Chapter 33
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
FOX
The way back was dark, his feet barely scraping along the floor to ensure he didn’t trip.
He followed the faint glow of the outer cavern, remembering a similar walk through the dark on his way escaping the resistance base.
He let the bitter laugh that bubbled up his throat flow over.
He’d been running away from Sofia then. And now?
He was walking away, but he wasn’t leaving her.
Fox didn’t stop when he made it back to the main cavern.
For once, Micael didn’t bother to stop him or make any threats.
The man only gave him a sad and knowing nod.
The others were quiet, gathered around the fire, making their own plans or weighing their options.
Would they come up with something better before Sofia flung herself between General Luna and the dragons?
Chalia was where she’d slept the night before, curled tightly with her wings tucked tightly to her body. She was grieving. He didn’t need to sense it or have her tell him to know.
“Hey,” he said, voice soft. He didn’t want to know if dragons startled.
She raised her head slightly in acknowledgement before winding tighter into herself. He found a small place near the top of her wing and sat down, pressing against her tightly. It was the best approximation of a hug he could think of.
“I failed everyone,” she said, voice cracking even in his mind.
“No,” he said firmly. “No one failed. Your family didn’t listen to us, and that’s on them. It wasn’t anything you did or Sofia did.”
“I should have convinced them. There has to be something I could have said.”
“Having been around you long enough—and now having met your mother—I think the stubbornness runs too strongly in both of you.”
Chalia snorted, cold flakes of snow spraying Fox in the face. He smiled despite himself.
“I feel what she wants from us—what she wants to do.”
Fox didn’t need to ask who Chalia was talking about.
“And will you follow her?” he asked, stomach sinking.
“I don’t want to help her die.”
“Neither do I,” he said, letting his head fall against Chalia’s side. She shifted, her wing wrapping over him, protecting him from the biting wind that was blowing down the mountain.
He didn’t know how long Sofia would stew in her anger before she snapped and came out to take Chalia. She’d find him out here. Find him waiting for her. He wouldn’t let her go. But he also sensed that Chalia, despite her desire to protect Sofia, would follow her into this battle if she asked.
What would happen if he ran away with the dragon? Would Chalia agree to simply leave with him? Sofia wouldn’t be able to confront an army without her.
And then what? Where would he run? Into the mountains to hide away until the war was done so he could later crawl out of his hole, the coward he was.
He’d joined the king’s men to save his people.
Now he was beginning to think he’d need to save them from themselves.
If Harlow got ahold of the dragons, they were all doomed.
Either the dragons would turn on him and just kill all the humans, or he’d learn to control them and wipe out the Dragonborn in fear of something they didn’t even want.
Would even Sofia be content once she’d killed Harlow, or would her thirst for vengeance overcome her?
How did Fox become the voice of peace amongst everyone? And did that make him a coward?
No, but running away would. Running away wouldn’t stop this, but he could. If he could get Harlow to see reason—to recognize that the dragons weren’t under some magical spell from Sofia.
Fox hadn’t managed to be a useful spy, but perhaps there was something he could do.
Fox glanced at Chalia. Her wing was still up, protecting him, her eyes meeting his, waiting to see what he would say or do. Something in his mind clicked.
“Chalia,” he said. “What do you say we go on a little trip ourselves?”
“So, you want to die instead of Sofia?” she asked, voice low in his mind. Her eyes narrowed, and he felt her icy breath against his face.
“No,” he said firmly. “We’re going to convince Harlow that the dragons aren’t a threat to the kingdom—that there isn’t some spell Sofia has you under. We’re proof that there isn’t anything magical or controlling about the Dragonborn’s relationship with the dragons.”
Chalia was silent for a moment, eyes searching his own.
“You think this will protect her?”
“Yes,” he said adamantly.
“And they’ll listen to you?”
Fox hesitated. “I don’t know. But we have to try. I have to try before more people die.”
They probably wouldn’t listen, and perhaps this was his own suicide mission. But he had to do something. He refused to sit around being useless any longer. So, he would take a page out of Sofia’s book and act despite his fear.
It’s what Leon would have done.
“Okay,” Chalia said after a beat. “When do we leave?”
