Page 98 of The Fox Heir

“It is,” I whisper. “She’s been visiting me all winter. She’s the woman who led me to the sacred temple that first night. Who led me to the cliffs.” I swallow. “To the room on the far side of the castle that night. It was her room, wasn’t it?”

His face pales. He shakes his head again, his dark hair falling into his eyes. “I don’t understand. Isadora is⁠—”

“Dead. I know.”

Tristan stares at me for a long time, barely breathing.

I shift to face him. “The first time I saw her, we were outside the castle grounds, when the corpse wolves chased us to the gates.”

Tristan is so still, he could be mistaken for part of the stone column we’re sitting on.

“She led me to the fae in the dungeon.”

“You went down there?!” His eyes flash and he grabs my face in both hands. “Red, promise me, never go down there.”

I’ve never seen Tristan lose his composure before. His panic makes me realize just how dangerous the fae in the dungeon really is. I may not fully understand everything yet, but two things are clear: First, the fae in the dungeon is a bigger problem than I realized. And, second, Tristan fears losing me like he lost his sister.

I draw his hands down and hold them. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “I’m okay.”

He’s breathing heavily now and sweat glistens on his brow. “No, Red. You don’t understand. You can’t possibly …”

“Then help me understand.” I squeeze his hands. “All of it. What is Isadora trying to tell me?”

Tristan looks down at our entwined hands and lets out a shaky breath. “Okay.” He nods. “I’ll tell you.” He closes his eyes before squaring his shoulders. His face is wan again and his eyes are haunted.

I hate that I did this to him.

“This castle, Gwyllion, it’s the only safe place we have now. Further north, we can’t survive the winter. And to the south …” He doesn’t need to finish that thought. To the south is my father. To the south are the territories stolen by Llwyn.

He takes a deep breath. “But this castle has a price.”

“Nalina mentioned that.”

He groans and mutters to himself. “Of course she did.”

“But I want to hear it from you.” I nod, encouraging him to continue.

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “For centuries, it was abandoned. Inhabited only by the fae in the dungeon. Moribund. He’s … revolting.” Tristan closes his eyes in disgust. “He considers this castle on loan until we claim territory back from the Fox King. It’s taken longer than expected.”

“What do you mean, ‘on loan’?”

“Moribund requires payment.” He swallows hard. “Beauty and youth.”

Ice runs through my veins, freezing me on the spot. “The hair …”

Tristan nods. “He collects it.”

“Not just any hair though.”

“No.” Tristan shakes his head slowly. “He has a preference.”

“For blonds.”

“Yes.” His face is guarded, like he’s hiding something. It makes me suspicious. I’m missing something important. Something he doesn’t want me to know.

I tilt my head. “But Moribund said he wants my hair. It’s auburn.”

Tristan’s eyes drift back over to me. They travel over my coppery hair, which I’ve tied into a thick braid that hangs over one shoulder. His eyes flicker up to meet mine.