Page 55 of The Fox Heir

She gives me a sideways grin and snorts. It’s a sound I haven’t heard from her before. I’m struck by how much she’s opened up to me. Just weeks ago, she was distant and fearful. Now, she’s teasing me like an old friend.

“Maybe in the old days,” she shrugs. “There aren’t many eligible young men in Gwyllion anymore, seeing as they’re all in the borderlands.”

I look around the hall at the people who still live in Gwyllion. Men and women too old to fight, children too young, and the wounded. For the first time, I realize why Elisandra is here in Gwyllion instead of at the borderlands. Her clouded eye very likely saved her life.

“You’ll see,” she says, turning back toward the kitchen, her braid swinging against her back. “You’ll learn to love our northern customs.”

I lay the final fork and knife next to a bread plate and fall into step beside her.

The moon hangs high above the crumbling castle. It bathes the frozen world in a silver light. Along the snow-packed paths that wind over the cliffs and down to the pebbled shore, hundreds of candles flicker in iron lanterns. The air is sharp with cold, but the storm clouds have passed for now. The midnight-blue sky is clear, exposing millions of stars. Over the great black sea, the northern lights sway hypnotically.

I grew up in the land of light. Every noble in Llwyn can create it. And yet I’ve never seen such an awe-inspiring display. I can almost see why the ancient people in Annwyn worshiped the Moon Goddess. There’s something in the moon that feels sacred.

Elisandra walks beside me, her breath puffing white in the air. Her cheeks are flushed with excitement. “It’s even grander than last year,” she says, her voice soft with awe. “The whole village must be here.”

As we reach the edge of the cliff, I pull my red cloak tighter against the wind blowing off the sea. Below us, a celebration unfolds in a riot of sound and light. Bonfires burn brightly against the snow-crusted beach. Their flames crackle and spit sparks into the cold night. Fiddles and drums carry over the wind, and laughter mingles with the crash of waves against the ice-lined shore. It’s like I’m seeing a whole new side of Gwyllion, one reserved just for the people of Annwyn.

I glance sideways at Elisandra. Her eyes glow with reflected firelight as she drinks in the sight. Her guarded edges are gone. Tonight, she looks young and carefree.

“Come on,” she says, grabbing my hand and tugging me toward the shore.

I lift the hem of my wool dress and follow her, stepping over icy mounds of hard-packed snow. The cold bites through my boots as we step onto the beach, but no one else seems to care. People dance in wild circles around the fires, boots kicking up snow and pebbles as they spin to the music. Others gather in small groups, passing bottles of spiced liquor and trading stories. Children chase each other and throw snowballs, their laughter high and bright.

Near one of the largest fires, I spot the greenhouse caretaker, Tabitha. We’ve given each other a wide berth since our initial meeting. Tabitha doesn’t seem the type to warm up to anyone, certainly not a Fox. But here, she seems different. Her lined face is soft with affection as she watches a young boy. Her grandson, I presume. He tosses icy pebbles into the sea, running away each time a wave crashes to shore.

Tabitha must sense my gaze. Her eyes flicker to meet mine, and a cloud passes over her face. She whistles sharply, and her grandson runs back over to her. She gathers him like a mother hen, ushering him back into the protective crowd, away from me.

“Elisandra!” a warm voice calls.

We turn to find a young man leaning on a cane a few steps away. His cheeks are rosy, probably from a combination of cold and the liquor everyone keeps passing around.

Next to me, Elisandra’s grip tightens on my arm. At first, I think she’s wary, but I quickly see that I’m mistaken. She has the unmistakable pallor of a girl who just learned a handsome young man knows her name.

The man’s windswept hair flutters across his forehead, and he stutters like he’s gathering courage. “I—uh, I wondered if you’d like to dance?”

Elisandra stills. She looks from me to the young man and back again. She wants to, it’s clear across her face. She just needs a gentle push.

“Well, don’t keep him waiting,” I say, extracting her grip from my elbow. “I don’t need you to protect me all evening.”

Her face melts with relief. “You’re sure?”

I smile. “Go. Have fun.”

When the man holds out a hand for her to take, I’m mildly afraid she’s going to faint, but she doesn’t. She takes his hand as a wide grin spreads across her face. He leads her toward the nearest bonfire, where several couples twirl and laugh with the music. He has a pronounced limp, and Elisandra does most of the dancing, but neither of them seems to mind.

My heart fills at the sight. I’m happy for her.

I watch them for a while before I leave to walk through the crowd. Most people avoid my eyes. They turn away or walk to another fire when I pass. It’s clear I’m not welcome. I’m still an outsider. I settle near the farthest bonfire to watch the festivities. It’s a calm sort of loneliness, at least.

Someone approaches from the darkened beach. “May I speak with you?”

I spin to find Nalina standing right behind me, tall as a mountain. Her tight braid has come undone with the wind, and golden strands fly around her scarred face. She doesn’t bother to brush them away.

I nod curtly.

“I assume you’re not the dancing type,” she says.

“Nor you?”