Chapter 6
An hour later, the training yard is choked with shadows.
They swirl around my legs and creep up my spine, curling into my hair.
The shadows blind me, thickening with each failed attempt to summon my power.
I plant my feet and reach inward again, clawing for the spark buried deep in my core. Nothing. Only the familiar emptiness.
Frustrated, I spin in place, heart pounding, eyes scanning the shadows for the Dead Queen. But she’s vanished into the void, leaving me alone, grasping for light that refuses to come.
“You must learn to banish the darkness.” Her voice is close, but I can’t see her through the oppressive black.
“I’m trying,” I grumble through my resentment.
Day one of training, and I already feel like a helpless child. I close my eyes and try to focus on the place where my power used to live, curled like a sleeping creature behind my sternum. But all I find is stillness. I grit my teeth, dig deeper, and drag it forward with everything I have.
The most I can manage is a faint stirring in my chest. A feeble spark, like a match about to sputter out. Then it dies, vanishing as if it never existed at all. A colorful curse slips from between my lips.
Somewhere behind me, the Dead Queen tuts. “And here I thought you were the Fox Heir. The woman with the power to heal legions and ignite battlefields.”
“You heard exaggerations.” I rip off my gloves and throw them onto the frozen ground. The cold bites instantly at my skin, but I ignore it. Pressing my fingertips to my temples, I take a deep breath and refocus. Slowly, my power begins to stir. It pools in my chest so sluggishly, it’s torturous.
A dark wind snuffs it out like a pathetic candle.
“How is this teaching me anything?!” I yell, whirling around, trying to find the queen in the pitch blackness. “You won’t even give me a moment to get my bearings!”
“And neither will your Fox King father,” her voice whispers, smooth like black velvet. “He will murder you on the spot.”
“I already know that!”
I can’t see anything in the snow-covered training yard, but I pick a direction and start walking. If I can escape the queen’s shadow, maybe I’ll find some clarity at the edge of the yard.
“Perhaps. But I did not know how weak you’ve become in my absence,” the queen says.
Her words grate like broken glass against my nerves.
Absence? She abandoned me for a realm that was never hers, for a throne that stands in direct opposition to the one I was supposed to inherit.
The kingdom I was going to rule before my illegitimate newborn brother was handed my birthright.
Now, I stand to inherit nothing. Unless I take it for myself.
My feet are freezing, but I keep walking, careful not to slip on the icy ground. “You say that like I had anyone to help me after you …”
Left me, I almost say, but I don’t. I will never again grieve for this woman. I believed her dead and gone, and I suppose that’s still true. Whatever stands in this yard now, speaking to me as if she still knows who I am, it isn’t my grandmother. It’s her corpse.
My shins slam into a crate filled with blunt, wooden practice swords.
I smother another curse and hop on one foot as I rub my aching leg. My boot stomps the snow-packed ground like I’m a temperamental child. “What good is learning to fight against your powers when I should be worried about my father’s?” I shout.
“If you can’t control your own light, then how do you expect to battle his?”
Instead of responding, I gesture silent curses into the darkness. My frozen breath disappears into the black mist around me.
“Control. That’s how.” She says evenly, as if she can see my rude motions through the darkness. “You must learn to control yourself and your power. To use it to its best advantage, in order to defeat the Fox King and his knights.”
“And his entire army,” I mumble. I start feeling my way around the crate of practice swords, toward what I hope is an exit from the yard.
All I run into is a damnable sand-filled bag swinging from a rope.
I hit it with both of my fists. It barely swings from the assault.
I lean my head against it, smelling the cool canvas and the damp sand inside. “This is a mistake.”
“No,” the Dead Queen says simply. “It is destiny.”
I scoff. “Destiny? Destiny is nothing more than a story told around the campfire to keep spirits high on the eve of battle.”
“And what would you call this?”
“An experiment in torture?” I offer.
The Dead Queen says nothing, but I sense a sigh behind her silence.
In a split second, the darkness disappears, leaving me more disoriented than I was in pitch blackness. Sunlight reflects off the snow, blinding me. My legs wobble, and my head spins with vertigo from the sudden change.
Across the training yard, the Dead Queen watches. Unfazed and unruffled by the exercise, while I’m left squinting and exhausted.
