Page 99 of The Fox Heir

“Yours is unusual in Annwyn. Exotic. Moribund covets unusual shades. I’m sure he’d consider yours a treasure.”

“That’s horrible.”

Something defensive flashes across his face. “Yes. It is horrible. In case you hadn’t noticed, in Annwyn we sometimes have to do horrible things to survive.”

His sharp tone catches me by surprise, but he’s right. Conditions in Annwyn are deplorable because of the unending war. Because of my father.

Tristan tips his head up toward the sky and gathers his composure. “We hate this, you know. Even as we love our kingdom. There’s beauty in this place, but …”

“Also terror.”

He nods.

But I still don’t have all the answers. “What about your sister? You told me she died suddenly.”

He swallows hard. “He killed her when I was twelve.”

I shake my head. Something doesn’t add up. “But that can’t be. I’ve seen your sister many times. She isn’t blond.”

Tristan laughs humorlessly. “Moribund demanded my sister that summer. She had the palest blond hair I’ve ever seen. It was long and thin, like spider silk. It’s why he desired her.” Tristan’s face hardens. “In my hubris, I thought I could trick him. I’d picked the darkest berries I could find and pounded them into a paste. We worked it through her hair until it was the shade of midnight. I thought he wouldn’t want her anymore since her hair was spoiled.” His voice catches.

My heart sinks. “It didn’t work.”

He leans forward and puts his head in his hands. “I insisted on bringing her to the dungeon myself, even though I wasn’t a Wolf yet. I wanted to see Moribund’s face crumble when he saw I’d outsmarted him.” He scoffs at the memory. “At twelve, you think you’re a man. That you’re in control and you know everything there is to know about the world. But you’re still a child in many ways, naïve and hopeful.” He swallows. “Moribund just laughed. I’d forgotten about fae magic. He just turned her hair back to the shade of moonlight. Even terrified, she was so, so beautiful …”

I’m too afraid to speak.

“He killed her. Right in front of me.”

I reach out toward him and place a hand on his arm. “It wasn’t your fault.”

He shrugs my hand off gently. “I should have saved her. It was summer, so we could have survived a journey through the Spires. It was the only time I’d ever considered abandoning Annwyn. Of following the other refugees that hide throughout Llwyn.”

“You couldn’t have known Moribund would demand your sister.”

“I knew he desired blonds. I knew my sister was beautiful. Everyone did.”

I think of the wraith with her long, floating hair. Dark as midnight, just as Tristan said. She’d kept the shade in death. After the torture her blond hair brought, I can’t blame her.

“It was only a matter of time,” he says, as if to himself.

Something in his words makes me pause. “A matter of time? How many women has Moribund taken?”

“I can’t be sure. We’ve lived in Gwyllion a long time.”

That’s not good enough for me. “When does he require payment?”

Tristan stills. “Every season we remain in his castle.”

My eyes widen. “Every season?” I remember the corpses in the dungeon. The nest of blond locks. The snakes of pale braids woven through it. The urge to vomit rises in me. “I’ve lived in this decrepit castle for nearly three months now. That means⁠—”

“Yes,” he whispers. “He’s taken someone since you’ve been here.”

My mouth falls open in horror. “Who? When?”

Tristan looks away. “A girl from the village. On the night of the midwinter full moon.”

“The night of the bonfires? The night you kissed me?” My voice is rising in pitch, but I can’t restrain my horror. “How did he find her?”