Page 91 of The Fox Heir

Shadows shoot past me. I stumble backward, then struggle to get my bearings again before another attack. The shadow swirls, taunting me.

His voice cuts through the darkness. “That this isn’t serious?” A gust of dark wind blows my hair and cloak out behind me, like the gale of a tempest. “That people aren’t going to die if you can’t pull yourself together?” The entire forest turns to night in the blink of an eye.

“Stop!” I throw a ball of light at him. It bounces off his shoulder and dissolves in the frozen snow with a pathetic sizzle. My breath is coming in wild, angry bursts that turn to mist in the cool air. “I get it! Okay? I’m a disappointment!”

Tristan sucks in a breath and turns his back to me for a beat. Snow crunches beneath his boots. “Red …”

“I’m not like you!” The words tumble out of me, hot and angry. “But I’m trying.”

He looks back at me, jaw tight, eyes unreadable. His dark hair falls over his face, damp with sweat and melting snow. “I don’t want you to be like me.”

“That’s not how it looks from here.”

Something in his expression cracks, just a little. “I’m hard on you because if you can’t fight, Sienna, you die.”

“I know that.” My voice breaks.

He says nothing. Just watches me. The wind shifts, catching a strand of hair across my cheek.

“Maybe I’m not as strong as you think. Maybe I can’t be the weapon you need me to be.”

His eyes narrow. And then, before I can blink, he steps forward, grabs my wrist, and pulls me toward him until we are chest-to-chest. My breath catches. His eyes are fierce as he stares down at me.

“Don’t ever say that again,” he says, his voice low. “You don’t get to give up on yourself. Not while I’m still here.”

I stare up at him, pulse hammering. He’s close enough that I can see the flecks of darkness in his gray irises. Suddenly, I’m very aware of his body so close to mine.

“I’m not giving up,” I say. “I’m just tired of disappointing you.”

His grip on my wrist softens, thumb brushing over my pulse. His voice is quieter now, almost apologetic. “You don’t disappoint me. You scare me.”

I blink, taken aback. “Why?”

“Because I care about you.” He swallows. “More than I should. And every time you’re near, I can’t help but think about what it would cost me to lose you.”

The air between us shifts, thin as frost. I don’t know if I want to kiss him or shove him away. He’s both infuriating and intoxicating. Gently, I pull my wrist from his grasp. My hands are shaking. I don’t look at him when I speak.

“I know what’s at stake. Nalina told me.”

Tristan freezes. “What did you say?”

I look back toward him. “I know about the fae in the dungeon. And I know how much you need to defeat my father. You once told me he would destroy the world. That wasn’t hyperbole, was it?”

Tristan’s face has gone pale. “No.”

A sudden, violent need to prove myself rises within me. Deep down, I know who I am. Who I’ve always been. I’m a Fox. I don’t run and hide. I don’t let other people fight my battles for me. I have as much at stake as Tristan does.

I blast a wave of light at him with renewed energy. He blocks it with a wall of shadow, but I strike again. And again. Darkness seems to seep from every pore of his skin as he counters my attacks. We fight with all our pent-up frustration and anger. With each new attack, he circles closer, like a predator ensnaring its prey.

I stop my onslaught when his face is mere inches from mine.

His voice is a rough whisper. “For the record, I never said you were a disappointment.”

I push him backward with my hands, knocking him off balance. He regains his stance in an instant, much to my irritation.

“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face.” I swing a fist at him, momentarily forgetting about light and shadows. He dodges my swing, but it just makes the fire inside me flare hotter.

I shoot crackling bolts of light at him. My breath is heavy and ragged, my chest an infuriating mix of anger and passion.