I arch a brow. ‘Only people?’
He shrugs, stabbing a carrot. ‘People can be cruel, and inherently selfish. But not animals. A wild animal kills because it’s in their nature. A person kills because they choose to. For them, it’s instinctive. For us, it’s personal.’
I frown, chewing slowly. ‘But … but they say you’re a hunter. That you hunt magical creatures for sport.’
‘Yes, they do,’ Fox agrees. ‘They also say I’m a slaver. That I snatch innocents and condemn them to a life of servitude.’
‘And you’re telling me you don’t do either of these things?’
‘You seem unconvinced.’
‘Can you blame me?’
‘No,’ he says. ‘I can’t.’
I study his face as I swirl the contents of my cup. ‘Just because the Cleaving was an accident doesn’t mean you haven’t done other deplorable things.’
‘True. And believe me, I’ve donemanydeplorable things.’ He smirks a little. ‘But I have nothing to gain from refuting these claims, especially since I had a large hand in concocting them. All the best lies have an element of truth. It made concealing what I was really doing so much easier.’
‘Which was?’ I eye him sceptically.
‘I did hunt magical creatures,’ he admits, spearing a potato. ‘But not to kill them, or turn their bodies into trophies.’
‘Then why?’
‘Because I wanted to study them. Most of the books you’ve read about the Otherlands are outdated. Countless native species have gone undiscovered for years, and not just animals, but plants, too. A great number are deadly, butmany possess healing qualities that outrival anything I could forage here. Like lachrymortis, for instance.’
‘What’s lachrymortis?’ I ask.
‘According to legend, there was once a Magi warrior who died bravely in battle,’ Fox says. ‘Yet he was favoured by the Gods, and as his wife wept over his body, from her spilled tears grew an ancient tree. It was said that if you drank from its veins, it could heal any wound. It was destroyed during the war, but I possess the two remaining vials of elixir.’
‘Oh.’ I blink, taken aback. Then my eyes narrow once more. ‘And … and what about the slaving? How do you explain that?’
Fox takes a deep breath. ‘Ever since my grandfather won the war, the people of the Otherlands have lived in fear of the slave ships that arrive every year to take their children.’
I grimace, thinking of Elva.
‘It’s true that my own ship was used to transport slaves,’ he continues. ‘But I wasn’ttakingthem, I was … returning them.’
I stare at him.
‘I knew the routes the Ostacrian slavers followed,’ he continues. ‘It wasn’t difficult to hijack their ships. My crew and I styled ourselves as pirates. We took everything. Sometimes we’d even take the slavers themselves and abandon them on a distant isle with no means of getting home. Other times …’ He trails off, reaching across the table to brush his fingers against mine. I catch a glimpse of blood-slicked decks, the sound of desperate pleas before the men are tossed overboard, their screams swallowed by thesea as the waiting sirens drag them under. ‘Well, as you can see, they got what they deserved.’
My lips part in surprise. ‘And the slaves?’
‘We took them back to the Otherlands. Left them in boats just off the shore.’
‘How often did you do this?’
‘As often as I could, but never enough to be noticeable,’ says Fox. ‘A handful of alleged shipwrecks could slip under the radar, but not dozens. I had to be careful. I couldn’t save them all, but I could save some.’ He catches sight of my incredulous expression and shrugs a shoulder. ‘I told you before, I abhor injustice. To enslave another person, to take away their freedom – there is nothing more unjust, more immoral, than that.’
Slowly, I set down my knife and fork and fold my arms, my mind spinning. Fox watches me, his green eyes scanning my face.
Eventually, I mutter, ‘I canneverfigure you out.’
Which makes him smile.
We finish our food, scraping up every mouthful of gooseberry pie. I even save my last piece of rabbit for Scout.
