Page 90 of The Fox Heir

Tristan watches the blade spin between my fingers. Something tells me the tightness in his jaw isn’t just annoyance with my showmanship. His eyes study mine beyond the flashing blade. My skin prickles and I sheath my knife in one swift motion.

He clears his throat. “As you’ve reclaimed your power, we need to measure exactly how much of it you can control.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “A test?”

He sighs, then waves for me to follow him. He leads me out into the early morning mist. Overnight rain has flattened the snow into icy patches. I focus on not slipping as we cross the field and head toward the wall of trees. The forest is wet and the branches hang low, burdened with melting ice. It’s like the world is confused. It’s not sure if it should be melting or freezing this time of year.

For the first time in my life, I wish the world would commit to winter a little longer, because spring means my father’s soldiers can pass through the Spires. It means death is marching toward us and I am nowhere near ready.

The Wolf brings me to what might be a woodland meadow, if it weren’t frozen solid.

“Why aren’t we just practicing in the training yard?” I ask.

“I thought we needed a little distance from the castle. There’s been a lot of distractions lately.”

Hunter, he means. Not that Hunter and I are on the best terms.

Tristan stands in the center of the frozen meadow. “Get into position.”

I ready myself, stepping into a fighting posture that’s become natural to me now.

The Wolf strikes. Smoke bursts from his palms like a flying arrow. I deflect it with a burst of light, pushing it aside without even thinking.

“Good.” Tristan nods, but his face is still grim.

A small twinge of pride rises in me, but he comes at me again before I can think much of it. Darkness engulfs the meadow like a wave on a stormy sea. It crashes down from above so fast, I don’t see it coming.

“Gah!” Shadow engulfs me before I have a chance to ignite any light at all.

“Less good.” The Wolf’s voice cuts through the darkness.

After he summons his darkness back into his palms, I shoot him an irritated glare. My movements are slow from lack of sleep, and my mind is unfocused. I take a deep breath and step into position again.

This time, I attack first. I shoot a bolt of light toward him, but he sidesteps easily. The bolt crashes into one of the many boulders scattered around, leaving a deep dent in the rock. I wave a cloud of rock dust away from my face.

Tristan nods, as if appreciating the newly improved boulder. “Impressive, but your speed is lacking.” Tristan steps back into position.

“I’m trying.” My jaw clenches.

He doesn’t answer. Just nods once, curtly.

The frozen meadow is silent except for the occasional rustle of wind and our blasts of light and shadow. Above, the sky is pale, the sun swallowed by hazy winter clouds.

Pride surges inside me when I manifest a crackling ball of energy. But the energy evaporates into thin air when I realize it’s singeing my shirtsleeves. I wave my arms and pat out the fire, but luckily it didn’t burn my skin.

“You’re not paying attention,” Tristan says.

“I’m doing the best I can,” I snap.

“Well, your best is sloppy. Distracted. Slow.” With the wave of his hand, he paints the world in darkness again.

I trip backward over a root.

Tristan heaves a long sigh and recalls his power.

I stand up, brushing the snow off my backside.

Tristan’s voice is terse. “Do you think we’ve spent all this time just playing games?”