Chapter Twenty-Three

The feast to celebrate the mock-battle, like the battle itself, was endless. Fox kept to himself as much as anyone could at the king’s table, which was where Domvoda had instructed him to sit. It might have been because the Lorilofts had chosen to sit elsewhere, having apparently decided that even the king was beneath them. It might also have been because Conall did not make an appearance to take his seat and Byr Drashnal had not been up for much conversation. The young knight had stayed for perhaps an hour, his eyes glazing over by the end.

But Fox thought he was at the king’s table because he had pleased Domvoda today. He could think of no other reason why Domvoda would wave Fox to a seat not far from his own. Folding him back under his wing, Fox could not help but think with Falnya’s description of Domvoda on his mind. It wasn’t an uncomfortable place to be, if Fox didn’t think about how easy it was for the dragon to drop him.

He wondered if Conall had felt that way in the clutches of an actual dragon, then decided to avoid thinking of Conall. Byr Drashnal had informed him that Conall was not seriously injured when Fox had asked, but that was all he had told Fox; a politely unhelpful wall. Fox had sat in silence since then. Byr Falnya had not appeared at the feast either, sending apologies with the excuse of feeling unwell after the long, hot day. Fox suspected he was somewhere fussing over Shine. He hoped he was. The other possibility was that Falnya also had no more desire to converse with the Fox.

Fox sipped wine in defiance of Byr Din, the one Potential currently at the king’s table, although Byr Din had not offered tea again or otherwise commented on Fox’s choices. Despite this, he observed Fox fairly openly, and when he wasn’t watching Fox, he was watching Domvoda.

Domvoda had yet to confront Din about it. Maybe he didn’t care.

What the king truly cared about was a mystery known only to him. Like why he had wanted Fox to sit near him tonight after ignoring him—pretending to ignore him—for so long. Or why he had pretended to ignore Fox at all when it was increasingly obvious even to the Potentials that Domvoda noticed much more than he let on, particularly where Fox was concerned. Why he wouldn’t participate in some of the tournament events although he could have. Why he hadn’t looked for a consort on his own, especially with so many byr throwing themselves at him. Why he’d closed himself off from Conall when it sounded as if they had been something like friends. Why he hadn’t sent Fox packing when he’d been done with him.

“Everyone else seems to be enjoying themselves,” Domvoda remarked.

No one else remained at the table but Fox and Byr Din. Fox glanced to Din before he could stop himself.

Din said, “Oh?” politely, as if that look had been a prompt for him to speak.

“The largest purse, perhaps ever, and a successful tournament that concluded with a battle that will be spoken of for years to come.” Domvoda clucked his tongue. “I have done my duty and they are happy.”

“Is that… the point?” Byr Din wondered tentatively. Fox snorted into his wine.

Domvoda cut Fox a look while answering Din. “It is expected.”

“Is that really why you do it?” Fox asked, raising his head. “Do you even like it? Are you enjoying yourself?”

Domvoda leaned against the back of his chair and gave such a tired sigh that anyone might have assumed that he had fought in that mock-battle with the others.

“Fox has ideas about what I might need,” he explained to Byr Din. Why Din got an explanation was another question on the tip on Fox’s tongue. He drowned it in wine. “Fox got those ideas from a friend of his.” The emphasis on friend was slight but unmistakable. “Speaking of which, where is Byr Conall?” It would have been better if Domvoda had smirked while asking instead of regarding Fox seriously. “He normally knows his duty and puts in a small appearance.” He met Fox’s eyes. “I think you hurt his feelings, my Fox.”

Fox lowered the cup of wine, then set it on the table to slide it away from him. “Am I?”

Domvoda stared at Fox for several seconds, then arched an eyebrow in question.

“Am I your Fox,” Fox elaborated recklessly, but only Byr Din was there to hear, and at least if Domvoda had Fox removed from his presence or the castle, Fox had gotten one last solid meal in. Although then he reflected on the fact that he had not done much eating, his stomach as unsettled as it had been throughout the tournament.

Well, he’d set out on many a road with an empty belly before and could do it again if need be. He ignored how cold the thought left him, how much more terrible it seemed now than when he had done it because he’d had no other option.

Domvoda went very still.

