Chapter 39
I ride out from Gwyllion’s splintered gates on the first saddled horse I can find.
He’s fast and dark as midnight. The copper pommel on his saddle tells me he’s well-trained in battle, likely the horse of an officer.
No doubt his soldier is dead now, lying in a heap on the blood-soaked battlefield.
The horse leaps over mounds of fallen Fox Soldiers and Gwyllion fighters alike as his hooves gallop through pools of blood.
The wind blows my short, choppy hair across my face. It’s surprisingly freeing not to have a storm of auburn flowing around me anymore.
“Red!” a voice yells from the battlefield. “Wait!”
My heart splinters with relief at the sound of Tristan’s voice, but I don’t slow. Nothing matters more than this.
I can feel the Dead Queen’s eyes on me as I ride across the ruined battlefield to meet my father. She’s watching us from her tower of moths, waiting to witness the bloodshed that I have craved for so, so long.
Up ahead, the Fox King’s orb glows, hovering at the crest of the distant hill. It’s a beacon for me to come find him. When I draw near, I slow my horse to a trot.
My father and five King’s Guards watch me approach. The king isn’t wearing his famous copper armor anymore. He looks almost like a normal man, sitting there atop his white stallion. But his casual posture makes me grit my teeth. I pull my horse to a stop in front of him.
“Father.”
“Daughter.” He nods. “I see you’ve had a haircut since this morning.”
I don’t give him the pleasure of engaging. In one swift movement, I swing down off my horse. I pull the silver moth knife out of my boot and step into the defensive position Tristan made me practice a thousand times this winter. “Let’s talk.”
Father gives me the briefest of smiles before he gets down from his own horse. He walks toward me with lazy steps.
“What has become of my Little Fox these past few months, hm? You’ve grown quite feral.”
“I’ve learned the truth. The truth that you tried so hard to keep from me.”
“Oh?” He raises an eyebrow. “And what truth is that?”
“That it was you who killed Grandmother. That she was fighting against you, leading the Sympathizers. That we, Llwyn, were the aggressors all along.”
“We?” He tilts his head like a dog hearing an odd sound. “Do you still consider yourself from Llwyn?” He sucks his teeth. “You sound more like a flea-bitten Wolf to me.”
His words make me pause, but only for the briefest moment.
He steps closer, and I hold up my knife, a silent promise to gut him if he tries anything. Little does he know, I plan to gut him either way.
“It’s abhorrent. Unnatural.” His voice trembles with disgust as he says the words. “You’ve sullied the Fox Throne. Ruined it with the stench of Wolves.”
I refuse to take his bait. “This ends here.”
He laughs and claps his hands together, his limbs loose and unafraid. “Oh, is that so?”
“Your men are all dead.”
He tuts. “No. Not all. Llwyn is a large territory, after all. Growing larger by the day, in fact. Regardless of whether we take this measly little castle or not.”
I grit my teeth and clench my fist around my knife’s bronze hilt. “You don’t deserve the Fox Throne. You’re cruel. Selfish.”
He raises an eyebrow, studying me. “And you’re not?”
I bite my tongue at the truth in his words.
He grins, moonlight glinting off his canines. “We are both Foxes, you and I. The difference is I am a king.” His grin dissolves into a snarl. “And you are nothing but an ignorant pup.”
He takes a quick step toward me, but I’m faster. With one hand, I grab the back of his neck and stab my blade deep beneath his ribs. Hot blood gushes over my fist.
“This is for locking me up in that rat-infested dungeon.” I pull out the blade and stab him again.
He grunts and grasps for the bloodied hilt that’s buried deep in his stomach.
“This is for killing my mother and blaming me for it.” I pull out the knife and stab him again.
The color drains from his face. “And this is for what you did to Grandmother.” I wrench out the knife, and stab him a third time, putting all my anger into it.
Tears prickle at the corner of my eyes. Finally, I feel the sweet release of vengeance that I’ve been searching for, ever since I was twelve years old. Ever since Grandmother disappeared and I was left alone with a man who hated me.
Up in her tower of moths, I know the Dead Queen is watching as I smile at my father for what might be the only time in my entire life.
Suddenly, I realize that none of his guards have stepped forward to save their king.
My eyes flicker between them as unease settles over my bones.
I look back at my father. His eyes bore into mine.
He clamps both hands over mine … and twists the knife, driving the blade deeper.
Slowly, his lips grow into a self-satisfied sneer.
I know that face. I’ve fallen into one of his traps. I stumble backward, pulling my knife out of his stomach as I scramble away. The Fox King struggles to stay standing. A wet gurgle erupts from his mouth as he spits blood across my face.
He stares me down with a bloody, unhinged smile. “Who needs an heir when you can live forever?”
Dread fills me.
“Red!” Behind us, I hear Tristan’s voice.
“Sienna, no!” Nalina is with him. They’re coming to save me. But they’re too late.
A giant King’s Guard grabs Father by the arms, steadying him on his feet. Deep red blood oozes from the wounds in the Fox King’s stomach.
“Finally.” He chokes out a laugh, his teeth stained red. “You’ve served me well.”
