Chapter 7
The rescue mission is successful, but complicated.
We find all four men and the two missing children trapped in the home of the Yule Witch. The “Witch” turns out not to be a witch at all, but some kind of monstrous shapeshifter. When the inevitable brawl breaks out, I don’t hesitate to throw myself into the middle of it.
When it was over, Odessa and Kastian set off toward the manor while Daemon and Alix guided the weary children down the opposite path to reunite them with their worried grandfather. So it falls to me, Fox, and Jett to wrangle the sleigh and horses back home through the snowy forest.
I’m relegated to the back of the sleigh while Fox claims the reins and Jett takes the seat beside him. I flex my fingers, and warmth blooms around us like an invisible cloak, melting snowflakes before they can touch our skin.
“Thanks, Aurelia. After Dyaspora, I was hoping to never see snow again.” Jett says with a contented sigh, settling back into the now warm sleigh. “And thanks for coming to help,” he adds, seemingly as an afterthought. “Good thing you’ve been doing all that fight training or we’d all be dead.”
“Not a problem,” I reply happily.
My gaze shifts to Fox, expecting him to say…something. I did just save all their lives, but only because he’s spent over a year teaching me how.
Fox is dubiously silent.
His shoulders rise toward his ears as he hunches forward, his spine a rigid line beneath his coat. The leather of the reins creaks as his grip tightens, knuckles white. The horses sense his tension and toss their heads nervously, their breath clouding in the frigid air.
Jett glances at him, then looks back at me, raising his eyebrows in silent question. I shrug. Whatever’s crawled under Fox’s skin and died there is beyond me.
Jett elbows Fox in the ribs, his grin widening. “Come on, you have to admit she was magnificent. She would have had that monster handled all on her own if you hadn’t jumped in the middle.”
Fox’s jaw clenches. His eyes remain fixed on the path ahead as he mutters, “You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”
“So you would rather I let Odessa or Alix do it?” I ask lightly, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not sure that would have been all that successful, given that Alix is human and Dessa hasn’t held a sword once in her entire life.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“So then you’re saying you’d rather we just left you there to die?”
“No,” he growls, clearly growing more agitated by the second.
“So then who else was supposed to help?” I ask doggedly.
Fox says nothing and the silence only grows more tense. Jett shifts uncomfortably in the front seat, suddenly very interested in adjusting his gloves.
“Who else?” I repeat, pointedly.
I know I should drop it, but I can’t. I just want him to admit I did a good job—but of course, he doesn’t.
Again, Fox doesn’t answer. He shakes his head and glances back at me for the briefest moment. His eyes meet mine in the darkness, and there’s a flash of something raw beneath the anger, before he turns away again.
The anger drains from me and I feel my face soften. Behind his frustration lies concern. He was afraid for me, and the thought sends a flutter through my chest.
My revelation from earlier crashes over me again: Somewhere along the way I’ve developed real feelings for him. And now, watching his white-knuckled grip on those reins, I wonder if perhaps I’m not alone.
Daemon and Alix’s wedding is a blur of laughter and dancing that stretches until dawn breaks. Joy radiates through our little group as we watch them together, their happiness almost infectious.
Eventually, they retire to their room, and Jett jokes that we shouldn’t expect to see them again for at least two weeks.
“Three.” I grin. “I’d put money on it.”
“I know better than to bet against you,” Jett replies, also grinning. “Three it is.”
Everyone laughs, and even Fox smiles—though it’s not the genuine smile that always makes my heart skip, and his dimple remains invisible.
Fox, Jett, Kastian, Odessa and I find ourselves in the living room sharing wine well into the early hours of the morning.
Even Connell joins in, and Jett is having too good of a time to notice that the pirate really shouldn’t be roaming freely, let alone joining us for drinks.
I like Connell, so I don’t bother to remind him.
As the night wears on, Odessa yawns and tugs Kastian to his feet, the two of them bidding us goodnight before disappearing upstairs. Their absence leaves just me, Fox, Jett, and Connell.
Connell sprawls out on the floor, his arms and legs outstretched, taking up as much space on the rug as physically possible, while Jett stands over him, loudly reenacting the story of how the two of them escaped some guards back in Hydratta.
The room tilts pleasantly when I turn my head, and I laugh loudly at the story, my cheeks burning warm.
I’ve somehow ended up sitting on one end of the velvet sofa, with my legs tucked beneath me. Fox is sitting beside me, and my shoulder keeps brushing against his whenever I gesture with my hands.
