Chapter 20
Blaze
The frozen forest has begun to melt.
I can hear the soft patter of water droplets dripping from the trees overhead. One lands in the corner of my eye and slides down my face like a tear. I don’t wipe it away but remain very still, listening to Fox murmuring quietly to Cedar over the crackling fire.
I don’t want him to know I’m awake yet. I don’t wish to speak to him at all.
How long, exactly, has he been spying on me?
With Sifa’s Eye, Fox holds the key to the secrets of the past. But never did I imagine he would use it to steal my secrets, to eavesdrop on my memories, to callously bear witness to some of the most private, most personal moments of my life.
I concentrate on keeping my breathing even.
How dare he? How dare he? What he’s done … it’s an abuse of power. An invasion of my mind. How am I expected to trust somebody who treats my past like their property? Who provokes me into unleashing dangerous magic just to prove a point?
Fury splinters once more, eager for release. I clamp down on it hard, suddenly wary.
I can’t explain what happened. The power humming through my veins had felt so potent. I might’ve found it exhilarating, had it been intentional. Only it wasn’t, and that’s what frightens me. I thought I had my gifts under control, but it appears I was wrong.
Despite the heat from the fire, I’m desperately cold. I shiver, clenching my teeth to stop them from chattering.
Cedar, as if sensing my discomfort, nickers forlornly.
‘I know, I know,’ Fox murmurs. ‘I’m sure she’s fine.’
My eyes snap open. ‘Fine?’
He looks up sharply, meeting my gaze.
‘You goad me into freezing half the forest and you think I’m fine?’ I hiss.
Fox arches a brow. ‘I wasn’t talking about you, Storm Weaver.’
I frown. Who else could he be talking about? Come to think of it, why is he talking to the horse in the first place? Perhaps he’s deranged as well as sadistic.
‘Besides,’ Fox continues, ‘you don’t look fine at all.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ I retort, taking in the blood-stained bandage wrapped round his shoulder and the purplish-blue bruise blooming on his brow – twin to my own.
I wince as my fingers probe at the bulbous lump, remembering the blinding crack as our foreheads collided, remembering the moments before, breathless and burning, caged by his body.
I look away quickly.
This forest is denser than the last. The darkening sky is partially obscured by thick fir trees, and the ground is hard, carpeted with browning needles.
‘Where are we?’ I ask.
‘The Wildlands,’ Fox replies.
I glare at him. ‘I’d worked that out for myself, funnily enough.’
‘A few hours’ south of the previous camp,’ he adds. ‘I didn’t want to waste a day’s travelling.’ A smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. ‘You drooled on my shoulder.’
My cheeks heat. ‘I did not.’
‘Whatever you say, Your Majesty.’
‘I told you already, stop calling me that,’ I growl.
He holds his hands up. ‘All right. Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of that temper of yours. I can think of better ways to go than freezing to death.’
Silence descends. It feels a bit like being doused in cold water. I rake a hand through my curls and nibble at my lower lip.
Fox edges closer, sitting down next to the fire.
‘I … I don’t know what happened back there,’ I confess eventually. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. I never knew I could.’
Fox eyes me thoughtfully for a moment, then pushes a bowl of soup towards me. ‘You should eat.’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘I didn’t ask if you were hungry; I said that you should eat.’
I stare at him. ‘Am I really expected to believe that you’re concerned for my well-being after what you did this morning?’
He shrugs. ‘Believe it. Don’t believe it. That’s not really the issue here.’
I wrinkle my nose as I peer into the bowl. The soup is cold and looks like bog water, and I imagine it tastes much the same.
‘I appreciate it’s not exactly what you’re used to,’ Fox says airily. ‘You may have grown up a glorified prisoner, but at least that prison was a castle with a pastry chef.’
I bristle. Then, with a grim surge of determination, I pick up the spoon.
Fox watches with mild satisfaction as I eat, screwing up my face with every mouthful. ‘Good?’ he asks innocently.
