Chapter 19
We walk in silence. The rhythm of our footsteps blends with the rush of the waves over the ice-crusted sand.
Peppered across the shore, weather-beaten rocks glisten with frost. Without a word, Tristan leads me toward a narrow opening hidden between two boulders that must’ve been tossed against the cliff in a long-ago storm.
I hesitate on the moonlit shore for a long moment.
Tristan watches me, waiting to see if I’ll decide to follow.
I do.
The cave is dark. Tristan disappears for a moment before a flame ignites, briefly blinding me. He holds out a lantern that was stashed behind a large rock.
“I keep candles and a striker here.”
So, this is a place he comes to often. I store this information for future use.
As he leads me deeper into the cave, my eyes flicker back toward the exit.
I can just make out the moonlit waves that crash against the shore.
He pauses and holds out his hand again. I take it, following the Wolf into the darkness.
The air is damp with the scent of the sea. The roar of the water fades to a murmur behind us as it’s swallowed by thick cliff walls. My boots scrape against the uneven ground, and I stumble on a loose rock.
“Careful.” Tristan’s hand tightens around mine.
My heart thuds against my ribs. The walls of the cave glisten where beads of moisture cling to the jagged edges. Streaks of salt and minerals gleam like veins beneath the cliff overhead.
We move carefully, our footsteps echoing against the stone.
Pools of seawater lie eerily still in the hollows of the floor.
They reflect the golden glow of our candle flame with such precision, it feels like looking into a dark mirror.
The deeper we walk into the cave, the quieter it becomes.
Gradually, only the distant drip of water remains, falling like a heartbeat in the dark.
A sudden realization hits me. “It’s warm.”
At first, I thought the temperature change was because we left the biting wind behind, but even so, it’s definitely warmer in here than seems normal. It’s the middle of winter. The pools should be frozen solid, but they’re not.
“It’s the springs,” Tristan says. “Heat rises from deep inside the ground. It keeps everything in here the same temperature all year.”
“It’s amazing …”
Tristan smiles to himself as he helps me step over a wide tidepool.
“Do you bring many people here?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
He casts me a sideways glance. “No. Just you.”
Finally, the passage widens, opening into a hidden chamber. It feels vast, the ceiling arching high above us. At the center of the chamber, a still pool of water gleams like polished glass. The sight of it is enough to steal my breath.
“I’m going to blow out the candle,” Tristan says softly.
“Wait, what?” The thought of being in pitch darkness sends a shot of terror up my spine.
I grew up in a palace where almost everyone could summon their own light.
I’ve rarely been in true darkness. Even then, I’d always had the safety of knowing I could summon light in an instant. That isn’t the case anymore.
“You can trust me,” he says.
I’m not sure “trust” is the right word for what I feel for the Wolf, but I’m in too deep to turn around now. My heart stumbles against my ribs, and I nod.
He looks me straight in the eye to make sure he has my consent.
Then, in a single puff, he blows out the candle.
For a moment, nothing but blackness surrounds us.
I blink, trying to adjust my eyes, but my vision swims with ghostly spots of light.
I think it’s a trick of my eyes until I realize the lights aren’t fading.
They’re growing stronger.
All around us, hundreds of tiny lights speckle the cave walls, glowing in shades of blue, purple, pink, and yellow. They stretch across the ceiling, glittering softly against the dark stone. Even the the pool glows with luminous sea stars that cling to the rocks beneath the water’s surface.
I draw a breath. “It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
Tristan releases my hand and climbs onto a large rock.
His face grows tight for a moment, and I know his ribs ache, but he won’t say as much.
He pats the space next to him. I sit, grateful that my red cloak protects me from the chill of the damp stone.
His gaze drifts across the glowing cave, his face lit by the light of a hundred sea stars.
When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet.
“I used to come here when I was a kid. When I needed somewhere to hide away from the world.”
Something about the way he says it makes my chest ache. I glance at him through the dim light, searching the hard lines of his face. This is a side of him I’ve never seen before. He’s being vulnerable, letting down his guard.
