Chapter 41
Although the Maskmaker commanded her to, Yue did not eat the boy that day. Nor the day after, nor the next.
She was simply too fond of the child: The vibrant stories he would share.
The assortment of hand-carved toys he would bring to show her.
Yue had never met a human quite so energetic, so curious.
Sonam was nothing like how the Maskmaker described humans to be, cruel and fearful and bloodthirsty.
Creatures who lashed out at the faintest sign of a threat.
If he was wrong about this, what else could he be wrong about?
On one fine morning, they spent the hours drawing together beneath the shade of a large ginkgo tree. Yue’s hands were shaky, unused to holding things between her slender human fingers. These tools that humans used—paintbrushes—were very similar to the one the Maskmaker so often used.
“I’m going to send this one to my father,” Sonam proclaimed, holding up his newest creation. A landscape painting, awash with a beautiful array of colors. Though she found the concept of art strange, Yue knew the boy had an undeniable talent.
“Do you not live with your father?” she asked.
The boy shook his head. “He lives far away from here in a palace made of jade.”
She raised her brows. “What’s a palace?”
Sonam laughed, bright and bubbly. “You’re funny. A palace is a really big house. As big as a city, even!”
The fox’s heart skipped a beat. A house as big as a city? She could hardly imagine it.
“I’m going to live with him one day,” Sonam continued. “With my father and all my brothers.”
“Why don’t you live with them now?”
“I haven’t proven myself yet.”
Yue frowned deeply, terribly confused. Was this a common practice among humans? To shun their little ones until, by some arbitrary measure, they were deemed worthy enough to live with the pack?
“I’m sure that day will come,” she said.
Sonam set his painting aside and smiled up at her. “I really hope—”
The fox smelled trouble well before she saw it. The Maskmaker. She spotted him across the clearing, hidden beneath the shadow of a drooping tree. Watching for her to complete her task.
But how could she go through with it? The boy was innocent. He had a long life ahead of him. It didn’t seem right.
“Run on home,” she told Sonam.
“But you said you’d play with me today.”
“I’m sorry. I have something important to attend to, but I’ll see you again.”
“Do you promise?”
Her tongue felt heavy. She could not lie. But if she didn’t know how things would unfold, could she truly be faulted when she nodded and said, “Yes. I promise.”
Yue did not return to the Maskmaker until she was sure the boy was well out of sight. She approached with caution, wary of her master’s brewing ire.
“You are so different from your sisters,” he said, tone brimming with disappointment. “Give me your mask.”
She did as she was told, removing the magic that concealed her true form so well. Her ears were pressed back, her tails tucked between her legs. It was the first time that Yue truly knew fear.
The Maskmaker pursed his lips and whistled sharply. Her elder sisters emerged from the shadows of the jungle, a terrible tension sizzling in the air.
“Why didn’t you just eat him, Yue?” Qin asked her.
“You could have finished him in one bite,” said Ahn.
“You’ll starve to death if this keeps up,” muttered Nuying.
“Leave her alone,” snapped Lu, normally so softspoken. “I’m sure she had her reasons.”
The Maskmaker shook his head. “That won’t do,” he argued. “Remember the oath we made. This is what happens when you disobey me.”
With a snap of his fingers, fire erupted across Yue’s face.
It burned so hot that the flames appeared blue, singing through her fur and flesh even as she screeched in agony.
She tried to put the fire out, jerking her head from side to side.
She scraped at her face with her own claws, smashed her head into the dirt to stifle the fire.
Yue could hear her sisters, all of them screaming, crying, pleading with the Maskmaker to stop.
After a minute, he snapped his fingers again, the fire threatening to eat its way through her bones snuffed out like a candle left out in a maelstrom. It was then that the family of foxes realized their mistake.
They hadn’t struck a deal with a god, but the devil.
“Let that be a lesson,” the Maskmaker said icily. “The rest of you, finish what your sister could not. Devour the whole village and leave no soul behind.”
The foxes made no effort to move. How dare he order them around after harming their beloved little sister?
They were a pack, a family; and threats against family, without question, were to be eliminated.
The eight of them pounced with teeth bared and claws extended.
The moment they dared touch their master—
They all turned to ash.
Yue could only watch as her sisters erupted into flames and just as quickly crumbled away, scattering upon the wind’s breath.
It took her a moment to comprehend what she’d just seen, to understand the finality of it.
When they’d sworn their oaths, they had not exchanged their unwavering obedience for masks, as she first believed.
Instead, it was a vow never to turn on their master.
To attack him was to break their oaths—which, in the end, would destroy them.
The Maskmaker scoffed as he brushed ash off his clothes. “Now I must start all over again,” he said with a heavy sigh. “No matter. This time, I know exactly where to begin.”
Yue was frozen, drowning in grief, fear, and rage. Instinct told her to lash out, to take her own revenge, but if she so much as harmed a hair upon the Maskmaker’s head, her demise would be just as swift as those of her sisters. So long as they both breathed, she was bound by the oath she made.
So she did the only thing she could think of.
Yue snatched up her mask and ran.