Page 57 of Fox of Fox Hall

That earned him a huff, startling with how muchit revealed, although Domvoda kept his gaze away. “But he won’ttake the position offered him.”

“He has reasons.” Fox stayed soft, the wayConall was with him about issues like this. “People have reasons oftheir own for what they do, my king.”

“I know.” It was heavy with bitterness.

Fox glanced to Byr Din because he had no oneelse to share a glance with. Byr Din sat quietly, head slightlyturned away as if he had realized at some point that he ought topretend he couldn’t hear but had no way to leave the table withoutdrawing attention to himself. He then must have also realized thatthe pretense was meaningless. His gaze went from Fox to Domvoda.Fox looked back at the king as well.

“You speak in the past tense.” Domvoda wastrying to sound bored despite carrying on the conversation. “Areyou leaving too?”

Fox hadn’t noticed how he’d spoken, but blamedthe wine. “Where would I go? It’s odd, being known. It has somepower but also a great cost. And… I’m not a commoner anymore, am I?Not really. But I’m hardly a byr. I’m not your lover and not yourfriend.” He paused, not certain that Domvoda hadn’t objected, thathe hadn’t imagined it. “I’m here because… I entertain you?” heguessed. “Because Iamyour friend? Will you send me awayfor asking that?” Fox studied Domvoda’s profile. The king wascompelling, even now. Tightly controlled, unhappy and mean, butcompelling; a diamond through a veil. “Do you like leaving me toworry and enjoy that I am caught between places with no betteroption than you?”

“You are the Fox.” Domvoda looked over to ByrDin and then to Fox. He seemed confused, as though it hadn’toccurred to him that Fox would worry. But it must have, because headded, “You should have come to me.”

“And begged?” Fox demanded, too loud, andbrought his voice down a fraction. He was still holding the cup. Hewas always holding to things when he shouldn’t. “You don’t protectme.”

A revelation that had been obvious to everyonebut Fox.

“Doesheprotect you?” Domvoda wasdifficult to read again. Fox had been too gentle with him. That wasalways his mistake.

“Not anymore.” Fox sighed sadly. “But Iprotected him today.” He wished he could be proud of it. “The way Idid it was wrong. I did it as the King’s Fox, and I am not eventhat. Excuse me. I think I need to go to bed.”

He pushed the cup onto the table before risingto his feet. He left before Domvoda could call him back, not thatFox thought he would, no matter how much he wanted to.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The celebration in Kaladas was less raucous thanFox had expected. Although some laughter and excited cries camefrom behind several doors and curtains, most of the knights weresimply sitting around the fireplace. They leaned on one another,speaking quietly as they shared bottles. Fox had forgotten thatmany of them wouldn’t see their friends here for another year, ifthat.

He should learn to think better of the knights,although his opinion of them was unlikely to matter to them now.Many of those around the fireplace looked over when Fox approached.Despite himself, he’d hoped to see Conall, but Conall wasn’t thereand the knights who were glanced to Fox, then, almost as one,turned away from him to continue their conversations. Everyone whohadn’t been there to hear Fox’s words had clearly heard aboutthem.

Fox lowered his head, pleased that Conall hadtheir loyalty and respect but unwilling to risk a confrontation byspeaking to them. He went silently up the stairs to Conall’s room,not entirely sure he would sleep there, but needing to change outof his clothes if he did have to sleep elsewhere. He wasn’t goingto ruin his doublet and hose on the ground. After today, he mightneed to sell them.

He was foolishly unprepared to open the door andsee Conall. He blamed the wine for how he stood staring in thedoorway, not even offering a greeting.

Conall had bathed in the hours since themock-battle but clearly was not about to dress and go downstairs tojoin the others. He was on the edge of the bed, barefoot andshirtless, frozen in the middle of twisting and stretching to reacha spot on his back. The bruise from the day before had darkened andspread, and other, smaller bruises had joined it. His skin gleamedas if he’d put on more of that salve, although likely not enough.Fox hoped he’d eaten and gotten some refreshing drink in him, notmostly wine as Fox had done.

“I can go.” Fox didn’t trust himself to use theright words, so he went with what had to be said. “I would justneed to change into plainer clothing first.” He waited, thenstepped gingerly into the room when Conall didn’t speak. “Are you…?You’re not bleeding where I can see. Byr Drashnal said—that doesn’tmatter.” Fox cleared his throat, closed the door behind him, thenwent to the nearest of his trunks. “I won’t be in your waylong.”

Conall slowly lowered his arm, turning to watchFox instead of contorting himself to rub salve on his back.

Fox glanced to Conall and then away severaltimes, so much that Conall surely had to notice, seeing as Conallhad yet to take his eyes off him. Fox reached down to manuallyuncurl his tail from around his leg, something that never wouldhave happened if he’d been sober. Fox addressed Conall as though hedidn’t have the clingy tail of a scared child. “I could help youwith that before I go. Or I could ask one of the others for you, ifyou’d rather deal with someone else.”

Conall’s short hair was wild, combed in alldirections and then left to dry. His eyes were steady on Fox, thebrows above them drawn together. He nodded, which was so unexpectedthat Fox spent another few moments staring blankly at him beforegetting himself together.

Fox stripped out of his doublet while abandoninghis slippers, and left both on top of his trunk to shimmy from hishose. Conall watched him without speaking, undoubtedly noticing thetremor in Fox’s hands and the flush in his cheeks from thewine.

In his undershirt and a pair of short breeches,Fox took the single step toward the bed to pick up the tub ofsalve.

“Should I be behind you again or would you liketo lie down?” He couldn’t quite meet Conall’s eyes, somethinghumiliating for the Fox, but Fox was not particularly proud ofbeing the Fox at the moment and deserved the humiliation.

Conall didn’t move from his spot at the edge ofthe bed, his legs over the side, feet on the floor, so Fox noddedand went carefully around him to climb onto the bed and kneelbehind him. Conall radiated heat, as if he’d soaked for a long timein near-boiling bathwater, but it was probably from his bruises andsore muscles.

Fox put some of the salve on his fingers andthen began to sweep his hands over Conall’s back before the silencecould get even more terrible. “I’ll rub it in better this time soit won’t get on the bedding. The laundry people don’t need theextra work.”

Nervous nonsense that made Conall twist aroundas if trying to get a better look at him, so Fox put his head downand focused on gently massaging the salve into Conall’s skin. Hedidn’t think about the fact that this was probably the last time hewould get to touch Conall. He would think that later, whilesleepless on whatever patch of ground he claimed for a bed tonight.He would possibly think it many times. It felt like a memory tohaunt him, like the ever-fading images of his bearer’s face, or theseconds after he’d said what he’d said about Conall thatafternoon.

He took his time for that reason, keeping histouch light although a firmer hand might have soothed Conall’saches. He didn’t want to cause more pain.

When all of Conall from his shoulders and upperarms to his lower back was shining with salve, Fox put the lid onthe tub and worked on making sure none of the salve would end up onthe bedding. “Do you have something for the bruises?” The questionmade Fox sound like someone angling to stay. He hurried on. “Or areyou only concerned with the strains?”

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