Chapter 10 #2
We stand off for a moment, both refusing to reveal our thoughts. The sounds of the castle—distant laughter, the clang of practice swords, the rustle of leaves in the breeze—seem muffled, as if the world is holding its breath. I search his face for any sign of what he knows, but he is stoic as ever.
“I thought we could revisit our conversation from last night.” Father says, gesturing for the guards to open the kennel doors. “Pay our friend a visit.”
The moment the heavy doors creak open, the foxhounds sense my father and begin howling. Their voices echo up the stone staircase like a haunting song.
I keep my chin high. “As you wish.” My voice is steady despite the fear gnawing at my insides.
We descend into the damp darkness, led by orbs of light cast by father’s noble guards. The scent of mold and decay intensifies, mingling with the metallic tang of old blood. Our footsteps echo off the stone walls as Father leads us. He pauses outside the Wolf’s door.
“Shall we see if our friend survived?” he asks, a taunting note in his voice.
I shrug, like I couldn’t care less. “He is no friend of mine.”
The iron keys clang together as he opens the lock and I flinch when the door’s rusty hinges screech open.
We all lean in, peering through the cell’s gloomy darkness.
Father ignites a ball of light, momentarily blinding us before he sends it into the cell.
It pauses in the middle of the room, just above the drying puddle of blood.
I watch with secret pleasure when Father’s eyes widen, a flicker of surprise breaking through his usual stony mask. He scans the cell.
The Wolf sits propped up in the corner, grinning like a mischievous boy caught stealing an extra slice of cake. Despite the filth and grime covering him, there’s a defiant spark in his gray eyes.
“Interesting,” Father says, his voice deceptively calm. “And here I was sure you wouldn’t last the night.”
The Wolf shrugs, as if we’re not discussing his brush with death.
My father pauses long enough, a few of the guards shift uneasily. I search for Hunter in the back of the group, but he watches my father, his face unreadable.
The king lifts a hand lazily. “Hold him.”
Two of the copper-armored guards step forward. They grab his arms, wrenching him off the ground. To the Wolf’s credit, he doesn’t look afraid.
To my left, I feel the cool approach of armor as a knight moves closer. I glance up to find Hunter, a worried look on his face.
“Who sent you?” my father asks.
The Wolf just stares him straight in the eyes.
My father looks unperturbed. “Are you an assassin?”
Still, the Wolf says nothing.
My father sighs. “Fine, have it your way.” He curls his finger toward the guards still standing next to me. One man starts forward.
“Wait.” Father holds up a hand. The knight halts mid-step. Father looks at me as he says, “Hunter.”
The man steps back, but Hunter hesitates.
The king raises an eyebrow. “Is something the matter?”
“No, Your Majesty,” Hunter says. His eyes dart toward mine before he steps forward.
My father gestures with his chin. “Hit him.”
Hunter holds up his fist, but hesitates again.
My father’s voice is deceptively upbeat. “I have to say, Hunter. I’m not enjoying this game we’re playing where I have to ask you to do everything twice.”
This is another one of my father’s notorious, sadistic tests. He wants to see how far Hunter’s loyalty will go. How far he can push him into obedience. My father watches me for a reaction.
Hunter punches the Wolf in the stomach. The Wolf doubles over as much as he can with both of his arms restrained.
“Let’s try this again,” Father says. “Who sent you?”
The Wolf coughs, but doesn’t speak.
Father gestures for Hunter to hit him again. “Are you an assassin?”
Still, nothing. Father nods for Hunter to continue. The next punch lands on the Wolf’s jaw. The clank of Hunter’s metal gauntlets makes me wince.
“Did you plant something in my rooms?” Father asks.
The Wolf spits a wad of blood toward my father’s expensive shoes.
“Hm.” Father looks to Hunter.
Hunter punches him on the chin again, this time breaking the skin along his jawline.
“Again,” Father says.
A third punch makes the Wolf yelp in pain.
“Again.”
Punch.
“Again.”
This one lands on the Wolf’s stomach with a dull thud. He groans, but doesn’t say a word.
My stomach churns, bile rising in my throat.
I’m afraid I’ll vomit right here on the damp stone floor.
The guilt is overwhelming. This is my fault.
I’m the reason he was discovered in Father’s rooms. I’m the reason he’s healed, fueling Father’s fury.
I’m the one Father truly wants to break with this display of cruelty.
