Page 86 of The Fox Heir

“I need you to come with me!” Nalina’s unmistakable voice answers.

“Don’t care!”

The banging continues.

“Go away!” I yell.

“No.”

I put the open book over my face and scream into the pages.

My door bursts open and the Wolf from hell walks in, her boots stomping against the floor with the gravitas of a woman on a mission. She strides toward me without a word, her expression grim as she reaches down and rips the book out of my hands.

“Let’s go.”

“Maybe you could try asking nicely.” I say through a grimace.

She grabs my arm in an iron grip. “Or I could just drag you.”

“I can walk myself.” I yank away from her with a sharp twist. “You know, manners would do you a world of good.”

She steps back, her lips pressed together in a thin line. “We don’t worry so much about niceties in Annwyn, Fox. On account of the short lifespans.”

I roll my eyes but don’t argue. She doesn’t expect me to, and frankly, I’m too tired to waste breath on it.

“Come with me.” She doesn’t wait for my reply as she turns on her heel and walks out of the room. I pull my boots on hastily, then grab my red cloak before I step into the hall.

Nalina leads me through the castle. We head toward the castle’s grand entrance, where the cold air presses in from outside. As we step through the massive doors, I feel the sharp bite of winter. The snow falls fast, like a thousand needles. The world beyond the castle walls seems to vanish in a blizzard.

“Where are we going?” I shout over the howling wind.

“The village!” she calls back, her voice barely audible over the shriek of the storm.

I’ve never been to the village. I always thought it was best to keep my distance since most of the locals hate me.

I jog to keep up with Nalina’s long strides as she leads me beyond the castle’s stone wall. She doesn’t seem bothered by the storm, while I’m struggling to shield my eyes. The wind keeps trying to blow the hood of my cloak back, but I hold it tight to protect my face from the stinging snow.

By the time we reach the village, I can’t feel my fingers or my toes. The small thatched houses are barely visible through the swirling white. Their windows glow faintly from lit fires within. I wonder how anyone would rather survive these storms in thatched-roof houses instead of the fortress just beyond the wall. Then I remember who lives in the castle: the dungeon fae and the Dead Queen. And me, the Fox Heir.

That’s why they keep away. And I can’t say that I blame them.

Nalina walks up to one of the houses and pushes the door open. She turns back to me, her face hard as stone.

“Stop dawdling.”

I’m hardly dawdling. My legs burn with the effort to keep up with her and my face stings from the biting wind. I say nothing, just step inside and shake off the snow that’s built up on my shoulders. Nalina shuts the door firmly behind her and I take a look around. The home is small, no more than three rooms. A crackling fire blazes in the central space.

Before I can register who else is here, a young woman runs up to me and throws her arms around my shoulders.

“Thank the old gods, Sienna. I’m so glad you’re here.” I’d never realized just how thin Elisandra was. Now that her arms are wrapped around me, I see she’s as delicate as a bird.

“Elisandra, what’s going on?”

She pulls away, shooting Nalina a wary glance. “I asked her to bring you. We need your help.” She steps aside to reveal the rest of the room.

A middle-aged man leans heavily on a cane in front of the hearth. At his feet, on a bed of quilts, there’s a boy. His face is deathly pale, and he appears to be asleep. With a start, I recognize him. He’s Tabitha’s grandson.

The old woman walks in from the next room, carrying a wet cloth. When she notices me, she freezes mid-step.