Chapter 37
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
FOX
F ox was all too happy to see Ian among Sergeant Melin’s ranks. Speaking to his brother’s old friend was a distraction from all the anxiety and the grief. He couldn’t quite shake the look Sofia had given him when she’d seen him standing beside his father. The shape of her scars on her back haunted him, along with the look of pride on his father’s face.
A scream clawed at his throat, lashing against his clenched teeth.
“I should have visited your mother,” Ian said, a gleam of guilt written across his face.
“It wasn’t your responsibility to comfort my mother.”
“She thought she’d lost both her sons,” he said, and his voice cracked, surprising them both. “And you know the general wasn’t there to help.”
The muscles in Fox’s jaw twitched at the thought of his mother alone. “Was my father truly out looking for me?”
“You’re surprised?”
“You know it was Leon my father cared for. I’m just surprised he spent the energy.”
“The chief commander ordered it. You were the third soldier to go missing while scouting and the highest ranked. He wouldn’t let your father write you off.”
Fox let his blank mask slip for a moment as he rolled his eyes. “I guess I should be grateful,” he said.
Ian clapped a hand on Fox’s shoulder. “From what I hear, you rescued yourself from the Dragonborn, and helped us sniff out their hovel. You should be proud.”
Fox forced himself to smile. “And all because I didn’t listen to you when you told me to let the scouts go out.”
Ian smiled back. “I don’t know whether to be glad you ignored me, or angry that it got you into all of this.”
Fox didn’t know what he was feeling either. Perhaps after a good meal and a bath he’d have a better grasp on why—after cycles of working toward this goal—he was left feeling so numb having achieved it.
The resistance was crumbling. The people that had killed his brother would pay in blood.
And Sofia had been caught in the crossfire, as he knew she always would be. She was a rebel, just like the rest. She had Dereyan blood on her hands.
But he couldn’t shake the smile she’d given him after they’d seen the dragon, or the moment of grief they’d shared after the tribe was massacred. She’d care for him—saved his life multiple times.
But did it make him throwing away his entire life for her worth it?
* * *
Fox broke away from the procession after they passed through the gates of Suvi. No one questioned the bag he possessed, the sergeant too busy in a discussion with his junior to remember the Dragonborn captive had had a bag. Fox would get the feather and anything else he needed from it before bringing it to the prison. After two weeks held captive in the rainforest by heathens, he wouldn’t be blamed for forgetting something so mundane.
The unit and their captive took the main road left toward the prison on the edge of the military quarter, but Fox turned right. Technically, the chief commander’s home was only a few blocks west of the prison, but he wanted a moment away from the others as he walked. What would he say when he got there? Today wasn’t the day he wanted to confront the chief commander about the dragons and he wasn’t even sure he wanted to tell him about Sofia. The man definitely didn’t need to know that Fox couldn’t shake the scent of her from his mind or the taste of her from his tongue.
Fox shook those thoughts off quickly, wondering if the chief commander would notice the smell of liquor on his breath if he stopped by a cantina before making it to the compound. His empty purse made the decision for him and gave him a new sense of guilt at using his badge to obtain free food. He thought of the pounds of dried goods and meat the platoon had dragged away from the rebel’s cenote and wondered where it would end up. Likely in the military’s store rooms where they already housed more rations than they needed. It wouldn’t end up in the slums where it belonged.
He berated himself for the thought and stalked faster through the throngs of people on the narrow street. This wasn’t the worst of the slums, mostly thanks to its proximity to the main road, but even here he could see the separation from the military and royal quarters. The road was rough, missing stones creating divots that made the passage of any carts difficult, if not impossible. And when he let his eyes wander too far from the path directly ahead, he noticed the children tucked away in the shadowed alleys, wire-thin and faces streaked with mud.
By the time he’d made it to the front of the chief commander’s manor, and the main military compound sprawled beside it, the sun had long disappeared beneath the horizon, leaving the air chilled. But nothing as cold as the forest after dusk. As much as he missed the sweet smell of the night blooms, the scent of stone, dust, and sweat was a familiar bouquet. His shoulders relaxed at last with the familiarity of home.
He didn’t enter through the compound gates, instead walking directly up and knocking on the chief commander’s door. The unit would have already sent a messenger with the news of his return.
