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The Writing on the Wall

Chapter 51

"I never thought it would come to this," Charles whispered. He was standing at the window, looking out at the distant fires that blazed against the stars.

The duchy was already under attack. The foxes had come early, before they could even sit down to supper. Smoke furled across the sky. Bells rang. Children screamed. And the foxes were fast approaching the manor. It was only a matter of time before they arrived.

Charles had ordered the servants to hide in the hidden chambers and secret passages, and everywhere, servants were screaming and running, crying, praying, gathering their possessions, clutching their children. Etienne had gone to the kitchen to help Hadly pack their food for the journey, only to find the cook sitting in a corner, drinking himself into a stupor. Hadly grabbed Myles by the apron and tried to make him get up, but the Dalmatian refused to move, said he wished to help defend the manor, but he was too falling down drunk to see. Etienne threw the cook's arm around his shoulder, and after Hadly had finished packing the food, they went upstairs for Charles and the others.

Brooke was sitting on the floor crying when they arrived at Charles' room. Apparently, she hadn't known about the pending attack as the others had kept it from her, knowing she would panic. Hadly went to her at once and helped her up and held her. Judith stood quietly by with an oil lamp, wearing a cloak and hood as she watched Hadly comfort the younger maid.

Etienne went to Charles at the window. "Uncle?"

Charles glanced at him absently. He was holding a book and gave it to Etienne. "Here. Hold on to this, my boy. No matter what."

Etienne turned the book in his paws and flipped to the first page. It was a dairy. Only it didn't belong to Charles. It belonged to someone named . . . Fassil? He looked at Charles curiously, but the duke moved past him, hefting his pack higher on his shoulder.

"Let's go," Charles said to Judith. He slipped both his arms through the pack, and when Judith passed him the oil lamp, Etienne thought he looked like an archeologist or an explorer, his spectacles perched on his nose, his hood drawn up. Charles looked over at Brooke, who was sniffling and blinking out tears as Hadly came up with her. "I promise I'll see you through this alive, my girl," he said to her.

Brooke blinked out tears and nodded uncertainly. Hadly wrapped her in the cloak she'd brought for her and helped her pull the hood up.

They set off through the manor, pushing their way through frantic servants and guards strapping on gear. Charles led the way down the stairs, and Etienne followed close behind him, helping Myles trip along in his drunken stupor. Brooke kept crying, and Hadly kept her arm tight around her as they went.

Judith followed silently at the back of the procession, a thin bag hanging across her shoulder and around her hip. Etienne wished he could properly see her face behind all her hair so he could scrutinize her expression. Jonathan had said she could be trusted, but he was still guarded around her. According to Jonathan, the vixen had mocked him that there were many dogs in Howlester who worshipped the goddess Yfel - how else had so many foxes gotten in and out of the duchy? -- and they would drown their own children if the goddess told them to. If the vixen had been telling the truth, then it meant many of Howlester's servants were disciples of Yfel and would turn against them in a heartbeat if the manor was taken. Judith had said she worshipped Ti'uu, but Etienne couldn't help but suspect her. They couldn't afford to trust in a time like this.

"This way, the library," Charles said breathlessly and pushed a door open.

A crying maid ran past them as they entered the room. In the midst of the shouting and running, the library seemed doubly still and silent, its many shelves casting long shadows in the moonlight. Charles hastily rolled a ladder to one of the shelves, and they watched as he climbed up and pulled a book. Another shelf slid open like a door to reveal a hidden passage, and everyone filed inside as Charles climbed down the ladder.

Etienne waited until his uncle had passed into the passage before he helped Myles inside. The prince was the last to enter, and through the pitch darkness, he could see a switch on the wall, standing still in the glow of the oil lamp Charles passed to Judith.

Charles pulled the switch with both paws, and the bookshelf was sliding shut when Etienne saw someone limp into the library. He went still. It was the vixen.

The vixen was bleeding from her arm, her deerskin dress was torn, and her breasts were pouring out. She was breathless, her white mane tousled, her white fur streaked with blood. She staggered heavily, clutching a wound in her side that was gushing red between her fingers. A bloody sword was dragging in her paw, and as she staggered into the library, it dragged across the carpet, slicing it apart. She dropped the sword altogether and fell with a weak cry, dropping out of sight behind a desk. Etienne winced to hear her cries of pain. He could see her arm reaching, trembling as she tried to pull herself up. He hesitated, then leapt from the passage to help her.

Myles grunted when he was dropped and fell against Charles, who shouted, "Etienne!"