“We can do this all night, if we have to,” Father says. The light above him casts deep shadows across his face. “I will stop at nothing to ensure the safety of my kingdom.”
Another punch. Then another. I involuntarily whimper when I hear a sickening crunch as Hunter breaks the Wolf’s nose. Fresh blood spatters onto the floor.
Father steps right up into the Wolf’s face, so close their noses almost touch. “Why was my daughter there with you?”
Blood drains from my face. The room seems to spin, and I might pass out.
Hunter looks toward me, his brown eyes wide, pleading, but I’m not sure for what. Mercy? Understanding? Forgiveness?
I don’t know the Wolf. But I do know what he is.
The question burns in my mind: Why won’t he use his power to defend himself?
Is it to keep his identity a secret? He could kill us all with nothing more than his bare hands.
He could call upon his own shadow power and inflict pain on everyone in this room. But he doesn’t.
Another thing I can’t seem to work out is why he trusts me, the Fox King’s daughter, to keep that secret for him. I’m supposed to be his mortal enemy. Why does he assume I won’t tell?
Then it hits me. The Wolf knows I won’t tell his secret because he has one about me as well.
He knows I didn’t just follow an intruder into my father’s rooms. He knows I was looking for answers.
That I want them so badly, I broke into my father’s chamber through a hidden entrance, during the middle of my engagement party.
I have secrets too. And the Wolf knows it.
For now, both are safe. So long as neither of us breaks. But that’s the thing about secrets, somebody always slips, eventually.
The Wolf looks toward me, grimacing through blood-smeared teeth. Those pale, full moon eyes full of pain … and determination. He will not talk. Not even if it means his life is forfeited.
Father rushes forward, grabbing him by the neck. They stare into each other’s eyes, each daring the other to act first. My father releases him and stomps past me, out of the cell.
The knights shift, uneasy. My father never gives up so easily. We listen to his footsteps as they walk down the hallway. Moments later, he returns with a blade in hand.
“Strip his shirt.”
Hunter reaches forward, ripping the stained, thin shirt. In a moment of shock, I realize it’s still the one from his wolf costume. The black silk hangs in tatters, and its crusted with mud and dried blood.
My father takes a step back when he sees the Wolf’s chest. The starburst scar from his arrow wound is on full display. Father’s eyes narrow, then dart toward me with suspicion. I feign surprise as best I can.
“Who else was in here?” Father yells.
The guards’ faces pale. “No one, Your Highness!” Of course, they would never suspect a scullery maid to be a ‘someone.’
“Well, he didn’t heal himself, did he?”
Father lurches toward me, his face purple with fury. “What did you do?” he growls.
The foxhounds yip around us, attuned to his moods.
I shake my head. “N—nothing!”
“Do you take me for a fool?” he asks lowly, almost a whisper in my ear.
“I don’t—”
“That man was at death’s door only hours ago.” He points toward the Wolf. “And now he’s completely healed.” Father brings his head closer to my ear. “You and I both know, not just anyone could have brought a dying man back from the dead.”
I keep my face neutral, but my growing fury shows up in other ways. Sweat prickles at my temple and my hands tremble.
Suddenly, I’m a child again, standing in front of Father’s fox hearth as the flickering flames cast sinister shadows on the walls.
He’s just told me that Grandmother is dead, torn apart by a pack of corpse wolves at the border.
I’m shaking and I’ve wet my skirts. He calls her death “unfortunate” and chalks it up to a “tragedy.” Yet another death to blame on the Dead Queen of Annwyn.
Someone less familiar with him might believe his act of grief, but I notice how the corners of his mouth turn upward slightly.
He’s delighted though he tries to hide it.
My terror transforms into something more powerful.
Rage overtakes me for the first time. I want to kill him.
I want to claw his eyes from their sockets, take the nearest sharp object and thrust it through his grinning mouth.
“Of course, a big man like you would torture a frightened girl.”
My eyes snap open at the Wolf’s voice, dragging me back to reality.
Father turns slowly, his eyes burning with cold fury. “What did you say to me?”
The Wolf raises his head, squinting through swollen eyes that gleam with defiance. He spits a glob of blood onto the filthy stone floor. “I said, pick on someone your own size.”
My father smiles. It turns my insides into ice.
Father takes a few steps forward, rolling up his expensive silk sleeves. He pauses in front of the Wolf. “All right.” He punches the Wolf in the nose.
A sickening crunch makes me flinch. I can’t take it anymore. I leap toward my father, grabbing his arm with a feral growl.