“Are you going to ignore me some more?” Fox pressed, deciding to snatch up his wine again. “Your Fox?” he further explained to a stunned, staring king. “I am or I am not. You can’t say something but not act on it. It makes the words meaningless. If I were yours….” Fox stopped with a frown. He had no interest in whatever was at the end of that thought, not as things were. It was important to say what he did not want. “I had no desire to be a consort,” he declared with his chin up. “I’m well aware that is out of reach. I am no one. You are king. I never thought that was possible.”

Domvoda pushed out a small breath. Shocked, disbelieving, or annoyed, Fox didn’t know and Domvoda, of course, would not say.

Fox leaned toward him. “But also I have no desire to be your consort. Even if I were a bearer, I wouldn’t be one for you because you… you don’t allow me close, Domvoda.” The name was strange in his mouth now. “You allow me closer than many others, but still not as lovers should do. Not as friends should do. And that was so,” Fox gestured with his cup, grateful it was empty, “confusing.” He looked into Domvoda’s dark eyes. “I would have been your friend. I would be, lovers or not. I would have been friends with you. Everyone says I am alone, but we would have had that in common, wouldn’t we? We could have been alone together.”

“Fox.” His name from Domvoda was hot as an ember.

Fox shivered. “Did I anger you? The King’s Fox can be a cruel creature. I thought the king liked that about him.”

The comment seemed to recall Domvoda to himself, make him slouch and feign disinterest for another moment, as though Fox would be fooled. “You’re drunk.”

Fox shook his head. He was nearly drunk, but he was not yet lost to the wine. He leaned in, whispering to show Domvoda some gentleness. He didn’t like being cruel. “I’m not afraid of you, my king,” he revealed. “I am afraid of having nowhere to go and no money, of starvation, of growing older without finding a place for myself, but I am not afraid of you. You’re cold, and distant, and either uncaring or so powerful you don’t realize how it is outside of your sphere. But you’re lonely, and you enjoyed what I said to Conall because it made feel you less alone. To you it means I’m like you, that I pushed him away out of fear.”

Domvoda didn’t shout for Fox to be dragged away. He didn’t sneer or belittle him. He stared, then said, almost evenly, “You don’t know what you say.”

“The truth stings,” Fox told him with some sadness. “Did you get what you wanted with him? It wasn’t just the knot.”

Despite his earlier words, Fox flinched when Domvoda snarled. But when that was all, he continued.

“Although you could have had that too.” Fox exhaled shakily. “If not from him, then from any of those who’ve been pushed out of your bedroom. I would have, if you’d asked.” He lowered his gaze to the table. “I would have liked to have made you happy, truly happy. More than….” He rolled his wrist instead of vocalizing anything else about their bed play. “I meant what I told you. You should get to be happy. But that would involve doing something other than what you have done. Using me to scare off your potential consorts?” Fox jerked his head up for that question, raising his voice again. “Any of them might have cared for you if you’d tried.”

“I don’t know what you heard.” Domvoda was icy. If his tail was a warning, Fox thankfully couldn’t see it. Neither of them spoke for several moments.

Then Fox softly broke the tension. “He worries about you. Who you used to be and who you are now.”

That earned him a huff, startling with how much it revealed, although Domvoda kept his gaze away. “But he won’t take the position offered him.”

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

“I know.” It was heavy with bitterness.

Fox glanced to Byr Din because he had no one else to share a glance with. Byr Din sat quietly, head slightly turned away as if he had realized at some point that he ought to pretend he couldn’t hear but had no way to leave the table without drawing attention to himself. He then must have also realized that the 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 was trying to sound bored despite carrying on the conversation. “Are you leaving too?”

Fox hadn’t noticed how he’d spoken, but blamed the wine. “Where would I go? It’s odd, being known. It has some power 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 your friend.” He paused, not certain that Domvoda hadn’t objected, that he hadn’t imagined it. “I’m here because… I entertain you?” he guessed. “Because I am your friend? Will you send me away for asking that?” Fox studied Domvoda’s profile. The king was compelling, even now. Tightly controlled, unhappy and mean, but compelling; a diamond through a veil. “Do you like leaving me to worry and enjoy that I am caught between places with no better option than you?”

“You are the Fox.” Domvoda looked over to Byr Din and then to Fox. He seemed confused, as though it hadn’t occurred to him that Fox would worry. But it must have, because he added, “You should have come to me.”

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

A revelation that had been obvious to everyone but Fox.

“Does he protect you?” Domvoda was difficult to read again. Fox had been too gentle with him. That was always his mistake.

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

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