“Wait!” Connell says, sitting up abruptly and interrupting Jett’s story. The pirate tilts his bottle upside down, watching the last crimson drop cling stubbornly to the rim before falling to the carpet. He sighs dramatically. “It’s all gone.”
Clearly forgetting whatever he’d been saying a moment before, Jett spins around to look, swaying slightly as he finds his balance. “That’s awful,” he bemoans.
“Downright cruel,” Connell agrees, nodding.
“Frankly barbaric. We’ll have to remedy this immediately.”
“Good man,” Connell booms, scrambling to his feet. He makes a theatrical sweeping bow toward me and nearly topples forward onto his face. “Excuse us, dear lady, we shall return in a moment.”
I giggle, as Jett grabs him by the back of the collar and drags him out of the room in search of more wine. We can hear their echoing, slightly slurred, shouts as they disappear down the hallway.
“They don’t need more wine,” Fox mutters.
I look sideways at him, still grinning. “Maybe not, but it seems like you do. You’re not even smiling.”
He pointedly lifts his mostly full wine glass to his lips and takes a sip, then flashes red stained teeth at me, like a wolf bearing its bloody fangs.
“Is that supposed to be a smile?” I ask, laughing. “I can’t even see your dimple.”
His brow furrows. “My what?”
“Your dimple.” I reach out and poke him in the cheek, and his face splits into an actual smile. “Oh, there it is!”
A loud crash and the sound of Jett and Connell’s raised voices comes from the other room and both of us freeze, glancing toward the dining room.
“I should go make sure they don’t hurt themselves,” Fox mutters to himself, even as he makes no effort to stand up.
“Why aren’t you as drunk as the rest of us?” I ask, nose wrinkling.
“I metabolize toxins quickly.”
“I’m so sorry! That must be horrible.”
He flashes me another grin. “Not always, but right now it’s not great.”
“Drunk people are a lot more annoying if you’re sober. I must be so annoying to you right now.” My face falls. “Wait, I swear I can focus. Hold on a minute.”
I close my eyes and try to banish the buzz of wine in my head. It helps I think…but it’s hard to tell. I tuck my feet more securely beneath me, the cushion dipping as I adjust, and when I open my eyes again, Fox’s gaze is already pinned to my face.
“You’re not,” he says.
“Not what?” I ask.
He shakes his head, looking bemused. “Not annoying. At least, not anymore.”
“Does that mean I used to annoy you?” I gasp in mock horror.
He rolls his eyes. “Like I said, not anymore.”
I giggle and grin up at him, suddenly aware that we’ve moved much closer on the couch.
Or rather, I’ve moved closer. Fox hasn’t shifted at all, but he also doesn’t seem bothered that I’m now practically sitting in his lap.
If anything, he looks a little drunk now as his hand falls lightly onto my thigh.
I look down at his hand, then over my shoulder toward where Connell and Jett’s voices are still clearly audible coming from the dining room. I should probably move in case they come back in…but maybe I don’t have to bother.
“What did you tell Jett?” I ask breathlessly.
Fox blinks at me. “When?”
“Earlier. What did you tell him about the door slamming?”
“Oh,” he looks confused. “I didn’t say anything.”
I smile. “Only you could get away with that.”
He takes another sip of his wine, and I think he’s not going to answer, but then he says: “I think most people talk just to hear their own voices, not because they have anything useful to say. I’ve never cared enough to bother.”
“You talk to me, though.”
“I know.”
My heart swells and my breathing hitches. This isn’t the time to talk about it, but my tongue feels loose and suddenly the words are tumbling from my mouth before I can stop them.
“Listen, I actually did want to talk to you about something.”
His eyes suddenly shift and he looks nervous. “If it’s about earlier…”
“No, it’s—wait, what about earlier?”
“I thought you were mad that I stopped you from fighting.”
I must not have done a good enough job of focusing, because I take a moment to understand that he’s talking about the battle in the witch’s hut earlier today, when he put himself between me and the creature.
“Oh…no, I’m not upset about that. It’s not…
it’s nothing, really. I just can’t do this anymore. ”
He still looks confused. “You can’t do what anymore?”
“This.” I gesture between us, at a loss for words to explain what “this” is.
Fox’s eyes widen. “You want to end it?”
“What? No.” He looks briefly relieved, then I finish. “I mean, kind of. Maybe. This isn’t coming out right.”
Fox slowly turns to put his wine glass down on an end table behind him, and when he looks back at me his expression has gone flat. There’s no more smile in his eyes, and he doesn’t even answer me, just nods for me to continue.