His suspicions were confirmed when Don Hernandez opened the door with a wide smile.
“The chief commander is waiting for you in the study, Junior Sergeant Ocon.” The words were formal, but the man wrapped his hand around Fox’s arm for a moment longer than necessary as Fox stepped over the threshold and into the home. Don had been working for the chief commander since Fox could remember, and the white haired man still looked at him like he was a child.
“Thank you, Don.”
“He suggested you likely would want refreshments. Tea is already waiting for you, and Ms. Garcia will have food delivered shortly.”
Fox’s stomach gave a sharp growl and he saw Don’s eyes glint with joy. He smiled and thanked him again before turning to where he knew the study sat.
The housekeeper hadn’t lied. A tray with tea was laid out in the sitting area next to the study’s fire, a few snacks already waiting for him. The chief commander was at his desk, writing furiously across his paper, but he stopped when Fox stepped into the room.
“Junior Sergeant Ocon,” he said, the relief and warmth one might have excepted in his father present here, at last. “Fox.”
It was all the chief commander said before pulling Fox into an embrace he only saved for these moments in private. Both his wives had died before being able to produce the son he’d always wanted, so he treated Fox as his own.
“I’m glad to see you in one piece,” he said, pushing Fox away to examine him as a mother might. “You look atrocious.”
Fox winced, running his fingers through his blond hair. At least, he attempted to, but his fingers got caught in the knots almost immediately and he was left feeling like an idiot as he tried to pry his hand away.
“It’s been a journey.”
There was a knock on the door before Chief Commander Harlow could respond, and a maid walked in with a tray weighed down by every delicacy Fox had dreamed of over the past weeks. He could smell the spices of the pork and the fresh-baked bread, already sliced and ready to eat. There was also a pile of dark berries, grown and imported over the sea each blink.
“Let’s discuss your journey while you eat. You look half-crazed with hunger.”
“Yes, sir,” Fox said, jumping at the opportunity. Another soldier might have shown restraint in front of the chief commander, but Fox dove in with fervor. He ate three slices of bread and half the pork before he finally took a breath.
Fox’s story of the last two weeks’ events didn’t take him long. Skipping over the majority of the details, he explained his capture and escape, as well as his travels back to Suvi. He didn’t even mention Sofia’s part in the adventures past the initial lure and the chief commander asked no questions about her. He seemed much more interested in the general interrogations he went through along with his treatment during captivity.
When he made it back to his run-in with the scout, he dropped the boy’s name as promised, and he took the opportunity to ask the chief commander for information on the operation.
“I haven’t gone down to see the prisoners personally, but we captured thirteen in total. Five were killed in the raid, but I’m sure the rest will provide plenty of information.” He took a sip from his tea cup, an air of quiet contentment about him. “My hope is that this was the last dying breath of the resistance. There will be holdouts, for sure, among the city and Dragonborn, but I believe we’ve cut off the head, as it were.”
Fox hated the stone that settled in his stomach as he wondered about the numbers. Who was captured and who had been killed? He didn’t want to care.
Chief Commander Harlow drew him from his thoughts with a hand on his knee. A brief touch, but warm from the tea he’d been sipping.
“Your brother would be proud of all you’ve accomplished.”
Fox’s throat bobbed in a sudden attempt to swallow. “Of course, sir.”
“I know we never talked about it when you joined, but I also know that this hadn’t been your plan originally. I still remember the little boy who spent every waking moment in the library reading and avoiding the training field.”
“I was young?—”
“Perhaps. But I also know you didn’t decide to join until Leon was killed in the attack all those cycles ago. It’s been an honor to watch you serve. I always knew you’d do great things. You have a head for strategy.”
Fox gave a crooked smile. “I suppose reading was good for some things.”
The chief commander gave him a long look before nodding. “Yes. I believe you’re right.” He stood suddenly, stepping around his desk without a word and pulling a small stack of books from the drawer. “It was with that in mind that I had these compiled from my personal library.”
Fox gave a small start when the chief commander placed the small stack into his hands. There were four books in total, bound in leather of varying ages. He could just make out the faded script on the first cover: War Strategies in Fighting Against Faith.
“Sir?”
“I feel you may find these helpful for moving forward.”
Fox was confused at the direction their conversation had taken.