I swallow, shudder, then mumble something incoherent.
He raises an eyebrow. ‘Storm Weaver, why is it that you would spill my blood yet won’t insult my cooking?’
I purse my lips.
‘Well?’
‘I don’t know,’ I say, exasperated. ‘It just seems –’ I search for the right word, recalling Grandmother’s endless lessons in etiquette – ‘impolite.’
Fox laughs, then catches sight of my nettled expression and laughs harder. ‘And slicing my shoulder open doesn’t?’
I drop my gaze, a guilty blush creeping up my cheeks.
‘It’s all right,’ he tells me. ‘I probably deserved it.’
‘For spying on my memories?’ I drive the end of my spoon into the packed earth. ‘Yes, I’d say you did deserve it. In fact, I’d say you got off easy.’
Fox has the decency to look a little sheepish. ‘About that,’ he begins.
I fold my arms expectantly.
‘I told you before, this thing is unpredictable,’ he says, gesturing to the talisman round his neck. ‘Just because it shows me something doesn’t mean I was searching for it.’
‘And I’m supposed to believe that, am I?’ I ask sharply. ‘That the Eye of the Past just happened to reveal my most guarded secret? Or that it gave you a vision of a private conversation that took place between your brother and me purely by chance?’
Fox cracks his neck. ‘It wasn’t just a conversation though, was it?’
My blush deepens while my voice turns icy. ‘Why do you even care?’
‘Who says I do?’ His own voice is perfectly even. Almost toneless.
I laugh, harsh and empty. ‘Of course. How foolish of me to think that you might ever view somebody as anything more than a pawn in whatever game you seem to be playing.’
‘But that’s where you’re wrong,’ he says. ‘You’re not a pawn. You’re the queen.’
My heart trips over a beat.
‘Not yet I’m not,’ I mutter.
‘You know, I’ve been sensing some apprehension about your impending sovereignty,’ Fox continues. ‘Tell me, is it the responsibility that frightens you, or the knowledge of just how much time you’ll be forced to spend with my dear brother?’
I exhale deeply.
For weeks, the thought of becoming queen has loomed over me. I’ve tried to ignore it, to focus solely on the task at hand, but every passing day, the coronation creeps closer and my doubt continues to grow, an ever-present thorn in my side.
Perhaps I’ve avoided this conversation for long enough.
‘I can’t help wondering if it’s all some big mistake,’ I say at last.
‘In what way?’ Fox asks.
‘Well, for starters, I don’t know the first thing about ruling a kingdom.
I don’t know if I have what it takes.’ And I don’t know if it’s what I want, a small voice whispers.
I banish it quickly with a little shake of my head.
‘Besides, you said it yourself – the people think me a villain. Many will never accept me as queen, and in truth I can’t blame them.
Take what happened back there. My gifts can be … temperamental. Dangerous.’
I think back to the third trial, remembering the screams as my storm rained down upon the earth. For me, power is a double-edged sword, both a blessing and a curse. I have long been condemned for my magic, yet my magic is what won me the crown.
Fox leans back on his elbows, mulling this over.
‘And by the way,’ I add pointedly, ‘if you’re under the impression that I’m really so hung up on Hal, then maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.’
He blinks in surprise, and I experience an unexpected spark of satisfaction.
I clear my throat and draw my knees up to my chest. ‘I want you to stop.’
‘Stop what?’
‘Poking around in my past. Just stay out of my head, all right? Promise me.’
Fox runs his tongue over his teeth as he considers this.
‘Do it,’ I say. ‘Or this alliance is over.’
He hesitates, then nods.
At last, I drop my gaze. It lands on the fire, crackling brightly amid the gloom. Something catches my attention. I peer closer, frowning as I reach towards a pile of ash.
‘What the –’ I hold up the charred remains of a button. ‘What is this?’
Fox feigns innocence.
