Page 125 of The Fox Heir

Moribund chuckles. It’s a low, sick sound that seems to echo from everywhere. He runs his fingers through my hair again, slower this time.

My stomach sinks. It’s like Tristan said, Nalina’s methods may be unconventional, but she believes in them wholeheartedly. I’m nothing more than a bargaining chip to her. I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches. My wrists bleed where the shackles bite deeper with every movement. I fix Nalina with a look of pure, seething hatred.

“You think this will save them?” I whisper. “You think he will save them?”

For just a moment, she hesitates. She looks toward the nest, but her eyes slide right over Moribund, who’s only inches away from her face.

Suddenly, my fury clears enough for me to remember one important detail: Nalina doesn’t have fae blood. She can’t see Moribund. Only I can.

She steps back, then turns away from me. “I’ve come to make good on our deal.” She calls out in the direction of the burned nest, where she assumes he’s sitting. She unsheathes her sword and holds it flat against her palms in a peaceful gesture. “I’m not here to harm you.”

At my left shoulder, Moribund’s wide black eyes watch her with interest. He laughs lightly, and she turns to face the direction of his voice. She lifts her chin in defiance.

“An honest human?” Moribund asks. “Oh, how unexpected.” He releases my hair reluctantly and crawls up into his flattened ash nest. The burned hair crunches under his weight as he wiggles down into it, like a child cuddling into his bedcovers. He narrows his eyes to slits, and his voice grows dark and menacing. “I needs to rebuild my nest since that sneaky fox-bug ruined everything.”

Nalina pivots to face the sound of his voice again.

The fae recovers his composure in an instant and frowns dramatically. “But I already have a deal with your Dead Queen. Does she know you’re here?” He asks his question with such delight, he must already know the answer.

“It’s time to trade,” Nalina presses on. “The Fox Heir for your help.”

Moribund chuckles. “The humans want fae help now, do they? The last deal I made with your queen was to keep me away, to keep me out of sight.” His voice drops low, haunting as a nightmare. “Your girlie bugs with the clean hair, for my castle.”

“You can keep that deal,” Nalina says. “In addition to this new one.”

“No!” I struggle against my chains, but Nalina doesn’t even look at me as I pull. “The Dead Queen would not approve of this, Nalina. You’re her Wolf. You serve her! She’ll see this as betrayal.”

Finally, Nalina snaps her head toward me. “I cannot serve Annwyn if everyone who lives here is dead!”

Moribund cackles like he’s enjoying this game. His black eyes move over me, inch-by-inch. My skin crawls.

“I do wants her hair.” His voice quivers. This fae is positively unhinged.

If Nalina is as disturbed as I am, she doesn’t show it. “I know,” she says. “You can have it.”

He looks up at her hungrily.

“For a price.” Nalina’s voice is sharp as a blade.

Moribund begins to salivate.

“I grew up hearing tales of your power,” she says. “Of the terror you used to wreak over this land.”

He smiles and nods, pleased. It seems the old stories were true—the fae adore flattery. “Yes, I am quite powerful.”

“Could you kill an entire army?”

“Easily.” He bats his eyes. “You are all but bugs for the squishing.”

Nalina’s face hardens. “Then help us save your castle. Protect Gwyllion and the people who live here. Kill our attackers, and you can have the Fox’s hair.”

The fae laughs gleefully. He crawls back out of his revolting nest on all fours and scurries back up to me. Slowly, he stands. A tremor runs across his thin skin in anticipation of having me. He presses the tip of one black fingernail to my navel. Inch by inch, he trails it up my body, between my breasts, and pauses at the hollow of my clavicle.

He leans in toward my ear, and the smell of rot makes me gag. I swallow hard.

“That is where I will slice you, I thinks.” He sniffs the hair on my neck with a long, languid breath. “I can’t wait to see if fox bugs look different on the inside. If that sweet blood tastes finer than the others.” He lets out a low, hungry rumble from deep in his chest. Beneath his tattered loincloth, something moves.

“But first, I must taste your succulent parts.” Drool drips down his chin as his eyes roam my body.