Page 39 of Fox of Fox Hall

Conall exhaled heavily. “You look like you justgot out of bed after being thoroughly fucked. You’re going to causea scene tomorrow. He’ll…. He’ll like it. Once he stops poutingabout it.”

“Doyoulike it?” Fox peered up at Conallwithout brushing away the curl. “As the one doing the thoroughfucking?”

Thatbrought a smile to Conall’s face.“You’re beautiful, always.Andsharp.”

Fox grinned, quite pleased, and perched on thebed again to look down into the mirror while he wound his hair incurling rags. Conall made a small noise, confused or upset.

Fox shrugged. “Well, you’ve already seen therest. Why not this too? My curls are natural but tomorrow therewill be heat and sweat, so I am taking no chances.” Tighter curlsmeant more of his neck would be exposed, but Fox was going to brushthe curls out anyway so his hair looked properly tousled. A planwhich did not matter until Conall shuffled forward to take a ragand examine it, and somehow Conall stroking a piece of cloth withhis finger and not Fox’s invitingly soft skin was a problem. MaybeFox could ask Conall to tousle his hair for him tomorrow morning ina far more exciting way.

Conall would be too busy more than likely, andFox shouldn’t hurt Conall’s chances of winning by exhausting himthe morning of the first day of the tournament. But Conall washandling the rag with more interest than Fox would haveexpected.

“If you’d like to be of use…” Fox beganuncertainly and Conall said, “Of course, if you show me how it’sdone,” before Fox could finish. Then Fox had to sit, shivering andfeeling altogether too many things, while Conall affixed the restof his rags for him.

He didn’t even laugh although Fox must look likea dandelion puff with the bits of white cloth all over hishead.

“You didn’t do these any of the other nights,”Conall remarked as he finished. “This is the routine Iinterrupted?”

Fox admitted nothing. “Do you mind them?”

“They won’t poke me in the eye like thehairpins,” Conall answered mildly. “And they help you make yourenemies squirm, which is enjoyable. So I suppose can live withthem… and all the jars and creams you’ve been hiding.”

Fox lifted his chin. “I was hoping to get thisdone early so as to not interrupt your sleep… and yes, so youwouldn’t see all the jars and creams.” Though his work on his hairwould have been impossible to conceal. “Anyway, tomorrow isimportant to you and you should be rested, not bothering withthis.”

“Worrying for me again?” Conall took theremaining rags, the mirror and comb, and Fox’s abandoned ribbonsand pins to the open trunk before coming back to sit on thebed.

Fox hesitated, but there was no avoiding it nowand he’d already revealed himself with this much of his nightlyroutine, so he got up to return all of his jars save one to thetrunk and then hobbled to the bed on his sore feet.

“Byr court slippers,” Fox explained in a hisswhen Conall started to rise in concern. “I am never allowed to sit,and I don’t get to walk much, so I am simplystandingin thestupid things all day. I don’t care how pretty they are. They’reuseless.” He scooped up a dollop of lavender-scented footcream and began to massage his feet under Conall’s frowning,stunned attention. “You get to wear boots,” Fox reminded him, “sodon’t say a word.”

“I can tell Domvoda to get you a chair,” Conalloffered and Fox almost leaned over to put a lavender-scented handover his mouth.

“Don’t,” he warned, only to groan as his feetbegan to feel better.

Conall frowned harder, then reached out to takeFox by the ankles and turn him around to face him. He paid noattention to Fox’s startled and inelegant squawking. He rubbed inthe rest of the cream that Fox hadn’t gotten to yet, his handslarger and much stronger than Fox’s, and then used his knuckles onthe sole of each foot. It nearly hurt it felt so wonderful. Foxscrambled not to moan or get hard.

He did moan a little in the end, close toecstasy for a tiny foot rub, and Conall responded by kissing thetop of one foot before releasing Fox and saying, “You’re a strangelittle thing.”

Fox stared at him, probably every shade of redthere was. His feet were tingling. It was blissful.

“Strange,” Conall said again. “You’re kind andgiving—don’t deny it, Fox. You were exhausted earlier but offeredto sing for everyone to calm their nerves. You’ll do that, but youdon’t seem to expect anyone to be kind to you. You don’t know whatyou’re looking at, do you? You have no idea what’s before you. Youreally don’t.”

“What’s before me is a knight withlavender-scented foot cream on his hands.” Fox sniffed. “Kindnessis one thing. Rubbing someone’s feet is quite another.”

“The sort of kindness some might expect from afriend or a lover,” Conall went on, voice even. “Like help withyour hair, or intervening on your behalf so you can sit once in awhile. He’ll do it if I ask. Sometimes, he’s deliberately cruel.Other times, he’s just a thoughtless prat who’s neverhadtodo anything in his life so he doesn’t know the cost forothers.”

“I can manage.” Fox crossed his arms but stayedseated awkwardly, his knees bent, his nightshirt up to his thighs.The air smelled of lavender. “I did ask if you’d hold the mirror,”he reminded Conall pointedly. “You’re too nice to me.”

“Or no one else in this place is nice and you’veforgotten what care is like.” Conall’s voice softened. “Or you havenever known it.” Fox went tense, but instead of scrutinizing himfurther or asking questions, Conall sighed. “It’s not my place tosay that. I’m sorry.”

Fox lowered his head to stare at the last jar onthe bed, which he then picked up to make sure it was sealed beforehe shoved it away.

“It’s not the court,” he said at last to thebedding. “Notonlythe court,” he corrected himself a secondlater. “I’ve been alone most of my life. I’ve managed. But you’vehelped me and I am grateful. Don’t think I’m not.”

“Grateful,” Conall echoed with his faceturned away.

Fox glanced up curiously. “What is it you thinkI’m looking at?”

Conall turned back to him. “Me.”

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