“You hid here?”
He nods once, his jaw tight. “It was the only place where I felt safe. Like the outside world couldn’t touch me.”
The sound of dripping water echoes around us. He’s right. Here, in the heart of the cave, the rest of the world feels impossibly far away. There’s no danger, no responsibilities, only the two of us.
I shift closer, keenly aware of his thigh pressed against mine. “Why did you bring me here, Tristan?”
For a long moment, he doesn’t answer. His eyes catch the light, and I see that he’s struggling to come up with an honest answer.
“I don’t know,” he admits. “Maybe I wanted to share something with you. Something that no one else knows.”
The words hang between us, sweet and intimate.
“I know what it’s like to lose someone,” he says suddenly, his voice thick with emotion. “My sister, Isadora. She was twenty when she died.”
I inhale sharply. “What happened?”
He hesitates before speaking, his shoulders tightening. “It was sudden.”
My heart cracks then. I had no idea that he knew what loss felt like. That he’s suffered grief so deep that it fractures your entire life in two: before and after.
His gaze drops to the glowing pool. “When she died, everything fell apart. My father, Corrin, and my mother, Ilsa … they didn’t last long. Grief hollowed them out. I watched them fade away. And when they were gone, I was alone. I was only twelve years old.”
The same age I was when I lost Grandmother. My heart aches for the boy Tristan was. The boy who had to suffer the loss of his entire family at such a young age. I know that particular flavor of despair.
“That must have been unbearable,” I say.
His jaw clenches. “It was. I hated everyone and everything.” He turns to give me a sidelong glance. “I suspect you might know about that.”
I swallow hard. “I do.”
This conversation feels fragile, like it could collapse at any moment. Tristan has never opened himself up so completely before. It feels like a rare gift.
“You surprise me,” I say.
He tilts his head. “What do you mean?”
“Half the time I think you hate me.”
His eyebrows furrow. He lifts a hand to my chin, tilting it up until my gaze meets his. My skin tingles at his touch.
“I could never hate you, Red.”
My cheeks burn, but I keep my eyes fiercely on his. “You’re a difficult person to read.”
A faint smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Maybe I don’t want to be read like a dusty old book.”
This makes me laugh. “Some of us happen to love books.”
“And what of wolves?” His voice is hesitant when he says it, like he hadn’t meant for it to come out. But it has. And some words can’t be pushed back into the depths of our secret souls.
He moves his hand to where mine rests against the cold stone. His fingers curl through mine, steady and certain. The world outside might be cold and isolating, but here, beneath the light of a thousand glowing sea stars, I feel wanted.
“Why do you refuse to call me by my name?” I whisper.
“Because it reminds me of him. The Fox King.”
“I’m not my father.”
“No. But you are the Fox Heir.”
I give my head a small shake. “Not anymore.”
“Maybe not to him. But to us, you’ll always be. He can’t take that away.”
Something painful claws at my heart. I’m afraid to say the words, but in this moment of vulnerability, I do anyway.
“What if I don’t want it?” I take a deep, steadying breath. “What if I’m afraid it would make me cruel, like him? Like all of the Foxes before me.”
His eyes grow fierce as they search mine. “Foxes are known for being cunning and cruel.”
I scoff. “You’re starting to sound like Nalina.”
“No,” he says firmly, his hand gripping mine tighter. “You’re not those things. That much was clear to me, even back in your father’s kennels. You’re more than your family, Red.”
“But ‘red’ is just a color.”
He looks taken aback. “That’s not true. Red is the color of fire. Of power and … passion.”
“Also love.” The word slips out before I can consider the repercussions. Or, maybe I no longer care.
His gaze locks on mine with an intensity that makes my breath catch. “Yes,” he says quietly. “That too.”
Something between us has shifted, something undeniable. And this time, I don’t think either of us can ignore it.
He leans closer. “You’re more than your family, Sienna.”
The way he says my name—my real name—lingers between us. This isn’t just a conversation anymore. This is something else. His presence fills my senses until he’s all I can focus on. The smell of him, cedar and salt, clouds my mind. It feels like being lost in a dark forest, yet deep in a stormy sea.
