Page 104 of The Fox Heir

Tristan speaks carefully. “Only royal blood can see fae. Kings and queens who have the echoes of old magic in their veins. Nobility may give you the power to control light or shadows, but to see the fae … That’s an entirely different thing.”

I’m a royal, so that makes sense. But Hunter? I turn to stare at him, trying to understand.

“What does this mean?” I ask hesitantly. My heart hums in my chest, almost as if I’m afraid.

“Come with me,” Tristan says as he walks back in the direction of Gwyllion Castle.

“But what does it mean?” I call after him again.

Tristan turns to look back toward us. There’s something frightening in the hard lines of his face. “It means Hunter is the Heir to the North.”

Chapter 32

We find the Dead Queen in the tower of moths.

She’s standing with her back to us as she looks out the window toward the Spires to the south. Nalina is at her side, her face grave. She eyes us warily as we enter, but the queen doesn’t turn to acknowledge us.

Tristan kneels. “My queen, we have news.”

Nalina places a casual hand on the hilt of her sword. “Where have you been?” She shoots me an assessing glance. “I sent for you.”

Tristan stands. “My apologies. We were in the ruins, then the forest.”

Nalina raises an eyebrow. “Doing what exactly?”

Tristan bristles. “I don’t answer to you, Nalina.”

Nalina looks like she bit something sour, but she doesn’t press him further. The Dead Queen still hasn’t turned from the window. Next to me, I feel Hunter stiffen as he notices the rafters above us. Dead moths climb over each other, fluttering their wings and perching on old wooden beams.

“That’s … unnatural,” he whispers next to me.

Unnatural, yes. But I don’t miss the edge of awe in his voice. He’s learning, as I did, that nothing is as it seems in Annwyn. Inside the pocket of my red cloak, my fingers grip the little green book with the silver moth on the cover. So many moths, so many secrets.

Slowly, the Dead Queen raises one skeletal arm and points out the window, toward the mountains. She isn’t wearing her long black gloves. Her fingers are little more than bone, her arm made of mottled flesh, like the corpse she is. I squint out the window. From this height, I can see what captured her attention.

Smoke rises from beyond the Spires, a surefire warning of the armies approaching.

“We know,” Tristan says. “The forest is responding. The animals and fae are fleeing.”

“They are wise to do so.” The Dead Queen’s voice rattles in her throat. The sound sends a shiver down my spine.

Next to me, Hunter squares his shoulders, as if anticipating a fight. “We can’t run from them.”

Slowly, the queen shakes her head and turns toward us. “No, we cannot.”

“Why didn’t you send your legion of dead monsters to attack them?” Hunter’s voice is accusatory.

“I have.”

Hunter’s mouth snaps closed.

“If it were so easy to destroy the Fox Army, don’t you think we’d have won this war long ago?” The Dead Queen turns only halfway toward us. “My corpse wolves can’t keep legions out of Annwyn. They’re being slaughtered by the hundreds. I can’t spare any more.”

My eyes dart to Hunter. He opens his mouth to argue, and I shake my head. Thankfully, he restrains himself.

“So, what do we do?” I ask.

The queen turns toward Nalina. “We’ve been making plans in your absence.”