“They aren’t required reading, of course,” the chief commander continued.
“Required?” Fox asked, a finger running over the smooth texture of the top book’s cover.
“For your promotion.”
Fox looked up, startled, face all too open.
The chief commander only smiled.
“The ceremony will be later, once we’ve had time to deal with the resistance prisoners. But I’ve already started the paperwork,” he waved back toward his desk and what he’d been writing out before, “Junior Major Ocon.”
* * *
Fox left the chief commander’s house with the books tucked under his arm and permission for time off to visit his family before returning to his duties. Their manor was just a few doors down; their family being in the military for the past five generations had its perks.
It would have been kind of his father to remind the sergeant to send a messenger to Mother. Fox should have known he wouldn’t. When Ms. Salves opened the front door, she let out a scream, face going white at the sight of him. He didn’t bother with words of reassurance because a few moments later, he saw Mother come out from the drawing room, a letter opener clutched in her hands like a sword.
“I know I’m a bit late to dinner, but you don’t need to stab me.”
The snarky words fell from his tongue before he could stop himself, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t even sure she heard him. The moment she saw his face, she dropped the letter opener and ran toward him with a speed impressive in the slippers she wore.
Her hands fluttered around his face and shoulders, torn between wanting to pull him into a hug and assuring herself he was real. He made the choice for her, gripping her hands and pulling them to his face.
“I’m okay,” he said. “I’m back.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
She didn’t speak and the tears traced down her face even as he felt his own at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. He should have been embarrassed, but he didn’t care, not when she was looking up at him like he’d been raised from the dead.
“Have you eaten? Ms. Salves, put together supper for Fox!”
He smiled, a sense of comfort in her worrying about something so mundane as his hunger.
“I already ate. I had to stop at Chief Commander Harlow’s to debrief.”
She stepped back, lips pinching down in a frown and he knew the interrogation was about to begin.
“Where have you been this entire time? Are you okay? You look horrible and you smell like the slums. We thought you were dead. Your father told me you were dead.” She let out a sob, biting on her knuckle for a second as she breathed. “I knew you weren’t. I could feel you were still alive. I prayed to the dead kings to protect you.”
Fox gripped her shoulders, gentle but firm, as she swayed.
“I’m okay. I can explain what happened tomorrow, but I haven’t had a proper bath in weeks and right now all I want to do is sleep.”
She nodded, placing a hand on his cheek once more, as if checking to ensure he was still real. His chest tightened and the tears burning in his eyes fell again, hot on his cheeks. He wondered if they were making tracks through the dirt caked there from his days in the forest.
* * *
The bath took longer than he wanted, the energy draining from his body at the same pace as the dirt from his skin. But it took three rounds of filling and emptying the tub before the water finally ran clean. His skin was red and raw by the time he was done, in part from scrubbing and in part from the sun. The tint of his skin was tanner than normal after days out in the forest, darker than even his stint as a scout when he spent most his time napping under the shade of a tree.
Now he was a junior major.
He hadn’t even told Mother yet, the idea not quite settled into his mind as reality. Nothing felt real at the moment, even the brush of the soft fabric of his pajamas across his skin. It was the softest thing he’d felt in weeks. Except for…
No .
When he came out of his en suite bathroom, his mother was sitting on the small couch in the corner, mind lost to something else.
“Mother,” he said. The words were soft, but she still flinched, head whipping over to him. He realized as her eyes swept over him that she didn’t quite believe this was real either. Was she expecting him to disappear into the bathroom and never come out, a figment of her grief?
“I’m sorry, I can…I just—” she moved as if to leave, but her body just jerked, eyes darting around, lost.
“You can stay,” Fox said, saving her from her own thoughts. “I want you to stay. I think it will help me sleep.”
He wasn’t sure how true the words were. A part of him wanted to sit alone and forget the last few weeks. But the words had an immediate effect on his mother and her shoulders slumped with relief as she fell back onto the couch.
In the end, he wasn’t necessarily annoyed at her presence in his room. It was almost a comfort to open his eyes and look over at her in the dark and remind himself that this wasn’t a dream. He was back. He was home.
And Sofia is here, trapped in a cell because of you.
He fell asleep with this thought spiraling through his mind, her voice an echo he couldn’t tune out.
This is your fault.