Page 58 of The Fox Heir

A sudden realization hits me. “It’s warm.”

At first, I thought the temperature change was because we left the biting wind behind, but even so, it’s definitely warmer in here than seems normal. It’s the middle of winter. The pools should be frozen solid, but they’re not.

“It’s the springs,” Tristan says. “Heat rises from deep inside the ground. It keeps everything in here the same temperature all year.”

“It’s amazing …”

Tristan smiles to himself as he helps me step over a wide tidepool.

“Do you bring many people here?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He casts me a sideways glance. “No. Just you.”

Finally, the passage widens, opening into a hidden chamber. It feels vast, the ceiling arching high above us. At the center of the chamber, a still pool of water gleams like polished glass. The sight of it is enough to steal my breath.

“I’m going to blow out the candle,” Tristan says softly.

“Wait, what?” The thought of being in pitch darkness sends a shot of terror up my spine. I grew up in a palace where almost everyone could summon their own light. I’ve rarely been in true darkness. Even then, I’d always had the safety of knowing I could summon light in an instant. That isn’t the case anymore.

“You can trust me,” he says.

I’m not sure “trust” is the right word for what I feel for the Wolf, but I’m in too deep to turn around now. My heart stumbles against my ribs, and I nod.

He looks me straight in the eye to make sure he has my consent. Then, in a single puff, he blows out the candle. For a moment, nothing but blackness surrounds us. I blink, trying to adjust my eyes, but my vision swims with ghostly spots of light. I think it’s a trick of my eyes until I realize the lights aren’t fading.

They’re growing stronger.

All around us, hundreds of tiny lights speckle the cave walls, glowing in shades of blue, purple, pink, and yellow. They stretch across the ceiling, glittering softly against the dark stone. Even the the pool glows with luminous sea stars that cling to the rocks beneath the water’s surface.

I draw a breath. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper.

Tristan releases my hand and climbs onto a large rock. His face grows tight for a moment, and I know his ribs ache, but he won’t say as much. He pats the space next to him. I sit, grateful that my red cloak protects me from the chill of the damp stone. His gaze drifts across the glowing cave, his face lit by the light of a hundred sea stars. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet.

“I used to come here when I was a kid. When I needed somewhere to hide away from the world.”

Something about the way he says it makes my chest ache. I glance at him through the dim light, searching the hard lines of his face. This is a side of him I’ve never seen before. He’s being vulnerable, letting down his guard.

“You hid here?”

He nods once, his jaw tight. “It was the only place where I felt safe. Like the outside world couldn’t touch me.”

The sound of dripping water echoes around us. He’s right. Here, in the heart of the cave, the rest of the world feels impossibly far away. There’s no danger, no responsibilities, only the two of us.

I shift closer, keenly aware of his thigh pressed against mine. “Why did you bring me here, Tristan?”

For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. His eyes catch the light, and I see that he’s struggling to come up with an honest answer.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe I wanted to share something with you. Something that no one else knows.”

The words hang between us, sweet and intimate.

“I know what it’s like to lose someone,” he says suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. “My sister, Isadora. She was twenty when she died.”

I inhale sharply. “What happened?”

He hesitates before speaking, his shoulders tightening. “It was sudden.”

My heart cracks then. I had no idea that he knew what loss felt like. That he’s suffered grief so deep that it fractures your entire life in two: before and after.