“You need to work on your endurance,” she says.
“Noted.” I lean forward, bracing my hands on my knees as I let my heartrate return to normal.
“Stamina can only be earned through practice and constant vigilance.”
“Got it.”
“You will begin physical training.” She turns to walk away, then calls over her shoulder. “With Tristan.”
A protest rises in me, but before I can voice it, someone else cuts in.
“No.”
The queen pauses mid-step.
“No?”
Tristan steps out from the castle walls where he’s been watching my embarrassing display. His face is grave, and his arms are folded at his chest. “No.”
The queen turns to him, her head tilted at a curious angle. “You would dare disobey a direct order from your queen?”
“I would if I suspected it was a mistake.”
“Mistake.” Her voice is even, thin.
He nods. “You can trust me to always tell you the truth, my queen. Even if it hurts to hear.”
She pauses, considering. The stillness of her body reminds me she’s dead. Her chest doesn’t rise with breath, her feet don’t shift for balance, and her fingers stay unnervingly still. I wouldn’t be surprised if she didn’t blink beneath her veil.
“Regardless of your concerns, I insist.” She waves a hand, slow and dismissive, as if wafting his words away like smoke.
The corners of Tristan’s mouth turn down in distaste.
“This is too important a mission to fail,” she says. “We have only one weapon against the Fox King.” Her head nods in my direction. “And she is weak.”
Heat rises up my neck. “I’m a weapon now, am I?”
“And what else should you be?” The Dead Queen asks this as if she’s merely curious. This irritates me further.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “A living, breathing human being?”
She scoffs at the reminder that I’m not one of her undead legions. “You are more than that, Granddaughter. Or, you could be more if you only embraced your birthright. A weapon has power.”
My skin prickles at the affectionate name. It sounds unnatural on her undead lips. “A weapon also has a wielder.”
The Dead Queen shrugs. “Perhaps. At least until the weapon becomes its own master. But that,” she turns her head back in Tristan’s direction, “will take time and practice.”
She glides through the castle doors, leaving me with a furious Wolf.
Tristan paces, kicking up slush from the muddy ground near the castle wall. He clearly wishes he could say more to the queen than he did. Something in the way he resisted her request irks me.
“Am I truly so despicable?” I ask.
He doesn’t even pause his pacing. “No.”
“I’m starting to wonder if that’s the only word you can use today.” I glance toward the Spires, their peaks swallowed by a storm thick with snow. I wonder how long before it reaches us.
He exhales sharply and throws up his hands. “No, you’re not despicable.” A beat. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
The words make me flush, but there’s a war inside of me. Hate battles against an attraction that I refuse to accept. Something in his gray eyes makes me feel naked, vulnerable. But I will not let this Wolf take my guard down. Never again.
I clear my throat. “How are you going to train me exactly?”
He looks around the frozen yard with its practice swords and balance posts. I’ll feel ridiculous thwacking a straw dummy, but if he thinks it will help me defeat my father, then I’ll do it. I’ll do anything to kill him.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then how do we start?”
“Not how, when.”
“Okay, when?”
“Tomorrow morning. At dawn. I’ll figure something out by then.”
“Dawn?” My heart sinks.
A hint of a smile brushes his lips. “Yes, Red. Dawn. Meet me at the front gates.”
Then, he turns and follows his queen out of the training yard, leaving me feeling very much like an annoyance and a burden.
So much for being a weapon.
After supper, I return to my room. Grateful for a moment of peace, I shut the door behind me and close my eyes. Dead Queens, corpse moths that gather in towers, crumbling castles held together by ancient spells … When will I finally stop being surprised by this place?
A small scratching sound makes me open my eyes.
I follow the sound to the fireplace, where faint golden embers still glow from the day’s fire. They’re moving.
I drop to my knees and peer closer. A tiny creature, black as coal, rolls in the soot like a bird in a bath.
It’s round, like a mouse, but has no tail.
It scoops up embers with its tiny hands and tosses them over its back, scrubbing soot into its fur.
It wiggles its rump, then dives headfirst into the red-hot flames still burning in the remains of the firewood.
