‘But that’s where you’re wrong,’ he says. ‘You’re not a pawn. You’re the queen.’
My heart trips over a beat.
‘Not yet I’m not,’ I mutter.
‘You know, I’ve been sensing some apprehension about your impending sovereignty,’ Fox continues. ‘Tell me, is it the responsibility that frightens you, or the knowledge of just how much time you’ll be forced to spend with my dear brother?’
I exhale deeply.
For weeks, the thought of becoming queen has loomed over me. I’ve tried to ignore it, to focus solely on the task at hand, but every passing day, the coronation creeps closerand my doubt continues to grow, an ever-present thorn in my side.
Perhaps I’ve avoided this conversation for long enough.
‘I can’t help wondering if it’s all some big mistake,’ I say at last.
‘In what way?’ Fox asks.
‘Well, for starters, I don’t know the first thing about ruling a kingdom. I don’t know if I have what it takes.’And I don’t know if it’s what I want, a small voice whispers. I banish it quickly with a little shake of my head. ‘Besides, you said it yourself – the people think me a villain. Many will never accept me as queen, and in truth I can’t blame them. Take what happened back there. My gifts can be … temperamental. Dangerous.’
I think back to the third trial, remembering the screams as my storm rained down upon the earth. For me, power is a double-edged sword, both a blessing and a curse. I have long been condemned for my magic, yet my magic is what won me the crown.
Fox leans back on his elbows, mulling this over.
‘And by the way,’ I add pointedly, ‘if you’re under the impression that I’m really so hung up on Hal, then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.’
He blinks in surprise, and I experience an unexpected spark of satisfaction.
I clear my throat and draw my knees up to my chest. ‘I want you to stop.’
‘Stop what?’
‘Poking around in my past. Just stay out of my head, all right? Promise me.’
Fox runs his tongue over his teeth as he considers this.
‘Do it,’ I say. ‘Or this alliance is over.’
He hesitates, then nods.
At last, I drop my gaze. It lands on the fire, crackling brightly amid the gloom. Something catches my attention. I peer closer, frowning as I reach towards a pile of ash.
‘What the –’ I hold up the charred remains of a button. ‘What is this?’
Fox feigns innocence.
‘Is this from my shirt?’ I demand.
‘What shirt?’
‘Myshirt. The one I was wearing in the Ridge tunnels. The one I washed in the Creek and hung out to dry.’
‘Oh,thatshirt,’ he says. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’
I speak through gritted teeth. ‘Youburnedmy shirt?’
Fox looks unmoved. ‘It was cold. You were shivering. And the firewood was too damp to be of any use, so I improvised. It proved to be excellent kindling. Besides, my clothes suit you better, even if you are wearing them back to front.’
I shake my head incredulously and hurl the button back into the fire. ‘Unbelievable.’