Etienne ignored his uncle. He flew around the desk to find the vixen on the floor, gasping, staring at the ceiling as her eyes started to dull. She froze when she saw him, froze as if she expected him to take the sword up and finish her off. But he took her into his arms instead and ran with her back to the secret passage. He managed to slip inside just as the panel closed behind him.

"You were almost left behind," Hadly scolded as they stood in the darkness.

Etienne wished he could see her. The only light was the oil lamp, and it only managed to light the underside of Judith's hair-covered face. Charles was somewhere beside Judith, fumbling to help Myles stand. Brooke was still sniffling pitifully.

"I could have opened the panel again," Etienne said breathlessly.

"No," Hadly said angrily. "Do you remember which book your uncle pulled?"

Etienne was silent.

"I didn't think so!" Hadly snapped.

Etienne strained to peer in the direction of Brooke's sobbing, strained to see Hadly's face so he could understand why she was so angry. "Hadly --?"

"And now you've brought that creature with us! She'll slit our throats in the dark --!"

"That's enough, Hadly," the duke said calmly. "What's done is done."

"Does anyone else know about this passage?" Judith asked quietly.

"No one alive," Charles said.

"W-We should have brought someone!" Brooke blurted, her voice thick with tears. "Someone to protect us. . . . What if the foxes find us? Wh-What if . . .?"

"Hush," Hadly said soothingly and Brooke dissolved to more soft sobs.

Charles cleared his throat. "Alright, let's get a torch lit and put out that oil lamp. It's low on oil. Come close, Judith, if you would please. Myles . . . sit here against the wall a moment . . . there you go."

Shuffling and grunting as Charles helped Myles to sit. Judith turned with the oil lamp, and Etienne could see his uncle digging through his pack for a torch and a match. Charles' clothing was rumpled and his hood had fallen off in his struggle to catch Myles when Etienne dropped him. His spectacles slid to the end of his nose as he finally pulled out a torch and lit it.

Light sprang to the passage, twice as bright as the oil lamp's flame, and suddenly, Etienne could see Hadly glaring at him. She stood right in front of him, her arm around Brooke, who was sobbing wretchedly into her shoulder.

Myles sat against the wall near Charles, staring miserably at the floor. His black mane was mussed and falling in his face, and his spots were blotched over with flour and kitchen grease.

Judith stood calmly beside Charles, her paw cupping the oil lamp as she pursed her lips to blow out its flame. With the oil lamp out, she set it on the ground, then turned to Myles and helped him to stand. She and Charles steadied the drunk Dalmatian, and Judith moved as if she would put his arm around her for support, but Myles insisted he was fine and could walk.

"We'll see about that," Charles scolded, holding the torch aloft. "What was going through your mind, getting drunk at a time like this? I thought all the staff was informed."

Myles didn't have a chance to answer. He ran to a corner and hurled. They listened unhappily to the sound of his vomit splattering. And each time they thought he was done, he began again.

Etienne took the opportunity to look around. They were in a passage with dirt-brick walls. On the wall behind Hadly, symbols had been painted in bright yellows, reds, and greens. They filled the wall from top to bottom, symbols of birds and flowers and skulls, disappearing into the darkness that stretched away down the passage like an endless, yawning mouth.

Hadly followed Etienne's gaze and noticed the symbols over her shoulder. "But what do they mean?" she wondered. She hugged Brooke tight in her arm, as if to protect her from the imagery on the wall whose meaning was unknown and, therefore, frightening.

Everyone looked at Judith, and it became apparent to Etienne she was well versed in fox pictography.

Judith went to the symbols, and Charles followed, holding the torch aloft so she could read. Hadly maneuvered herself and Brooke out of their way, Myles coughed up the last of his supper up and wobbled over, and everyone gathered round as Judith stared at the writing.

"Why are fox symbols down here, Master Charles?" Hadly wondered into the silence. She frowned almost indignantly.

"Remember Fassil? He didn't look it, but he served the Kingsleys for generations. He dug this passage out," Charles said quietly. "A long time ago. He wanted his love - my ancestor Nicholas Kingsley - to have a secure way out of Howlester should anything befall the manor. He commissioned many dogs to help him, and the entire thing was hush-hush. The dogs were paid enough to never want for anything again, and they were paid again to leave the duchy as soon as their task was complete."

Myles gave a low whistle. "That was some strong lovin' your ancestor must've gave ol' Fassil . . . er . . ." He trailed off when Charles glanced at him irritably. "Ahem. My apologies, Master Charles. Still a bit drunk."

