Page 2 of Fox of Fox Hall

“Now, now,” he heard Domvoda say, pitying andcool, “no need to be upset, gentle byr. It’s alreadyforgotten.”

Fox did not look up to see the knowing glancesexchanged by the other byr. He let the song end without extendingit, slipping into something new and inoffensive to hopefully letthe moment pass and truly be forgotten.

He kept to newer songs and music currentlypopular around the capital. It hadn’t been ordered but if no onehere was going to speak of tradition, then Fox was not going toremind them with old ballads and passion songs.

His stomach rumbled. He’d been in too much of ahurry that morning to dress and answer the king’s call to take thetime to eat, but there would be no meal for as long as his presencewas required here. He also had not slept well, too weary fromtravel to sleep, as sometimes happened. However, thinking of it didnothing to help, so Fox focused on the music, letting that soothehim as much as it could. Then, when he knew it was better to keepan eye on the byr around him than continue to ignore them, heraised his head again.

Most here were from the capital, wearing capitalfashions as Fox was, although unlike Fox, they were in gems andused the finest fabrics for their long or short doublets, wornbelted and unbelted, with loose breeches fixed below the knee withties or ribbons and then bright hose to cover their lower legs.Some wore mantles over their shoulders, but that seemed aridiculous choice in the heat no matter how expensive the cloth. Afew had chosen vals—loosely wrapped lengths of fabric worn aroundtheir waists over their breeches or without breeches entirely; atraditional look that not even Domvoda’s tastes could eliminate.Particularly in the summer, the skirts would be cooler. Vals,whether tied or belted, also kept tails pointed downward, forcingthem to stillness and thus revealing very little.

But vals or breeches, long or short, showed theends of all tails, iridescent and vibrant in the light, much likethe tips of each pointed ear, and for some, the toes and fingertipsas well. Ear and tail tips shined like fish scales—or dragonscales, although not even the King’s Fox was bold enough to makethat comparison out loud. It was better to say they were like gems,or colored glass, or the jewelry made from the crushed shells ofthe great beasts’ eggs.

There was plenty of that sort of finery ondisplay as well. If every byr present was saving their best for thetournament itself, they were wearing close to their best now toimpress each other, especially those more inclined to be receptive,which meant they were nearly dripping with adornments, as theirholes would surely drip if Domvoda were to breed them.

Fox suppressed a small, scoffing laugh andskipped the closing notes of the song he’d been playing to do a bitfromThe Bees Are Buzzing, which, of course, was not reallyabout bees, spread-open blossoms, or sticky honey, no matter whatthe lyrics might be.

Regardless of whether or not they wantedchildren, some enjoyed playing the role of a fertile more thananything else and made that preference clear with their attire.Some didn’t care either way, fucking and dressing however theypleased. And some, like the king, did not acknowledge how theymight slick up in the heat of the moment and would never dream ofoffering up their hole. Some others simply liked to keep theirinclinations private.

Fox’s preferences were known, or at leastassumed, so the fact that he could not afford jewelry and fineradornments was not of much importance. He had decided to use thisto his advantage, keeping his limited coin for better uses anddaring a single a byr to mention his lack of decoration byflaunting his bare ears and tail before them, displaying hisuntouched throat quite openly, going so far today as to leave hisdoublet unlaced at the top.

They might sneer, but they still imagined him ontheir knots.

The Fox needed no adornments to make others wanthim, though he was more than fond of a good knotting. He shiftedslightly to ease the pressure on his feet from standing for solong, then adjusted the position of his tail, lowering it to fallto his calves, then curling just the tip: The Idle Question.

Fox was not byr, but he had learned theirmannerisms better than most of them had, Byr Flieric included. Hisslippers were not especially comfortable but they were lovely.White and embroidered in pink and red, they were well-suited to hishose, which were, naturally, embroidered with scampering foxes.That had cost a great deal more than Fox would have liked, but theeffect was magnificent. The hose was secured with ribbons of thesame red as his doublet, which was longer and belted, although hehad also paid for wonderfully puffed sleeves with hints of pink.The sort of colors that enhanced his shining, rosy tail tip and thepale golden strawberry of his curls.

