The Baron grins. ‘By winning your freedom,’ he says. ‘You stole my wolf, thus robbing me of an evening’s entertainment. My offer is this – take his place in my fighting pit.’
I suck in a breath, feeling the whole world shift beneath my feet. ‘What?’
Fox tilts his head to the side, mulling it over.
‘No,’ I hiss.
He ignores me. I scowl and stamp down hard on Garrick’s foot. We should end this. Now. Escape while we still havethe chance. Cover be damned – I’ll turn the lot of them to ice statues if I have to, then leave them locked up in the stalls to melt.
Fox shakes his head, as if he knows what I’m planning. I glare furiously at him. What other choice do we have?
Deep inside, my power stirs, hungry and impatient, longing to be released. Only … only if I were to dispense with the Baron and his henchmen, how long would it take for word to spread? For rumours to be picked up on the breeze and carried back to King Balen?
I chew the inside of my cheek.
Fox is right. In order to maintain our ruse, we can’t use our magic. The Baron hasn’t once questioned our being Fidra, nor does he seem to care where we come from. What he wants is a show. And if there’s one thing Fox knows how to do – it’s perform.
‘Deal,’ he says.
I let out a low groan.
The Baron claps his hands, jubilant. ‘Until tonight, then.’ He nods at Garrick, who begins dragging me towards the manor.
‘Stop!’ Fox yells. ‘What’re you doing?’
‘You didn’t think I’d just let her go, did you?’ The Baron snorts. ‘It’s not only your freedom you’re fighting for, boy.’
Fox clenches his jaw. Neither of us thought to clarify the terms of the deal. He goes rigid, as if struck by a second realization. I watch, puzzled, as his expression clears and he turns to glance beseechingly at the Baron. ‘At least let me say goodbye.’
The Baron’s lip curls. ‘How touching. Very well, then.’
Garrick gives me a shove and I stumble forward into Fox’s arms as the rest of the men guffaw. For a moment he holds me close. I breathe in the scent of him, heart thudding in my chest, before he lowers his mouth to my ear and murmurs, ‘Take the Eye.’
Understanding washes over me. Of course. In my panic, I’d almost forgotten about the Eye of the Past.
I hesitate, then hook my arms round Fox’s neck, cursing the heat flaring in my cheeks. He leans down a little, resting his brow against mine. My fingers find the clasp of the chain beneath his collar, and after some fumbling, I feel it come loose. Fox reaches up to encircle my wrists, and my hands skim the solid planes of his chest as he guides them back down between us before carefully extracting the talisman from my fist.
My breath hitches as he pulls me closer, then, slowly, slides his palm down the length of my spine and slips the talisman into my back pocket.
I swallow hard. My skin burns and burns, but I don’t pull away.
‘All right,’ a voice drawls. ‘Time’s up, lovebirds.’
Fox brushes his lips to my forehead. ‘Whatever happens,’ he whispers, ‘promise me you won’t reveal yourself.’
Seconds later we’re wrenched apart. I yelp in protest as Garrick tosses me roughly over his shoulder.
‘Wait!’ Fox calls as the hunters begin herding him away. ‘Who is my opponent?’
The Baron’s expression is one of pure glee. ‘Tonight, the thief will battle the bear.’
35
Flint
It must’ve been a quick death, for I don’t feel a thing. I wonder briefly whether I’ll be made whole again in the afterlife, or if I’ll be half-blindandhave an axe sticking out of my face.
I suppose there’s only one way to find out.