"He wasn't my ancestor anyway," Charles said heavily and peered up at the symbols. "I'm not a Kingsley. I'm a bastard, remember?"

After a long pause, Judith shook her head. "I can't make it out. One, his writing's too sloppy. Can't tell if that's a bird or . . . a pig. Two . . . I'm shite at this."

Charles sighed.

"What about her?" Hadly said darkly.

Etienne saw Hadly and Brooke glare at the vixen, who was gasping softly in his arms. Her arm and side were still bleeding, and her dark blood ran in rivulets down her dangling arm and off the tips of her pink nails. The sound of her blood dripping on the earthen floor was unnerving. Her mane was in her face, and her breasts were still riding with her gasps. She was dazed from loss of blood, and her blue eyes dragged lazily toward Hadly and glinted irritably.

"Go . . ." the vixen panted, "to hell . . ."

Charles frowned. "Translate this for us," he said with soft indignation. "I welcomed you into my home. I was kind to you --"

The vixen laughed - so loudly, the sound bounced off the walls and everyone's ears flattened. "_Kind_to me," she hissed. "If you call tying me up and raping me. . . ."

Charles' frown deepened. "What?"

"Read it for us," Etienne softly commanded.

The vixen looked at him, still panting, and slowly smiled. "Why should I, dog god?"

Etienne's face darkened. "Because if you don't, I'll leave you here to die."

The vixen stared at him a long moment, as if trying to decide whether or not he was lying. Eventually, she decided it was not worth the risk. Fear flickered in her eyes, and she turned her gaze to the symbols and stared at them. "It says . . . It is the way . . . to . . ." She frowned.

Hadly shook her head. "She could be making this up, for all we know."

"Hadly," Charles scolded softly.

The vixen glared at Hadly again. "Then why ask me?" Her voice was heavily accented and the Rs rolled. She also swallowed her As, so that the word "ask" sounded like "osk." Etienne found it almost unsettling to hear her speak after she had been so silent in his lap only that morning.

Hadly's breasts heaved and she opened her mouth.

"Look," said Etienne before Hadly could retort. "Just read it for us. What does it say?"

The vixen and Hadly glared at each other a moment, then the vixen sulkily dragged her gaze back to the symbols. "It says it is the way to a place called . . . Ath . . . Athelney Doochee . . ." She blushed angrily at her inability to pronounce the words.

Athley Duchy was what she meant, Etienne thought. He looked at the wall and noticed that instead of symbols, Athley Duchy had been written with actual letters, in the language of the foxes. The name of the location stood out from the surrounding pictograph, painted in bold red.

"Athley Duchy," said Charles, relieved. "That isn't far from Rorchester. It's ruled by the Owens' cousins. We'll be safe there." He looked at the vixen. "Right?"

The vixen smiled. "Right, dog lord. Great Yfel hasn't stretched her wings that far. Yet."

Judith shook her hair-covered head slowly, and Etienne noted the tightening of her shoulders: she was angry. "Why is Yfel doing this?" she demanded. "What could she possibly hope to achieve? She cares nothing about the gods' great game."

It was the vixen's turn to shake her head. "Foolish . . . child . . ." she panted with difficulty and clutched her bloody side tighter. "Great Yfel is the goddess of madness and chaos. She is not driven by a petty desire for power, as the other gods are driven, as the other gods are blind. She seeks only to amuse herself."

"With the deaths of thousands?" Judith said derisively.

The vixen only smiled. "Yes, child. With the deaths of thousands."

Charles cleared his throat. "Alright. Let's go. We've dallied here long enough." He lifted the torch high and set off down the passage. His boots thumped as he started down a flight of stairs. Etienne followed carrying the vixen and heard the others follow behind.

They traveled in silence for a time, and Etienne tried to ignore the wet blood that soaked his shirt as the fox bled out, tried to ignore how loud their steps seemed in the silence. They came to the bottom of the stair, and as Etienne stepped off, the vixen gasped with pain from the bouncing. He glanced down at her and asked himself what he had asked himself before: why did he bring her?

"Yes," the vixen whispered, so that only Etienne could hear. "Why did you, dog god?"

Etienne's face darkened. "Stay out of my head."

"But your thoughts are so loud."

"I don't care. Butt out."

"Why . . . do you bring me," she panted under her breath, "when I shall die . . . whether you leave me or not? I shall die . . ."

"No. I'll bandage you as soon as we rest. I have some. Just thought I'd let you suffer a while."

