light isn’t a weapon, you know that.”

“I know that’s a lie. I’ve seen you use it.”

I throw my hands up into the air. “Those weren’t normal circumstances. It just … happened!”

“Therefore, you can do it.”

“Not intentionally!”

“We shall see about that.”

I wonder how much the Wolf can see in this darkness. I throw out a rude gesture, just to test him.

“You’re wasting time, Red. Ready yourself.”

Jaw tightening, I unclasp my cloak and let it fall to the ground. It thuds with the weight of the book. I step into a defensive stance. My pulse thrums in my ears.

“Call forth your light. What little you can of it, in any case.”