I startle, sure I’ve just watched it burn itself alive. But a moment later, it pops back out of the flames, looking thoroughly pleased with itself. I stare at it, wide-eyed.
It’s fae, I realize with a rush of awe.
When its black eyes lock on mine, it freezes. We stare at each other, neither of us quite knowing what to do next.
I break first. “I won’t hurt you.”
At the sound of my voice, the tiny fae creature darts for a crack in the fireplace wall and disappears.
I stare at the spot for a long time. How many fae creatures are in this castle?
Or in all of Annwyn? My head whirls with the realization that I know so little about this place.
It’s at once exhilarating and overwhelming at the same time.
When I’m sure the creature isn’t coming back, I cross the room to the towering windows.
The view steals my breath as the sun sets over the mountains in the west. Storm clouds ignite in violent shades of pink, orange, and red.
The snow-covered peaks reflect the blaze in a dazzling display of light.
Reflection, it seems, can be nearly as powerful as the source itself.
I squint but can’t look away. The jagged mountains shift with sun and shadow, changing from molten gold to deep violet. In the distance, a pack of corpse wolves howls into the encroaching dusk.
After twilight fades into night, I turn my gaze toward the south. It feels like I can see Llwyn there, just beyond the Spires and storm-heavy sky. My thoughts drift to the palace in Caerwen, where my father is no doubt still seething over my escape.
And even though Elena betrayed me by calling her son my father’s heir, I still hope she survived my father’s curse of inconvenient women dying too soon. No matter how wrong things went between us, I never wanted to see her trapped in my father’s web.
No one deserves that fate.
A knock on the door brings me back from my thoughts. I turn from the darkened windows, and I’m surprised to realize there are tears on my cheeks. I wipe them away hastily, then open the door.
Nalina stands there, like a mountain topped with a thick blond braid. She thrusts something toward me.
“Here. For you.”
There’s a clump of black leather in her outstretched hands. I take it warily. It unfolds in my grip, showing itself to be a pair of leather breeches like the ones she wears.
I lift an eyebrow. “Oh, um …”
“He insisted.”
“Pardon?” I look up at her, wondering if I somehow misunderstood something.
“Tristan.”
“Ah.” I force a smile. “Thank you, but I’m not sure they’re—”
“He wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” She sighs her disappointment. “Believe me, I tried.”
“Hm.” I purse my lips, unsure what to say.
“They were an old pair of mine. I had them taken in. You’re not as tall or strong as I am.”
I ignore the insult. My legs itch just at the sight of the tight, black leather. How does Nalina wear these every day? “Why do I need them?”
She shrugs. “I didn’t ask. But he said they’re for tomorrow. For training.”
“Of course. Training.” I mumble. I am not looking forward to whatever the Wolf has in store for me. It’s bound to be unpleasant.
Nalina turns to leave, then looks back at me, her hand resting on the enormous sword at her hip. “I hope they know what they’re doing.” I must look confused because her mouth turns down even further. “With you, I mean.”
I nod. “You and me both.”
She studies me for a second longer before stomping back down the hall.
I close the door and hold up the breeches. Black leather, slightly scuffed. These were clearly not her favorite pair. They don’t hold nearly as many scratches and repairs as the ones I’ve seen her wearing.
I toss them onto the bed and fumble beneath my skirts to remove my stockings. It’s probably best to try the leathers on now, before I’m expected to wear them for whatever torture Tristan has in store for me next.
Another knock sounds at the door, softer this time. I pull the stocking off my foot as I call out.
“Just a moment!” With one foot bare and freezing against the stone floor, I open the door.
There’s no one there.
I look down the hall in both directions, but whoever knocked hadn’t wanted to wait. After closing the door again, I reach down to wrestle with my other stocking. I barely have time to slide it over my knee before another knock sounds. This time, I open it within seconds.
Still, no one.
I pause, waiting. All is silent. But as I turn to close the door, a flash of white on the ground catches my eye. At my feet, there’s a torn slip of paper. The handwriting is messy, but familiar. I saw it once before.
“Get out.”
My power rumbles a low warning in my sternum. Somewhere, there are eyes watching me. I can feel an invisible gaze inching over my skin. I slam the door closed again.
No knocks follow.