With horror, I watch as another guard steps forward with a silver blade and slides it beneath Father’s ribs. Father’s grin falters as the guard reaches up into his chest cavity and tears out his still-beating heart. It glistens red in the light of the full moon.
A momentary shadow passes across the field, like a ripple in a pond, and I know that the Dead Queen witnessed the horror from her distant tower. With what should have been his final breath, Father looks back toward Gwyllion Castle, victorious.
What have I done? A memory of Tristan in the throne room flashes through my mind.
“To live eternally, there must be sacrifice … When the future queen gives up her life, she must be bathed in the light of the full moon … Her heart must be stolen from her chest before it stops beating.”
Someone grabs my arms and pulls me back. Tristan. He’s yelling something, but I can’t hear him. I can’t even see him through the shock. Horror blinds me to everything else but the pulsing, glistening heart bathed in silver moonlight.
Nalina rushes past me toward the Fox King, her greatsword swinging. Two King’s Guards stop her before she can get close enough to strike. They fight while I stare at my father, unblinking.
The bloodied guard hastily packs the still-beating heart into a velvet-lined case and closes the lid. The copper box glints in the moonlight before he leaps onto his horse and speeds away, south toward the Spires.
My father begins to writhe in agony as one King’s Guard still holds him up.
Father’s eyes bulge in their sockets, and the veins in his neck turn black with death as he screams. The guard loses his grip, and Father falls to his hands and knees, gasping and vomiting up black bile.
He digs his fingernails into the dirt as his limbs tremble.
But he does not die.
Finally, Tristan releases me. He jumps to his feet and unsheathes a bronze sword. He rushes toward Nalina, and together the Wolves fight, side by side.
Nalina runs at the Fox King again. She doesn’t get far before the large King’s Guard pushes her back.
He swings his sword, his strong arms matching her brutality in a way that should leave me impressed.
I know what a force Nalina is. But right now, she’s worn down by battle.
Sweat glistens at her temples, and the dried blood along her arms is dark.
Her muscles tremble as she blocks each attack.
Tristan is too busy with the other remaining King’s Guards to help her.
I leap to my feet, finally snapping out of the horror-struck trance. I run at the guards attacking Nalina.
One guard breaks away from Tristan and runs to help my father up onto his white stallion. Nalina and I fight as the escaping guard gallops away with my father. Except he isn’t my father any longer. He isn’t even the Fox King.
He is a rogue dead king. And the entire realm is in peril.
I’m watching my father escape when I hear footsteps rush toward me.
I whirl around to see a King’s Guard, his bronze sword raised to strike me.
Before I can react, Nalina throws herself between us, slicing her sword clean through the guard’s neck.
For a heartbeat, he simply stands there, stunned.
Then, blood bubbles from his mouth. It fountains from the deep gash in his throat as his eyes go wide with horror. He collapses sideways with a thud.
Relief makes me dizzy. “Thank y—” But the words die in my throat.
Nalina turns toward me, a copper blade sticking out from her stomach.
“No!” Tristan yells behind us. He stabs his sword straight through the remaining guard and sprints through the mud, toward Nalina.
She sways, mouth parting soundlessly, and drops to her knees. She crumples to the muddy ground, scarred face slack with shock.
I scramble over to her at the same time Tristan reaches us. From around the blade, Nalina’s stomach pulses with crimson blood. It’s a death blow. I’ve seen enough of them to know.
Her eyes stare wide at the fox stamped into the end of the copper-plated sword. “Take it out of me.” Her voice is strangled.
“We can’t. You’ll bleed out,” Tristan says.
She gives him an impatient glare. “I’m dead anyway, Tristan. Don’t make me die with a Fox sword buried in my belly.”
He hesitates, his eyes darting between hers and the sword. After a beat, he nods, defeated. In one quick movement, he pulls the sword from her gut. Nalina gasps, blood spurting from her mouth. Her eyes are glassy with pain.
Tristan drops to the ground and lifts her head into his lap. “I’m here, Nalina. I’m right here.”
He looks to me, panic clear across his face. I’ve never seen him like this, even in the middle of battle, even when faced by corpse wolves and foxhounds. I’ve never seen fear like this in Tristan’s eyes.
I swallow hard and place my trembling hands over her wound as I try to call my power.
It barely flickers in my core. I can tell by the defeat on Tristan’s face that he already knows.
I’ve used my power up fighting the Fox Soldiers.
There’s nothing left to save her. Gently, I remove my bloodstained hands from her stomach.
Nalina’s face is pale, her eyes wide as they settle on me. She reaches up to touch a lock of my short auburn hair. “I see her,” she whispers. “I see all of them.”
It’s her sister, I know. And all the other women sacrificed to Moribund to save what’s left of Gwyllion.
Her eyes flicker to Tristan’s. “Isadora, too.”
Tristan closes his eyes and presses his forehead to Nalina’s. He lets out a shaky breath. “Take care of them,” he whispers.
“Always.”
She drops her hand as her chest rises once, then stills. Remarkably, her face transforms. Her muscles relax and her eyes close. Her face grows peaceful in a way I’ve never seen it.
When death takes her, it’s the only time I’ve ever seen Nalina smile.