She smiled darkly. "So you saw. My sword was bloody. Now you know I killed your dog friends. Now you see."

"I see," Etienne returned bitterly.

". . . then why not leave me to die?" she said in a low voice. "One of your dogs would have come along and killed me. Eventually. A fitting death in the service of my goddess."

Etienne swallowed hard. "Because your life still mattered in that split second when I could have left you behind. I don't know who you attacked with that sword or if they're dead. I don't know how you came to be who you are and where you are. I just know you were dying and you needed someone."

The vixen was silent for a long time, and then she whispered, "I never thanked you . . . You have shown mercy twice now where others would not . . ."

"Better late than never . . .?" Etienne prompted.

"Thank you," the vixen whispered, and she sounded sincere.

Etienne smiled to himself. "You're welcome."

"S-Stop talking to it," Brooke said miserably. She walked behind Etienne with Hadly, and he could hear her sniffling in the dark. "Please!"

"Yes, I've heard enough," Hadly added darkly.

Then Brooke started to cry again, and not wanting to upset her further, Etienne fell silent.

They walked for what felt like hours, passing many murals on the walls. Murals of foxes praying and singing, murals of foxes sailing on the river in long pleasure barges like kings and queens, murals of the fox gods in their winged forms. Such murals were flat out blasphemy, and Etienne thought the Kingsleys were lucky no one had ever found the secret passage and had them hanged or exiled as heretics. Worship of the fox gods of any kind - even a mural - was strictly forbidden. As was the elevation of foxes to royal status, be it in theory or fiction. According to dog history and theology, foxes were never kings and queens but simple heathens living in the mud. The dogs claimed all the oldest fox ruins as having belonged to ancient dogs, and any scholar claiming the foxes had once ruled the earth as kings was usually exiled, executed, or murdered by an angry mob.

Still, Etienne found the murals fascinating. And he could tell Judith did too. Every now and then, he would hear a gasp of admiration and would look back to see Judith peering up at a mural, touching it with the tips of her fingers, her black nose extending from the black mane that was draped over her eyes.

Finally, Myles burped softly and said, "What does all this mean? Foxes on the walls sucking dicks . . .? I think I'm getting a stiffy."

Etienne laughed.

"There has been no such thing on these walls," Judith said indignantly.

"Psh. I saw it. I saw a fox sucking cock. A vixen. Red as blood. On her knees before a black fox," Myles insisted. "We passed it a while back. I just didn't say anything . . . didn't want to astonish our delicate company."

Brooke made an indignant noise.

"So what changed your mind?" Hadly demanded of the cook.

Myles shrugged as they came to a halt in the passage. He smiled at Hadly as he stuck his speckled paws in his apron pocket. "I just stopped caring?"

Hadly shook her head. "You're so much nicer when you're sober, Myles." Her eye passed over him. "And much more handsome."

"I know," Myles said with an apologetic smile. "And you're twice as pretty when I'm drunk."

Hadly scowled at him, but Etienne could tell she wasn't really offended. Her lips were threatening to curl in a smile, and she and Myles stared at each other fondly.

"Now you lot know why I never drink," the cook went on. "It makes me an ass. And I like it when you tell me I'm handsome, Hadly. Tell me again."

Hadly finally gave away to a smile, and Etienne's ears slowly pricked forward as he realized there was something between them. Something more than friendship.

"Alright, settle down," Charles said and wearily removed his heavy pack, letting it drop on the earthen floor in a cloud of dust. "I thought we could all use a rest. And our fox associate needs patching up. Hadly, could you . . .?"

". . . of course, my lord," Hadly said after only a moment's hesitation. It was clear to everyone that she would rather keep her distance from the fox, but she came over to Etienne and knelt beside him as he carefully set the vixen down. The prince pulled the bandages from his pack and Hadly set to work. The vixen lay there, quietly watching, her eyes smirking as they studied Hadly's cold and tense posture.

"You know . . ." said Myles, sliding down the wall to sit. He drew his knee up and rested his elbow on it. "It's probably best to let her die. . . . no offense," he said to the vixen.

The vixen smiled at him. "None taken, spotted dog. I recognize your wisdom and foresight. Set me free, and I will return to my clan and my goddess. And I will tell them where the prince is."

Hadly glanced tersely at Etienne, as if to say, I told you so.

"Then we won't let you go," Charles said simply.

The vixen smiled at the duke next. "Also wise."

