He nodded. “It’s one of the oldest symbols left behind. Some say the fox is the one who guided the chosen to safety when the gods fell to war. Others believe it’s the only creature the fire goddess feared. Too clever to be caught and too quick to be burned.”
“What’s it doing here?”
“Watching,” he said simply. “Maybe waiting.”
He closed the distance between us, his hand a warm weight on my shoulder. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, saying, “They say the canyon remembers old powers. People come here to seek answers, but it gives them riddles.”
“What riddles?” I asked.
“Questions that sound like answers. Echoes that feel like your own voice.” He stepped closer, his face solemn. “They say this place, the Singing Stones, is one of the oldest remnants of the gods’ first breath. Before they fractured and fled. Before Vireya scorched the world. Some say the ancestors come here to listen. Or to wait.”
I glanced down at the fox again, its eyes glinting in the canyon light.
“Did they love each other, our parents?” I asked softly.
His eyes fluttered open, a momentary confusion clouding his features. The unexpected question seemed to catch in his throat, and after a beat, a soft, almost reluctant 'Yes' emerged. “In their own way. Duty bounds them, but I remember the way Father looked at Mother when she wasn’t watching. Like he’d die before letting her fall. That kind of love doesn’t need poems. Even if she is terribly strict.”
I smiled a little; the memory softening my chest. “You were always good at sneaking me things when Mother was cross. Do you remember when she locked me out of the library wing?”
Alaric grinned. “You mean the time she found you reading that scandalous romance hidden in a history tome?”
“I was studying!” I protested.
“With characters named after herbs and kissing behind waterfalls?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks. I let out a laugh and immediately buried my face in my hands. “Oh gods. Stop. I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
Alaric chuckled harder, and I peeked at him through my fingers, still blushing.
He laughed,heartilyandgenuinely. “I snuck you pastries that night, remember? Hid them behind the curtains so she wouldn’t see. And that book.”
“You did,” I said warmly. “You always looked out for me.”
“I still do and always will.” He grew quiet again. “Even when you scare me half to death.”
We sat in silence after that. The kind that settles between two people who don’t need to fill every space with sound.
“Do you think…do you think the prince and I will fall in love?”
Alaric didn’t answer right away. “I think you could. But only if he earns it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then don’t pretend you did, Wynnie.”
I looked down at the ground, twiddling my fingers. “And what if I already feel something for someone else?”
He looked at me carefully. “Then be careful. And be honest with yourself first. You’ve always had a soft heart, but that doesn’t mean it’s fragile.”
I looked up at him, searching his face.
“Alaric,” I said, twisting my hands together, “have you ever been in love?”
He raised a brow, smirking. “What, now you’re asking the older brother for romance advice?”
“Be serious,” I pleaded.
Something shifted in his expression. The teasing fell away.
