Page 77 of The Fox Heir

“No.” Hunter shakes his head firmly. “No. This is one thing I will never fully understand.” He turns to the queen, fury distorting his face. “How is this possible? Why are you here?”

“That isn’t a story I wish to tell.”

He huffs. “Well, I didn’t wish to see someone I loved turned into a monster.”

Bang! The sound cuts through the rising tension like the swing of an executioner’s axe.

We all turn to see the throne room doors swing open. Tristan walks across the flagstones, his steps swift and determined. Despite our fight earlier, relief floods me at the sight of him. Maybe he can fix this before everything goes to hell.

“I asked you to wait for me,” Tristan says.

I’m not sure who he’s speaking to until Nalina steps forward. “I did as I was bidden.”

“And a simple warning was too much to muster?”

Nalina gives him a long look. It’s clear she had no intention of bringing him into this meeting. When he reaches us, Tristan kneels before the Dead Queen.

“My Queen, I apologize for the interruption.”

The Dead Queen waves his apology away. “It’s no matter.” When she speaks, her black, desiccated tongue is visible through the remaining flesh of her fetid jaw.

Tristan rises and turns to me. “Are you alright?”

I nod.

“You!”

We all turn to Hunter.

He’s staring at Tristan like he’s going to erupt. “How dare you show your face in front of me again?”

Tristan holds out his hands defensively. “Red followed me into Annwyn willingly. You can ask her yourself.”

Hunter points a finger at Tristan’s face. “You’re a liar. You tricked her, just like you tricked me into believing you were a decent human being!”

Tristan raises an eyebrow. “‘Decent’ is a relative word, I’ve found.”

In a whirl, Hunter raises his father’s fox sword. “Decency isn’t open for interpretation.”

Tristan doesn’t look concerned about the sword in the slightest. “What are you going to do, Hunter? Kill me?”

“I’d sure like to.” Hunter swings.

Tristan jumps out of the way, looking appalled.

“Hunter!” I shout. “I can explain everything, just give me time!”

Hunter swings again. Tristan spins away and draws his own sword from the scabbard tied to his belt. Shadows twist along the silver blade eagerly. “I really don’t want to do this, Hunter.”

“Well, I do.”

The two men swing at each other. Silver clashes. The sound echoes throughout the throne room as the men completely lose their senses in the fight. So much for Hunter feeling weary after his brush with death.

“Stop!” I shout.

Tristan thrusts his blade toward Hunter, silver and shadows cutting through the air. Hunter spins around, out of reach as he angles his sword to jab it toward the Wolf. Tristan avoids it, then jumps over the crate of armor to get closer to his target.

“That’s enough!” I shout.