Everyone fell silent as Hadly continued to tend the vixen's wounds. Brooke was still sniffling with tears, and looking over at her, Etienne thought she looked more like a child than ever. She dropped her head on the duke's shoulder as absently as if she had done it many times before, and Charles put his arm around her as absently as if he had comforted her many times before. They were so very much like father and daughter in that moment, Etienne had to wonder how Charles could ever conceive of leaving Brooke behind with the other servants, to hide in the secret rooms and passages in the hope that they weren't discovered by murderous foxes. Maybe he genuinely believed the servants would be safe.

But after living with the foxes, Etienne knew they were masters when it came to finding hidden nooks and crannies: they lived in them. And somewhere far above in Howlester Manor, servants were being brutally raped and murdered. He wondered how the guards were fairing, if the one called Porter was still alive, perhaps leading a last brave charge against a band of foxes in the dining room.

"The side wound needs more than bandaging," Hadly said after a while and wiped her paws on her apron. "It needs stitching. I didn't realize it went so deeply, but she just won't stop bleeding."

"The dog god could heal it," the vixen said, and everyone looked at her. "Make the wound heal faster . . ." She looked at Etienne and placed his paw over her bloody bandage.

Etienne just stared at her. ". . . what?"

"Do it, dog god," the vixen insisted impatiently. "You have been to Skkye. You are different now. Perhaps not as powerful as your winged lover, but you have magic."

Judith's mouth fell open. "So it's true . . . you have been to Skkye," she whispered in awe.

Etienne didn't know why, but he looked at Charles. It seemed natural to look at Charles when he didn't know what to do.

Charles still had his arm around Brooke. He stroked her long golden mane as he gently urged, "She's right. Give it a try, my boy."

Etienne looked at the vixen's bloody bandage again and shrugged. "Alright. After all, I did sneeze fire this morning."

Brooke blinked. "What!"

"It's true," said Judith. She laughed softly. "He did. Only it was this afternoon."

Etienne tightened his fingers on the vixen's side and concentrated. He went still when warm light spread from his fingers and over the wound. The vixen gasped, her breathing coming faster and heavier. As everyone watched, the blood retracted into her wound. Etienne pulled the bandage away to find the wound had closed. They could see the flesh through her torn and tattered fur, sealed up. But the wound still ached, Etienne could tell. And it would be some time before the vixen had fully recovered. She closed her eyes gratefully and breathed a long, shuddering breath.

"That's amazing," Hadly whispered. She looked at Etienne with round eyes.

Etienne looked at Charles. "How did you know I could . . .?"

"It's all in that book I gave you," Charles answered. "Fassil wrote a great deal about magic and god-touched children and their powers. He wrote about the visions he had of a god-touched child he would one day come to care for . . . of her lover . . . the descendent of King Antony. He had a vision that you would receive gifts from Ti'uu. I didn't know what he meant by gifts but . . ." Charles smiled. "Now I do."

Etienne looked at his empty paws. "Alrighty . . ."

"Of course," Charles got to his feet with a groan, and Brooke helped him, "Richard thought I was mad. Jonathan too. I'd shut myself away in the study for hours and read Fassil's journals. And no one could pry me out."

"But you weren't mad," said Judith, rising.

Myles got to his feet as well and dusted himself off. "Where_is_ our favorite brat prince anyway?"

Charles frowned.

"Myles," Hadly scolded, adjusting her pack as she rose gracefully to her feet.

Myles glanced at Charles to find him watching him with a disapproving frown. "Oh, right. Sorry, Master Charles. The drink is still in my system."

"Really?" laughed Etienne. "I thought you chucked it all up." He offered his paw to the vixen and helped her stand. She clutched her side and hunched feebly, and he noticed how her blue eyes avoided his. She was embarrassed that her breasts were bare, and she hated being half naked in front of them all. She clutched her torn deerskin dress shut, and Etienne pulled his cloak off and put it around her shoulders. He glanced up to see Hadly glaring at him. He turned away.

"Jonathan --" Charles said, lifting the torch high as they started off again, "-- or the brat prince, as you like to call him, Myles - left long before the attack." He shook his head. "I do hope my boy's alright."

"He'll be fine, Master Charles," Hadly assured him. "He wanted to ride ahead and meet Owen's soldiers. They'll arrive late to Howlester, but at least they'll arrive. And he wanted to be there. To defend his home."

"I know," Charles said unhappily. "And the thought doesn't trouble my heart any less."

