Chapter 24
The winter storm is in full force when we enter the throne room. Wind howls through cracks high above us, and tiny flecks of snow drift down from the rafters. The tapestries depicting sacred trees flap and sway, as if dancing to the music of the storm.
Not for the first time, I’m reminded of how inhospitable this castle is. No one should live here, but there aren’t many places for the people of Annwyn to go. I’ll have to explain this to Hunter.
Next to me, Hunter’s eyes dart from window to window as hail pelts the glass.
Nalina doesn’t even flinch when thunder booms, followed by a floor-shaking crack.
Outside, something heavy tumbles to the ground.
I wonder if it’s a crumbling stone wall or one of the many leaning towers.
Hopefully, no one was in it when it fell.
Upon the dais, the Dead Queen waits.
Her long veil drapes over her face and black gloves cover her arms, but I can’t shake the memory of what’s underneath.
Scars and festering wounds. Skeletal hands and dead flesh.
She sits on the blackened wood and iron throne, her posture straight and unbreathing.
The throne suits her. A cold, dead throne for a cold, dead queen.
“A Hunter has arrived in the den of Wolves.” The queen’s voice booms in this cavernous space, and I notice Hunter flinch out of the corner of my eye. The Dead Queen leans forward as we approach. “Did you think you could sneak into my kingdom? You are no fox. Deception does not become you.”
I expect Hunter to hesitate like most people would when confronted by the infamous Dead Queen, but he doesn’t. When we reach the dais, Hunter kneels, ever the courtly knight, despite his lack of armor.
“Your Highness, thank you for taking me in and saving my life.”
The Dead Queen laughs humorlessly. “You have your Fox Heir to thank for that.”
Nalina passes us and walks up the dais steps.
She stands in her usual spot behind the throne, settling into the posture of a guardian with her shoulders back and head held high.
Her mouth is pinched in its usual way. Now she has two southerners to tolerate.
I can only imagine how much fun this is for her.
“You may stand.” The Dead Queen waves a gloved hand impatiently.
Hunter rises to his feet, trembling slightly.
I study his face. It’s grown pale, but I don’t think it’s from fear.
He’s still weak, but if I know Hunter, he’ll never admit that he’s weary.
The only hint of emotion I catch is when his eyebrows draw together in momentary confusion.
I follow his gaze and see his eyes are resting on the silver moth necklace around the queen’s neck.
The necklace he once gave me to remember Grandmother by.
My stomach twists. There wasn’t enough time to prepare him for what’s coming. But, then again, I suppose there’s not enough time in the world for that.
The queen continues, “I have a gift for you.”
My internal alarm bells ring.
Hunter tilts his head to the side. “A gift?”
The Dead Queen holds out a hand toward Nalina, whose eyes grow dark with concern.
“My queen, perhaps it would be wise—”
The Dead Queen turns her face toward Nalina. “Do not question me again.” Her voice is low, that unnatural, haunting element returned.
My skin prickles, and my eyes dart to Hunter to watch his reaction. The corners of his mouth are pulled down in a worried expression, his eyes locked on the Dead Queen.
Nalina hesitates, but she doesn’t protest further. She reaches behind the black wood and iron throne and retrieves something that steals my breath away.
Nalina places a long silver sword in the Dead Queen’s open hands. Its pommel is molded into the face of a copper fox with ruby red eyes. The fox wraps around the cross-guard, ending in a silver-tipped tail. This is no ordinary sword. It’s also strikingly familiar.
Hunter’s eyes grow wide. “My father’s sword. But how did you … it was on the ship …” His voice is filled with reverence.
“It washed up on the shore with your men.”
The dead men, she means. I try not to think about the swollen bodies of the drowned scattered about the pebbled shore like driftwood. Another gust of wind howls through the rafters overhead as tiny snowflakes rain down on us in slow motion.
The Dead Queen holds the ornate sword out toward Hunter.
He walks forward as if in a dream. He’s only feet away from the Dead Queen when a horrible thought crosses my mind. What if she means to kill him with it? When she doesn’t, I let out a breath.
Hunter reaches forward to take his father’s sword from the queen’s black-gloved hands. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“There’s more.”
Hunter’s face pales further. “More?”
The Dead Queen raises a hand. Behind us, the doors to the throne room open. Two Wolves dressed in black furs enter the room, carrying a crate between them. Their steps echo on the stone floor as they approach. They set the crate before the throne.
“Open it,” the queen commands.
One of the guards uses a pry bar to remove the crate’s nails.
The wooden lid pops open. Inside, lies a copper man.
