Page 89 of The Fox Heir

The boy blinks up at me. “Why is the Fox Heir here?”

The man lets out a relieved laugh. “It’s nothing to worry about. You’re safe now. She helped you.” He pats the boy’s hand with a tenderness that makes my chest ache.

Elisandra looks at me with something like pride. “She helped us.”

The praise makes my stomach clench. I rise to my feet and step back. A wave of lightheadedness washes over me, but it passes in an instant. The power that once hummed so fiercely within me now curls back into my core like a drowsy cat.

Behind me, a door creaks open. Tabitha steps through the doorway. Her wild white hair is tangled around her face, and her eyes are wide with shock.

“Jona?” she breathes, her voice a mixture of disbelief and fear.

The boy turns toward her. His face lights up with recognition. “Grandma.”

The old woman stumbles forward, dropping to her knees beside him. She gathers him in her arms, pressing him against her chest. Tears flood down her weathered face as she holds him tight, rocking back and forth.

I should be overjoyed. I’ve done a remarkable thing, saving this boy’s life. But as I look around the room at the joy and love these people share, I feel out of place. After Grandmother disappeared, my family never loved me the way these people love each other. If I had fallen from a roof as a child, my father would have left me to die—and been glad for it.

I don’t belong here. As I watch these people cry and clutch each other with a desperate love I will never understand, I see that I’ve already faded into the background. And that’s fine by me.

I grab my damp cloak off the hook and throw it over my shoulders. Nalina doesn’t make a move to follow me, but I can feel her eyes on the back of my neck as I slip out the door. The winter storm is cold and unrelenting as I walk back to the castle alone.

Chapter 28

When I meet Tristan at the castle entrance at dawn, I yawn and stretch my limbs, willing myself to wake up.

“Nice to see you’re bored with me already.”

I stifle my yawn. “No sleep.”

“Yeah.” He pushes himself up from where he’s leaning against the cool stone wall. “Sleep and I haven’t been well-acquainted lately either.” His tone is light, but I sense a deeper meaning behind his words.

After I healed Jona, my power bloomed in my chest and stayed. It answers at the briefest call now, no longer timid or reluctant. It’s back, and my mind can’t stop thinking about the possibilities. What can I do with this power, now that it’s returned? How strong can I become?

How will I use it to kill the Fox King?

“What unique torture do you have planned for me today?” I ask as I bend to touch my toes.

“We’re practicing with power again.”

I look up, lifting an eyebrow.

“You can do it.”

I don’t budge.

He crosses his arms over his broad chest. “Why does your face say you don’t believe me?”

“After last time⁠—”

“Forget last time, we’re starting fresh.”

I wonder if, by “forget,” he means my accusation of jealousy … or the look he gave me when he asked if I still love Hunter. The tension is too much to bear.

I huff in mock confusion. “And here I thought you were only interested in arrows, swords, and other pointy things.”

A reluctant smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Yes, well, I do love pointy things.”

“I know.” I unsheathe my knife and give it a fancy little twirl for good measure.