Etienne's brows went up. He grabbed Hadly's elbow and pulled her aside. Her eyes swept over him in confusion as they dropped to the back of the procession. Charles continued on with Brooke at his side, unaware that Etienne and Hadly had fallen back. Myles gave them a curious look as he passed them, and Judith whispered that they shouldn't hang back too far. The vixen, meanwhile, dropped back with them, and walked just ahead of them, eavesdropping. Hadly glared at her back.

"What do you mean Jonathan rode ahead to meet the soldiers?" Etienne hissed in amazement. "Surely you didn't lie to --"

"Jonathan asked me to lie," Hadly snapped and snatched her elbow free of Etienne's tight grip. "It is a good lie, and it does Master Charles no harm. How much would it hurt him to know Jonathan ran off like an idiot to Curith? He'd have a heart attack. Jonathan will be lucky if the king there doesn't find some reason to have him hanged. Donica _hates_the Kingsleys. Her brother does too. He might look for any reason to torment Jonathan on a whim. Perhaps he'll keep him from returning and make him serve in his court --"

"And it didn't cross your mind," Etienne said through his fangs," to talk him out of it?"

Hadly glared at him. "Don't you take that tone with me, your_majesty._ We both know there's no talking Jonathan out of something he wants . . . I saw that kiss in the garden. I think we both know well."

Etienne bit his lip and was silent a moment. "You . . . you saw . . .?"

"Yes. I didn't realize it ran in the family."

Etienne glared at her. She was referring, of course, to homosexuality. Despite the fact that it was clear he liked females as well as males. "Well, forget what you saw," he said darkly.

"I've been trying to."

"Just stop, Hadly. You've been abrasive all evening. What's the matter with you?"

"What's the matter with --!" She spun on him, nearly stepping on his feet. "Do you have no restraint?" she demanded, her voice becoming almost high-pitched. A few of the others glanced back, but she went on, "Or do you just screw anything and everything? You came back to Howlester _reeking_of -- things I'm too much a lady to say --"

Etienne laughed, but Hadly poked him in the chest with her sharp nail, and the sound choked in his throat.

"--and you shamelessly_cling to that _murdering vixen whore, who is clearly yet another one of your conquests --!"

"Whoa, whoa . . ." Etienne caught her little paw as she pulled it back to poke him again. "Hadly . . ." He laughed weakly. "Why do you care who I sleep with? What you and I did was clearly just a one-time . . ."

"I know," she said and closed her eyes. "I know what it was. I just . . . ugh. I sound like a stupid girl with a crush." She tried to turn away, but Etienne caught her arm, and she looked at him, her long chocolate mane swinging around.

"If I said I didn't sleep with the fox . . . would you believe me?"

"No," she said at once. But her eyes glanced up and down and she admitted with a breath, "Yes. But only because I know you're a terrible liar."

"So . . ." Etienne released her and slipped his paws in his pockets. "Why do you care who I sleep with?"

"I don't care," Hadly said indignantly and started after the others.

Etienne followed with a laugh. "My chest begs to differ. I think your nail actually cut me."

"Poor baby. Just put your paw on it and heal it."

Etienne chuckled softly. "Hadly, why is it exactly that you're alone? I mean . . . you're beautiful . . . you're intelligent. . . . you cut up my meat real nice."

Hadly glanced at him sharply and resisted a smile at the joke.

Etienne shrugged. "I just . . . don't get it."

Hadly laughed sadly. "Why don't you ask Jonathan?"

"Jonathan?"

"He chases all my suitors away . . . or else steals them for himself."

"So Jonathan's what . . .? He was in love with you or . . .?"

"In love with me?" Hadly made a face. "Don't be absurd. The brat thinks he's protecting me and keeping me at home, near him. I like to imagine he's exactly what my brother would be like, had I one."

"Ah. So . . . clearly he didn't know about Myles."

Hadly's lashes fluttered. "There's nothing to know about Myles!" she insisted with a stiff jerk of her chin, then caught up with the others.

Etienne knew better. As far as Hadly and Myles were concerned, the writing on the wall was clear: they were in danger of something like love. Or at least had been once.

Etienne was going to follow Hadly when something caught his eye and he stopped. A great mural towered over him, depicting two foxes in the throes of passion. Both were winged, the female red and the male black. The female was riding the male. They faced each other as the female cupped the male's face and kissed him. The male had his arms around the female. And both appeared deeply, intensely lost in each other's eyes. The male's eyes were silver as starlight. And the female's eyes . . . were golden.

Etienne felt his heart stop. ". . . Azrian?"