“Now,” he said, standing up and brushing the snow from his pants. He ignored the immediate drop in temperature once he stepped away from her. It didn’t matter. He’d be heading back into the rainforest and warmth soon enough.
He went back to the cave first, keeping his footsteps light and quiet. No one even glanced his way as he snatched a sword from the small store of weapons along the wall. They were deep in discussion, heads bowed.
Chalia stood when he returned, stretching her legs and tail, shaking away a layer of snow that had crusted across her scales as she’d been lying there. He strapped the sword to his weapons belt, feeling whole for the first time in a week at its weight.
“Are you ready?” he asked, the question just as much for himself as for her.
She inclined her head in an approximation of a human nod and bent, giving him access to her back above her wings. He’d just grabbed hold of her feathers along her spine when he heard his name, sharp on the wind.
“Fox,” Sofia said, turning around the rocky outcrop, eyes blazing. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Kings,” he said, letting go of Chalia’s feathers and falling onto his ass. Even Chalia twitched, looking guilty. Fox wondered what exactly she was guilty of—trying to run away with Fox or not telling Fox that Sofia was coming? But Sofia was on him, and he didn’t have time to debate that part.
For the first time in a long time, he felt actual fear as she bore down on him, a dagger in her hand. He threw his hands up even as she straddled him, pressing the dagger into his neck.
“The last time we were in this position, you threatened to chop me into pieces.” He didn’t know why the words slipped out. She didn’t look in the mood for joking.
“I should have followed through with that threat.”
“But you’ve had so much fun with my…parts.” He winced as the blade dug in sharper.
“What the fuck were you doing, Fox?”
“Stopping you from doing something worse.”
“What? Do you plan on kidnapping Chalia and hiding her away so I can’t confront Luna?”
“I hardly think I could kidnap a dragon,” he said. He chose not to mention how close he was to trying that exact plan.
“Then where were you going?” she said. Her hair was haloed around her face, lips twisted in a scowl. All he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss her. “Stop looking at me like that.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m about to slit your throat unless you’re honest with me.”
“Threats, threats, oh captor of mine.”
“Please,” she said, her voice suddenly breaking.
“Enough games. Just tell me what you were going to do.” Fox’s grin dropped, and he looked at her, eyes red-rimmed, face pale.
She was wearing another dagger on her belt and a bow on her back.
She’d been coming to take Chalia—coming to leave for her own death.
“I was going to talk to Harlow.”
“So, my plan is a suicide mission, but you can throw yourself at Harlow’s feet? And with Chalia as what? Bait?”
“I have a chance of actually talking Harlow down. If I can convince him that the dragons aren’t a threat—that the Dragonborn aren’t a threat. Chalia and I prove that the humans and dragons can have a relationship outside of some spell he thinks you have over them.”
“Are you seriously so naive that you think he’ll listen to you? Just because you wear that uniform? Or because he knew you as a child? You think Ian didn’t try that at some point? He was almost arrested for treason.”
“You don’t know Harlow like I do.”
“I think I know him plenty. Do you know how many sun cycles I spent writing his letters and transcribing his journals? He tracked the number of Dragonborn that were sent to the labor farms each blink against the number that died. He had me write out the names of every man, woman, or child arrested and killed. Every Dragonborn that died in prison of their wounds. He is drowning in the blood of the Dragonborn.”
“He’s a scared man who thinks the only way to save his people is through cruelty. What makes him any different from who I was two blinks ago? You showed me a different way. Why can’t I show him?”
She was looking at him the same way his mother used to look at him when he asked about faeries and dragons. And it made his eyes burn and his chest tighten.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
She nodded slowly, and he waited, breath held. “Fine. We go to Harlow. You can try to convince him that he shouldn’t go after the dragons. And if that doesn’t work, I slit him from throat to groin.”
He hated the visual, but he took the small concession. “Okay.”
She didn’t move, though the dagger had fallen from her hand and was lying in the snow next to them. “I still think you’re crazy.”
“I’m okay with that if it stops you from going off to kill yourself.”
“I wasn’t going to kill myself.”
He reached up, cupping her chin in his hand. The pad of his thumb ran across her cheek to her lips. “You were. And you were going to make me sit here and just let it happen.”
“I could have won.”