He should have looked like a confection, andperhaps did, his thin linen undershirt deliberately peeking throughhis unlaced doublet. He had a generous mouth that tricked many intolooking away from his sharp eyes.A gaze like a fox, theking had once said, and had not been the first to do so. Fox wasplump enough for a partner to grip him well, which many liked in abearer—not that Fox had any inclinations there. He liked toplaya bearer, not be one.

He idly wondered if the Potentials had differingopinions, if they would dutifully bear if their families andDomvoda asked it of them. He supposed they must be willing to, orwhy come here to indulge the king’s whims? They might be interestedin power of their own, both for their families and for themselvesand thought the trade-off worth it. Domvoda was not as generous oras lasting with his favor as they might hope, but an officialconsort would have some privileges. Perhaps Domvoda might even meethis match. Although Fox didn’t want to think on that, or whatchanges would have to be made to make the court more suited to thetastes of a new consort. He instead wondered about when each familyof the Potentials might appear.

He hoped they all decided to arrive fashionablylate and showed up at the same time, each family making the samedramatic entrance. Perhaps they would have to squeeze through thecastle gates together with their servants and baggage, all of themin their best clothing and jewels to enhance their fertilesplendor.

“The Fox finds something amusing and won’t shareit with us?” a voice called melodiously from among the assembledbyr.

Fox realized he had been smiling too late topretend he hadn’t been. He made his smile wider, as if he didn’tmind not having even his thoughts for himself, and raised his chinwithout disturbing the length of soft curls arranged over oneshoulder. A deceptively simple hairstyle he had adopted back in thecapital, which many byr had taken to wearing since.

“I wouldn’t want to trouble any of the byrbefore me,” Fox remarked mildly, returning his attention to hismusic, “with thoughts they might not understand.”

Domvoda laughed softly to himself before anyonecould attempt a reply.

Fox’s stomach tightened another degree. It wouldresemble the bows in his ribbons soon. But he ducked his headbefore turning toward the king. Fox kept his smile in place, whichwas slightly easier to do if Domvoda was actually pleased, althoughhe did not quite meet the king’s eyes.

“He bites today.” Domvoda still seemed amused.Fox wondered if Domvoda’s future consort would be, and the skin atthe back of his neck grew cold as his stomach twisted and tightenedfurther; a feeling he had lived with for many years, usually not sodifficult to ignore. He wouldn’t be able to push it aside for muchlonger, although he could at least keep his head up for the nextfew hours.

“Do I bite, my king?” Fox asked evenly, glancingto the crowd. “I was trying to be gentle.”

Domvoda laughed again. Despite himself, Foxflushed to have pleased him, some of his anxiety slipping away.

Fox glanced at the crowd, offering a grin tothose who had been hoping Domvoda would chastise him or perhapsfinally banish Fox from the court altogether so they wouldn’t haveto deal with the smart mouth of someone not a byr. Fox the clown,or the King’s Fox, or sometimes Fox the presumptuous tart. But notByr Fox, which was what mattered most.

Fox had been called Fox long before he had everbeen brought to the capital and the king’s court, but he didn’tthink that truth would interest them.

One of their own, a quite talented poet despitebeing noble, had composed a poem about an eager fox presentingitself to anyone who offered it a morsel. Fox very likely had notbeen intended to hear the poem, but of course Domvoda had, and hadinsisted on having it recited with Fox in the room. Fox hadresponded the only way he could; by setting it to music and playingit often. He did so now, quietly, hoping the conversation wouldturn to other things. Which it did, although the others were bidingtheir time. They knew as well as Fox did that the selection of aconsort and the resulting disruption in the royal household mightvery well spell the end of the Fox’s presence among them.

Domvoda would almost certainly not be faithful,and his consort might not either once heirs had been dealt with,but all the same, the new spouse would likely not care for Fox’swit or his musical tastes. Or perhaps they would have servants andfriends pretty enough to keep Domvoda distracted and remind him hehad no need to pay for and house a street musician and sometimeslover. The joke of Fox’s presence would no longer be amusing.

Fox was already far from the royal chambers andhad been for some time, a relief as well as something else to makehim keep a nervous eye on the king. Although at least Fox was notthe only one fretting over the changes. More than one courtier wasgoing wind up on the other side of closed doors soon enough.

It was already happening to some. Saravar didnot have much space to spare during the yearly tournament, and evenmore guests were expected to arrive in addition to the Potentialsand their families and servants. More knights would ride in soon,some bringingtheirservants. Many besides Fox had theirplace at court on their minds.

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