Page 7 of The Dead Queen

“Come,” he says. “It’s best not to keep the Fox King waiting.”

Reluctantly, I tear my eyes away from my mother to face the guards stationed outside the king’s grand doorway. I take a deep, steadying breath.

Without a word, the guards open the doors to let us in.

Inside the room, a fire roars in the enormous hearth, its flames crackling. The stone mantle is a masterpiece of craftsmanship. Foxes, our family’s emblem, are carved into it with exquisite detail. In the firelight, they seem to come alive as they run, leap, and hunt across the stone.

My father stands in front of the fire.

For one long moment, we stare at each other. He looks just as unsettled by my changes after three years as I feel about his. His famous auburn hair has gone gray and his once-muscular frame has thinned. He seems diminished. Shadows emphasize new lines and hollows in his cheeks. They map his face like rivers on parchment.

Could the past three years have been as hard for him as they were for me? I doubt it.

One might think that after three years without a word to each other, a father and daughter would have a lot to say, but we don’t. We just stare, the fire crackling behind us. The gulf between us was impassible even before I left. The years have done nothing to create a new bridge.

My father speaks first.

“Sienna,” he says, the name echoing in the cavernous room, “it’s been a long time.”

It’s not the opening I was expecting. I’m more used to tirades and bulldozing into long lists of disappointments, but I’m glad the tension is broken.

The large door opens behind us. Commander Malen walks in, the heels of his boots clicking on the stone floor. He hasn’t aged a day since I last saw him. He’s handsome, in a sharp, angled way. Stoic and cold. Nothing like his son.

My eyes drift to Hunter, where he waits silently by the door. Even from a distance, I can sense his unease in the presence of his father.

“My apologies, Your Highness,” Commander Malen says. “I came as soon as I could.”

Irritation rises in my chest. He’s still the intruding overeager supplicant I remember him to be.

“I have urgent news,” I say, unwilling to let Malen usurp this meeting.

My father looks puzzled. “Wasn’t I the one who sent for you?”

“Yes, but you need to act quickly.” My eyes dart to Commander Malen and I hesitate. I don’t trust that man, never have. He stares at me with a pleasant expression on his face, letting me know he’s comfortable in my father’s presence in a way I’ve never been.

My father sighs as if I’ve disappointed him already. “Go on.”

“We were attacked on the road. By corpse wolves.” I watch his face closely for a reaction. He gives me none. “They’ve crossed into Llwyn territory.”

The king’s face remains impassive, but Malen’s isn’t. A small smile blooms at the corner of his insufferable mouth.

My heart sinks. “You knew …” I start, but Father interrupts me.

“Of course, I knew.” His voice is sharp. “Why do you think I had you sent back here?”

This hadn’t crossed my mind. My father fetching me for protection? After three years of silence, it feels like a lie.

I bite my lip, chastened. A veil of mistrust settles over my heart. Just like old times.

Father walks toward me. Behind us, Hunter shifts. I’d nearly forgotten he was here.

“Your Highness,” Hunter says. “Would you like me to leave?” Something in his voice sounds odd. Not afraid or mistrustful, but anxious?

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Commander Malen give his son a firm, subtle head shake.

I turn to look at Hunter. His face tells me all I need to know. He’s never been good at keeping secrets from me, and right now his eyes are telling me there’s more to my father’s summons.

“No,” my father says. “Stay. You should be here for this.”