Page 34 of The Fox Heir

She stills, assessing me. “You don’t understand what you ask.”

“Of course, I understand!” My voice cracks as I throw my arms up in frustration. “For years, I’ve been searching for answers. For years I’ve been tortured by not knowing!” My breath hitches. “I want to move on, but I can’t. I need to know.”

The Dead Queen steps toward me, her fury radiating from her rail-thin body. Her veil trembles as she shouts. “What do you know of torment, Fox Heir? What do you know of need?”

I dig my heels into the soft dirt of the horse stable, refusing to budge. “If you had been there, you would know I understand more than you think. Tell me.”

She shakes her veiled head. “Some knowledge is better left buried. Some truth can destroy you.”

“I’m already destroyed!” I shout. Tears of rage sting my eyes. “Or haven’t you been listening? My entire life is in ruins! All because I was searching for answers. All because I was searching for you!”

Her voice cracks through the air like a whip. “DO NOT ASK ME AGAIN!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Tristan’s hand shift to the hilt of his silver sword. His posture is rigid, muscles tense. He watches us, ready to interfere if this goes too far. But I can’t tell whether he intends to protect his queen, or me.

The horses scream in their stalls, kicking the walls and pounding the straw-covered ground with their hooves. Dust and frost churn in the air. Chaos erupts all around us, but I hardly notice it. My eyes lock on the veil, on the lifeless gaze I know lies beyond it.

I should be terrified in the face of her anger. My limbs tremble, my mind buzzes, and my breath is strangled. But I am not afraid. I’m angry. Furious. Enraged.

I know in my bones that I will kill this undead woman someday.

And in this moment, I know that I am a lot like my grandmother. Even in death.

Chapter 12

My footsteps echo through the stone halls of Gwyllion Castle. My thoughts have always come easier with motion. When I was younger, Hunter teased me for constantly pacing. I wandered the kitchen while I ate and roamed the palace grounds, lost in thought. I’d walk and plan, daydreaming of the Fox Kings and Queens who came before me, wondering how I might one day live up to their name.

Through it all, Hunter would be there. Perched on a stool or a bench, nose in a book, offering comfort with nothing more than his steady presence. He understood that I thought best on my feet. But now he’s gone, and I walk alone. I find it far less comforting.

Gwyllion weighs on me with its unfamiliar customs, bewildering rules, and overwhelming expectations. I walk, passing cracked windows shrouded by snowdrifts and abandoned corridors draped in dusty cobwebs that sway in the cold air.

Mid-step, I falter. My body goes still before my mind can name why.

Music.

Faint and distant, it drifts in and out of earshot, like a phantom song that’s too thin to hold. Someone is singing. The melody is both haunting and wistful, like a lullaby soothing a heartache. I listen, holding my breath.

There it is again, low chimes and a silky voice. The words dissolve before I can catch them.

I turn to see if anyone else hears it, but I’m alone. The halls in this wing of the castle are empty. The windowsills are clouded with grime, and the paintings along the walls are faded with age. My restless wandering has carried me into unfamiliar territory.

My heart beats faster, though not from fear. Curiosity pulls me forward. Without thinking, I follow the path toward the sound. The music grows clearer with each step.

As I draw closer, the voice begins to take shape.

“… When fate calls, the soul must answer.

A heavy burden for dreaming dancers.

None shall know what the Fates foretold

But fae and the kings and queens of old …”

A heavy wooden door stands at the end of the hallway. I press my ear to the ancient wood and close my eyes. The voice and the haunting music are coming from the other side. My hand reaches for the doorknob, but I hesitate. I shouldn’t intrude, yet something in me insists I follow.

I push the door open.

Light spills out, silver and strange, as if the door has opened onto another world. It blinds me, and I lift a hand to shield my eyes. But the moment I step across the threshold, the song dies and the glow fades. The silence is so abrupt it nearly unsteadies me.