Page 29 of The Fox Heir

“What are you doing in here?”

I spin toward the voice. Tristan stands in the doorway, his expression outraged. His dark hair is disheveled, and his chest heaves beneath a loose white shirt that clings to his skin. The hem hangs untucked over black trousers.

He storms toward me. “You are never to come in here. Do you understand?” His voice is tight, seething.

I meet his glare without flinching. “Don’t tell me what I can or can’t do.”

“You think this is a game, Red?” His tone cuts, sharp with anger. “You’re being reckless. This isn’t Caerwen!”

“You think I don’t know that?” My chest is heaving beneath my nightclothes. How dare he lecture me? As if I don’t know I’m an entire kingdom away from Llwyn and the Fox Court. As if I’m not reminded every second of every day that I’m stuck here, in this awful, freezing place.

His hand closes around my wrist, and he drags me out of the room, slamming the door behind us. The sound echoes through the corridor.

I twist free of his grip and whirl to face him. “You don’t have to manhandle me!”

“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just stay out of places you don’t belong.”

“I don’t belong anywhere!” The words slip out before I can stop them, but it’s too late to quiet the storm raging inside me now. “Isn’t that the point? I’m not a Wolf. I’m not even really a Fox anymore. I’m nothing.” I glare at him, daring him to tell me I’m wrong.

He glares back, gray eyes dark and threatening. His chest heaves with each furious breath, but he doesn’t protest. He doesn’t defend himself or his people for making me feel entirely unwelcome in Annwyn. The look in his eyes tells me he knows I’m right.

He turns and braces his forearms against the thick wooden door, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles are white. He lowers his head against them and shuts his eyes. His shoulders are tense, and they rise and fall with each seething breath. Every line of his body radiates contained fury, like a storm caught inside a cage. He doesn’t answer me. He just stands there with his back to me, rigid.

When he finally speaks, his voice is low and even. “How did you find this room?”

Something warns me not to show all my cards. The wraith is trying to tell me something, and I suspect Tristan doesn’t want me to know what it is.

“I was exploring.”

Finally, he whirls around to look at me. He knows I’m lying. His eyes are dark with fury and mistrust. But there’s something more there. Something familiar and deeply unexpected: grief. Heart-wrenching, soul-tearing grief. I should know. I’ve experienced it myself.

For a moment, we’re too close. The corridor feels small with his body so close to mine. And yet, I don’t step back.

His gaze drops to my mouth, lingering there for only a heartbeat. His eyes snap back up to mine. “Go back to your room. The castle isn’t safe to ‘explore’ after dark.”

I purse my lips but decide not to argue with him. I turn to leave.

He calls after me. “And don’t come back here again.”

I give him a heated glare over my shoulder.

“Please,” he says in a less demanding tone. Something in that word pulls me in a way I wish it didn’t.

I make no promises, but I find my way back across the darkened castle to my room. And, just as I suspected, there’s a new note waiting for me when I return. It sits on my bedcovers, bathed in moonlight.

“Go now!”

My eyes dart around the darkened room, but I know I won’t find anyone hiding in the shadows.

Who is leaving these messages? The wraith seems an unlikely suspect. A being who floats through walls seems hardly capable of holding a quill. Nalina? She’s ominous and hates me enough to stoop to intimidation. But she knows it’s certain death for me to leave Gwyllion Castle in the middle of winter. Are fae literate?

There’s more here than meets the eye. On top of that, I can’t help but wonder why the wraith brought me to that dilapidated room. It could’ve been a set-up. Maybe she knew it would upset Tristan to find me there. But why?

A chill runs down my spine as I remember the fire that crossed Tristan’s eyes. Perhaps the wraith was trying to issue a warning. Maybe the Wolf is not what he seems.

Chapter 11

The throne room looks different today. Daylight streams through the tall, narrow windows along the eastern wall. Dust drifts between the beams like tiny sprites.