Page 115 of The Fox Heir

Next to me, Tristan grins atop his black horse.

I can’t see the queen’s expression behind her veil, but I can feel her dead eyes on me. No doubt she’s wondering if I’m too much of a loose cannon to parade in front of the Fox King. If I’ll give away our biggest secret and show my harnessed powers too soon.

In front of us, the gate begins to rise, and a scout gallops through.

“They’re waiting to parley,” he says to his queen.

We’d assumed as much. Even the Fox King would prefer to have his demands heard before the battle begins.

Behind her veil, the Dead Queen nods. Nalina tightens her grip on her reins and urges her horse forward, ahead of the queen. Tristan takes the queen’s right side, and I hover at her left. I’ve traversed this field many times over the last few months, but it has never felt so wide. My heart pounds in my chest as we get closer to my father.

Morning mist swirls around our horses’ thudding hooves, scattering with each step. I feel very much like a child again, resigned to meeting the displeasure of my father. Only this time, I’m not helpless. This time, I’m not alone.

In front of us, the wall of copper-clad soldiers appears to go on forever in both directions. They’ve built a long, impenetrable wall of men. Their message is received: there will be no escape.

Ahead of them, my father waits, his copper crown gleaming atop his graying auburn hair. His armor, darker bronze than the others, is etched with a snarling fox with teeth sharp enough to cut.

As we near the parley point, our horses pant with excitement. Except for the undead horse, whose exposed ribs don’t hold breathing lungs. Its dead flesh glistens in the morning light, punctuated by splinters of white bone.

Father hasn’t changed in these past few months. I’m not sure what I’d expected from the man who always seemed so immovable, so put-together. I feel like an entirely different person now. I suppose I thought he would be too. But here on the battlefield, he’s still remarkably calm. He’s the perfect, poised Fox King, except for the barely restrained fury behind his eyes.

It must be difficult for him to look at us, his deceitful daughter and his loathed mother-in-law. Two women he tried to dispose of, both united against him now. It feels empowering. Despite the poor odds, I’m glad to be here fighting against him.

“Ah, at last,” my father says as we approach. “I was beginning to suspect you hadn’t seen us coming.”

We halt our horses a few yards away from the Fox King and his guards.

His eyes narrow at the sight of me. “Daughter.”

“Father.” The word tastes bitter on my tongue.

“I never thought I’d see you here, in allegiance with our enemy.” His eyes flicker to Tristan. “The Wolf, however, I did expect.”

Tristan gives him no reaction.

“Then you don’t have much imagination,” I say. “Or faith in my ability to learn the truth, despite your efforts to …” I pause, considering how to word his years of obstruction and his attempts on my life. “Keep me in the dark.”

His mouth pulls into a tight line as he redirects his attention to the queen. “It is polite to remove your veil in the presence of a king.”

“The queen does not remove her veil upon request,” Nalina snaps.

Father gives Nalina a patient smile. “Then how am I to know she is truly the Dead Queen and not some imposter?”

“How dare you—” Nalina begins, her hand shooting to the hilt of her sword. She stops mid-sentence when the Dead Queen raises a gloved hand.

“I will remove my veil for His Majesty.” The queen’s voice is as cold as a tomb.

She releases her horse’s reins and slowly raises the hem of her long, black veil. She pulls it up over her face, allowing the wind to carry the fabric behind her.

The Dead Queen stares down the Fox King with pearlescent, dead eyes. The hole where her nose should be is black with rot. Her torn cheek flesh exposes broken teeth, giving her a permanent, gruesome grin. She raises her pale chin to give him a better look.

“After all, he has seen this face before,” she says, exhaling her words with a death rattle. “In the borderlands, where he left me to die at the teeth of his foxhounds.”

If Father is shocked at the sight of the queen’s true form, he doesn’t show it. His horse backs away, and his guards pale. But not Father. He merely smiles.

“The visage suits you.”

The Dead Queen doesn’t bite. “Why have you brought your armies into my territory?”