‘Is this from my shirt?’ I demand.
‘What shirt?’
‘My shirt. The one I was wearing in the Ridge tunnels. The one I washed in the Creek and hung out to dry.’
‘Oh, that shirt,’ he says. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’
I speak through gritted teeth. ‘You burned my shirt?’
Fox looks unmoved. ‘It was cold. You were shivering. And the firewood was too damp to be of any use, so I improvised. It proved to be excellent kindling. Besides, my clothes suit you better, even if you are wearing them back to front.’
I shake my head incredulously and hurl the button back into the fire. ‘Unbelievable.’
Fox takes a mint leaf from his pocket, pops it into his mouth and grins at me while he chews.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ he says. ‘Given this morning’s little outburst, you really need to be more careful.
A girl who turns the forest to ice when provoked will have a hard time convincing somebody that she doesn’t possess any magic.
If this plan is going to work – if we’re going to make it to the Lagoon without detection – then you’ll have to find a way to defend yourself that doesn’t involve your water gifts. ’
‘Such as?’
Fox pushes himself to his feet and walks across to Cedar. Puzzled, I follow him, wincing at the stiffness in my muscles.
‘Have a look under there,’ he says, gesturing to the saddle.
So I do, and my eyes widen with horror as I take in the object strapped beneath. Small and silver and curved like a scythe.
‘My dagger,’ I whisper. ‘Why … why do you still have this?’
‘I kept it for you.’
I shake my head slowly. ‘I – I don’t want it. How could I ever want the weapon that killed the Council? It’s twisted.’
There’s a long, drawn-out pause, punctuated by the violent thudding of my heart.
‘I’m …’ Fox clears his throat. ‘I’m sorry about your aunt.’
I dip my chin, slightly taken aback. ‘Aunt Yvainne only ever cared for Flint. I grieve for his loss, and for my grandmother’s, but it’s Queen Hydra I mourn.
She taught me so much. She was always …’ I trail off, my voice unsteady.
‘She was always kind to me. I’ll never be able to repay that kindness.
’ My chest aches, and I will away the cloud of drizzle threatening to form above my head.
‘And if it weren’t for her, King Balen would have the Eye of the Soul. ’
It was Queen Hydra’s final act – opening and closing that portal. Her parting gift to me. It’s why I feel sure that wherever I sent the Eye must be connected to her in some way. The Lagoon is a place of meaning to us both. It’s home. Her former, my future. An everlasting bridge between us.
Fox strokes Cedar’s flank. ‘What Queen Hydra did was honourable, and I have no doubt you’ll find a way to honour her,’ he says.
‘I understand why you don’t want this dagger back, and I don’t blame you.
But while it may be the murder weapon, I’m the murderer.
The Council are dead because of me. It was never my intention, yet their blood is still on my hands, and will be for the rest of my life. It’s my burden to bear, not yours.’
Something flickers in his green eyes, something dark, almost wretched. I watch warily as he unsheathes the dagger from the saddle belt.
‘Look, it belongs to you, whether you want it or not. I took it from you, and now I’m giving it back.
At any rate, you’d be wise to learn how to fight without magic.
’ Fox’s gaze rakes over me, lingering on the leather glove concealing my brandmark.
‘You want to pass as Fidra? Then stop acting like an Etheri. Because pull another stunt like this morning’s and you’ll bring my uncle’s soldiers down on us faster than you can blink. ’
I glance at my feet, conflicted. Perhaps he has a point. We’re supposed to be undercover, after all.
Fox slips the tip of the blade underneath my chin, tilting my face up to look at him. ‘I’ll even teach you how to use it,’ he says.
My mouth parts in surprise. ‘Really?’
He shrugs, then flips the dagger round and holds it out to me, hilt first. ‘Why not? Consider it a peace offering.’
I almost smile. ‘Your peace offering is proposing to fight with me some more?’
He almost smiles back. ‘It’s what you and I do best.’