Or, rather, just the shape of one. Hunter’s copper-plated armor rests on a bed of soggy straw.
All that’s missing are the copper-plated gauntlets that his father melted in the fires at Ellyll.
Hunter stumbles up to it, then trails one hand over the helm with its decorative plating. He holds his father’s old sword up in front of the armor, as if he can’t believe this is all real. He turns back to the Dead Queen with wide eyes.
“Why would you give these back to me?”
Her words are careful, measured. “Let’s call it a show of good faith.”
Fear begins to needle its way into my gut.
I have no idea which way this encounter will go, but I’m certain there’s more to this show than ‘good faith.’ Like a skilled card player, she still hasn’t revealed her hand.
Her secret identity. She’s playing a game, and I don’t like being an unwilling pawn. I need to speak up.
My voice has an undeniable edge to it. “I have a feeling there’s a price to this generosity.”
Hunter and Nalina turn toward me, blinking as if they forgot I was here.
“Everything comes with a price, Fox Heir.” The Dead Queen’s voice is low with warning.
“Then it’s hardly a gift.”
From behind her black veil, she clucks. “Such a rude guest.”
“You and I both know I’m no mere ‘guest’.”
“No.” The haunting edge has returned to her voice. I can sense those undead eyes on me from behind her veil.
“Then tell him plainly,” I say. “What do you require in exchange for this generous gift?”
Hunter’s eyes dart between the Dead Queen and me. I stand firm, daring the queen to be forthright.
She lets out a weary sigh, as though I’m a tedious child. “Fine.” She turns her head to Hunter, her veil swaying in a draft. “In exchange for safe harbor and the return of your armor, I have one request.”
“And that is?” Hunter’s voice sounds hesitant, as if he’s not sure he wants to know.
“Fight for me,” she says simply, as if it is nothing. “Help me destroy the Fox King’s empire.”
The silence of the room is torture. Cold drafts make the tapestries sway and the guards behind us shift uneasily. From her spot next to the Dead Queen, Nalina watches us with fury in her eyes.
“How am I supposed to defeat an entire empire?” Hunter asks.
“Not alone, I assure you.” The Dead Queen nods toward me. “The Fox Heir will help.”
Hunter turns to me, his eyes wide. “You’re helping the Dead Queen now?”
“It’s complicated.”
He gives me an incredulous look before turning back to the queen. “And how am I supposed to fight a force like the Fox King?”
The queen shrugs her bony shoulders. “By swinging around that pretty little sword of yours. And ...” She pauses, weighing her words. “Doing what you do best. Protecting the Fox Heir.”
Hunter scoffs. “Why can’t you have your corpses do that for you?”
The queen’s voice is sharp as a blade. “Because they’re not enough!”
The room stills in the wake of her words. Hail pounds on the windows and thunder rumbles in the distance.
Then, just as quickly as she erupted, the Dead Queen gathers her composure again.
“You may not know this, but my people are barely surviving.” She trails her bony fingers along the armrest of her twisted throne.
“The Fox King takes more territory each year. We are losing this centuries-long war. And losing it badly.” She sits back as if to rest her weary bones.
“We need a new plan. The dead cannot fight all the battles for the living.”
“And what is this ‘new plan’?” Hunter asks.
“A new weapon.”
I stiffen. I’d wondered when it would come into this.
Hunter looks down at the sword in his hand. “This? It’s a sword, nothing more. It’s not enough to turn the tide of war.”
The Dead Queen tuts. “Never underestimate the might of a single sword, Hunter. For a single blade can change the world.” She shakes her head. “But that is not the weapon I was referring to.”
“Then what?”
The Dead Queen laughs lowly.
Hunter frowns. “How is any of this amusing to you?”
“Because I know something you don’t.”
“What?”
“Our tides have just turned.”
He throws out his arms. “How?”
“We have the Heir to the North.”
Silence.
My heart is racing in my chest. I’m not the Heir to the North.
Tristan told me as much. I stand to inherit the Fox Throne in the south.
I’m not even sure I believe in this mythical human heir that comes from a lineage older than the reigns of the Dead Queens.
That story is steeped in legend, not fact.
Hunter shakes his head in disbelief. “The Heir to the North is nothing but a fairy tale mixed with nostalgia for the past.” Hunter narrows his eyes at the Dead Queen. “A past when humans sat upon that throne, not Dead Queens.”
The queen doesn’t look bothered by this confrontation, but Nalina does. She looks angry enough to take the greatsword off her back and kill something. Or someone.