Fox
FOX
AGE 12
On the third day of his curse, the prince was too hungry to hide any longer. He flew into the village to look for food. But every stand he stopped at was as unfriendly as the servants, yelling and threatening him until he left. When the village girl with eyes like the sky saw him and took pity on him, he couldn’t see the kindness in her expression. He flew away even as she offered him bread and hid in the trees, hungry and alone once more.
-The Raven Prince by Emilio Laurn
F ox had been up since sunrise, huddled in his room, hiding from the cold as well as his parents. The shift in the season sent icy gusts down the halls despite the perpetually burning fires in every room, as if the walls couldn’t fight the cold. His stomach was beginning to growl and he knew he’d have to venture down to the kitchens, if only to ask for food to be sent to his room. And still, he sat, not doing much of anything except watching the flames in his hearth dance with the winds whistling down from the chimney.
This had become his new normal since his brother had left for basic training three blinks prior. His father had at least given up on pretending to train him, but the constant picking at every single thing did continued. He was slumping; his writing was too feminine; he was looking thin; he was putting on too much weight—as if any of that mattered when was probably going to end up locked in a back room crunching numbers where his father could pretend he didn’t exist. At least his father had been busy with the military recently. He and his mother still had dinner most days, but his father rarely joined them, locked away in his office.
Despite promises made, Leon hadn’t written to him at all and was left wondering what his life was like in the barracks with the other junior trainees. His brother wouldn’t be allowed leave until the end of the cold season, two blinks from now. Two more blinks of avoiding his father’s attention and hoping his brother was safe wherever he was training. At least the resistance had been quiet these past few blinks and the only outbreak of violence had been in the drowned quarter when some fishermen were caught stealing the king’s stores. It had ended in three buildings burning down—a feat that had thought impossible in that constantly sodden corner of the city—but only a small regiment had been sent out to quell the rage and none of the king’s men had been injured.
He also knew the peace couldn’t last forever. He knew his brother would always win against the dragon-filth rebels in a fair fight. had grown up watching him train and fight, and he knew his brother outmatched half the king’s scouts and specialists as it was. But the Dragonborn rarely fought fair.
When the ache of his stomach turned to nausea, he finally moved, wrapping himself in his cloak before he left. He went toward the back of the house, hoping to avoid the main staircase where his mother tended to pace, looking worried about one thing or another. It also meant he avoided passing by his father’s office. If he was home, he’d likely be locked in there.
“.”
The sound of his name on his father’s lips made his blood run cold. He schooled his features before he turned, giving his father a blank, slightly disinterested look.
“Yes, Father,” he said, voice cool.
“I was going to give your mother the good news first, but since you’re here...”
waited, face unmoving despite wanting to snap that perhaps his father shouldn’t act so surprised to find him directly outside his own rooms.
“Leon has been promoted to high trainee three blinks early. He’ll be visiting at the next dark moons.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched and he could have sworn his father’s eyes flickered to the movement with satisfaction.
“Did the chief commander write to tell you? I’m amazed he has time to communicate such small accomplishments.”
His father’s smile went feral.
“Chief Commander Harlow did send a congratulatory message, but it was Leon who wrote me himself.”
His stomach dropped and he knew his father had read the disappointment and hurt in his face, no matter how hard he tried to keep his expression neutral.
“Has your brother told you yet? He expressed in his letter last week that he knew the promotion was likely coming.”
“Leon hasn’t written me.”
“I’m sure he’s busy,” his father said with such warmth that might have mistaken it for genuine concern had it come from anyone else.
The triumph in his father’s eyes made his face flush.
“I assume you haven’t seen any letters from him addressed to me?” asked. “They’d come to your office first, of course.”
“Son, I’d send any letter relevant to you to your rooms immediately.”
It wasn’t the first time that had had the passing thought his father might be intercepting the letters from Leon. But he’d thought he was being paranoid. This would be a new type of cruelty.
“Every letter from Leon is relevant to me, particularly if they have my name on them. Unless you’re having trouble reading.”
His father stepped forward, voice taking on a sharp edge as he leaned over . “I don’t know what you’re implying, but I’d suggest you show some respect to your father.”
“I show respect to those who earn it,” he snapped, before he could think better of the words. It had been too long since he had been faced with his father’s wrath and forced to bite his tongue.
The hit wasn’t unexpected and only stumbled back a step as the knuckles on his father’s hand snapped against his cheekbone. didn’t make a sound. Before he could savor the surprise in his father’s eyes, his father’s cane snapped up and cracked against his ribs. He doubled over, the next intake of air sending a wave of pain through his side, but his father’s hand grabbed his hair before he could crumple, pulling him upright.
“Don’t you ever talk to me that way again or I’ll lock you in the king’s prison myself and see how you fare. I don’t need to earn your respect. I am your father and the king’s general. And you are nothing.”
He let go and fell to his knees, his scalp burning. By the time he caught his breath, the ache in his side subsiding to a dull throb, his father was gone and the hall was empty.
Hunger forgotten, flew down the back stairs and out the servants’ door leading to the back yards and stables. For the first time in his life, he understood what stories meant when they said someone’s vision had gone red. The blood roaring through his veins seemed to be coloring the world, a red haze making it difficult to see and think.
He might later try to convince himself he bumped into the stableboy on accident, too distracted with his rage. But in that moment, he knew he’d seen him and he’d chosen not to veer away or stop. His shoulder hit the other boy’s, sending the bucket he was holding falling to the ground with a soft thud and a splatter. The donkey shit nearly covered the boy, but ’s shoes were covered, too.
“Are you blind or stupid?”
He sneered down at the boy. He was around his own age and he’d seen him around the yards before often getting into fights with the other workers.
“You ran into me,” the boy said, practically growling as he stood up, brushing the manure off his clothes, but doing little more than smearing it into the fabric. smiled.
“Stupid then, to dare talk to your superiors like that.”
“You ain’t my superior.”
The boy moved first, bringing back his fist. dodged it easily and moved to parry. His own blow went wide, scraping against the boy’s ear. A kick to ’s shin sent him stumbling back and the boy used the moment to his advantage, grabbing around the waist and bringing him to the ground with a scream.
forgot the small amount of training he had, his fists flailing with little strategy beyond making contact. The stableboy’s style was no less refined and they made barely any damage before they were being pulled up by the collars of their tunics.
’s face was bloody and he licked at his lip as he looked at the man who’d pulled them apart. He saw the man’s mouth open, as if to berate them both at the same moment he seemed to recognize who was. He dropped the neck of his tunic where he’d been holding him and quickly gave a short bow.
“Young Master Ocon, my deepest apologies. I’ll have young Will here whipped and fired immediately for his insolence.”
The boy across from him went pale and he opened his mouth, likely to argue.
“That won’t be necessary. The boy was too weak to do much more than pinch me.”
“Surely he must be punished, sir.”
only shrugged, straightening his tunic and assessing the blood and mud smeared across it. He’d have plenty of bruises tomorrow—mostly from the boy. “Get him back to work and stop wasting my time.”
With one last sneer toward the man, he turned and marched back toward the manor. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but he’d need to change his shirt before his mother saw the mess.