“Sienna.” There’s an unfamiliar tremor in his voice. “Do you ever wonder what we could be if we weren’t …” He pauses, his warm breath brushing against the shell of my ear. “If things were different?” His lips are inches from mine.
“Yes.” The word slips from me before I can stop it, a midnight confession brought to light. “But we can’t change who we are.”
His lips draw into a tight line. I see something flicker in his eyes, something almost like regret, but it’s gone before I can be sure. Then his hand rises, slowly brushing a strand of hair from my face. His fingers linger against my jawline and a shiver runs through me.
The distance between us vanishes.
His mouth crashes onto mine, hot and insistent.
My body moves before my mind catches up.
I lean into him, my hands clutching at the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer.
His lips are soft, but the kiss is rough, and I match his frantic desire with my own.
Every vessel, every nerve, every inch of my skin hums with need.
It feels like the world has cracked open around us, like by denying ourselves these past few weeks, we’ve only fueled the fire burning inside.
He winces, and I draw back, gasping. “Your ribs.”
He grabs my face in his hands. “Fuck my broken ribs.” He pulls me back into him, and that’s all the permission I need.
I lose myself in him. I savor the taste of sea salt on his skin, the scent of the bonfires lingering on his clothes, his soft moan against my mouth. There’s a heat between us that no amount of cold can extinguish. Every part of me is alive, straining toward him, desperate for more.
His hand finds my waist, and he draws me onto his lap with a force that leaves me breathless.
He grunts at the pain in his side, but that doesn’t stop him.
His mouth ravages me, kissing down my neck as he unclasps my red cloak to expose the neckline of my gown.
My breath comes in wild gasps as he trails his fingers across the exposed skin of my breasts where they’re pressed high beneath a simple corset.
A shiver courses through me, making gooseflesh prickle every inch of my skin. I gasp and my eyelids flutter.
I pull away, just long enough to see his gray eyes filled with hunger. For me. The Wolf wants me as much as I’ve wanted him.
In the next breath, our lips come together again.
My fingers dig into his chest, above where I know his star-shaped scar marks his perfect body.
I can feel the frantic pulse of his heartbeat against my skin.
There’s a desperation in the way we move against each other, as if we both know that this moment is fleeting.
But for now, I don’t care.
As if my body has a life of its own, my hips grind into his, feeling how stiff he is with need.
Our lips crash together as his hand finds the hem of my gown, then slips beneath it.
I feel his fingers graze up the length of my thigh, where it’s wrapped around his waist. His touch burns like fire across my skin, filling me with an uncontrollable need.
I want, need his hands on me, everywhere.
Without thinking, I bite the taut skin of his neck, and he lets out a low, rumbling moan.
He pulls away only for a moment. “Gods, I want you, Red.” His voice is deep with longing.
“Why not take me then?” I ask, a seductive lilt in my voice.
Tristan lets out a shuddering breath and his hands tighten on my thighs. He swallows hard, but I know what he’s thinking. It’s written clearly across his face: the tight jaw, the veins straining in his neck, the hard look in his eyes.
A Wolf and a Fox can never be together. He would lose the trust of everyone in Gwyllion, not to mention the other Wolves. Nalina would loathe him. And the queen … I hate to think about what she would do if she found out he betrayed the Annwyn people.
“We can’t,” I say, answering my own question.
The words taste bitter on my tongue, my body begging for the relief it craves.
But it’s true. We can’t take this any further.
Not when the world would tear us apart because of it.
This illicit moment would be damning enough, if it were ever discovered.
I can’t have him. Not really. Not in this world.
His eyes are dark, tortured, but he gives me a firm nod. “We can’t.”
His eyes drop to my mouth and linger there before traveling back up, as if dragged away from unspeakable temptation.
This can never happen again. I know this. But right now, I can’t bring myself to care about the consequences. I’m like a drowning woman in need of breath. I reach above the waves and pull his body back to mine.