Chapter Twenty-Five

Opening his eyes and finding himself alone sent Fox scurrying from the bed, convinced he was going to be tossed on his ass the moment the door opened. Then he finished waking up, remembered he was in Conall’s room and Conall had promised Fox would always have a place, and stopped dead in the middle of the tiny space not occupied by his trunks.

Conall had promised several other things as well.

Fox stood there as his panic faded, very much awake as stared at the bed and the rumpled patch where Conall had been when he’d said fantastical things he had felt Fox should hear and then put his tail into Fox’s hands.

Fox raised those hands to his stinging cheeks and closed his eyes to feel giddy and young. Then, because it was the final day of the tournament and he had no idea what was expected of him but had to find out, went to his trunks to choose an outfit.

He anticipated some hostility at the cold-water baths and the small kitchens, but Kaladas was quiet, most of the knights having risen before dawn despite the revels of the previous evening. The few who were around observed Fox coming and going without comment, probably wondering why Conall had allowed him to stay. Fox, who had been told the answer, treated them politely but avoided meeting their eyes as he returned to Conall’s room.

He wore his pink and red doublet and short breeches with the hose adorned with foxes, and had no time to do much more with his hair than pin up parts of it so that a few curling wisps fell strategically around his ears and into his eyes, the rest of his curls bouncing how they pleased. The entire look said he had spent the night in bed and been so exhausted that he’d slept late and hadn’t bothered to really attend to his hair. The truth, although not the truth people would imagine, not for the Fox.

A legend was a poor thing to hold to. It felt especially poor the morning after Conall’s beautiful words.

And his dangerous offer.

For most of his life, even when starving or trudging through the rain in search of shelter, Fox would have said he didn’t need saving. That he’d managed. Now… now he thought of Conall, and what Byr Falnya had told him, and even of Byr Din suggesting tea, and he was less certain. But he didn’t see how Conall could make a story come true.

Fox stood there another moment, useless and scared and shivering, then stepped into a pair of slippers, grabbed his lute, and left for Saravar. He would be barred from entry or permitted to stay, but until he knew which, he didn’t allow his thoughts to travel beyond where to put his feet to get there. One after the other, like he was trying with the last of his strength to reach a village before night fell.

Everything Fox had said and done in his agitation the day before was a shadow at the edge of his awareness, but he kept his eyes straight ahead as he reached the receiving rooms.

Byr waited there, chatting with a growing number of knights in gleaming armor. Fox drew attention he didn’t acknowledge, slipping through the mass of bodies without waiting to see if anyone would move to grant him space. He went to the dais, standing carefully to the side as if it were any other day.

Domvoda hadn’t arrived yet, although his potential consorts, including Matlin Loriloft, were at the front of the crowd. The only one to so much as glance in Fox’s direction was Byr Din. Byr Din stood alone and silent, very nearly the image of the sweet-natured and biddable fertile that his family wanted him to be. Except he’d twisted and pinned his hair up at the top of his head, not a strand out of place, and wore no adornments, something that made him seem slightly less sweet. Fox wondered whose idea that had been instead of focusing on his own worries, then happened to glance away right as several knights walked in to the receiving rooms.

Conall was one of them.

Conall went to his place on the other side of the dais, where he stood whenever he did his duty at court or the receiving rooms. Like the other knights, he was in armor, which seemed too much to be worn indoors on a summer day. But as with those other knights, his armor was possibly the most expensive thing he owned. He wore it well. Fox could look at it now without worrying about violence to come. But mail and shoulder guards only captured his attention for the second before the image on the front of Conall’s surcoat sent such a jolt through him that Fox was grateful his lute was on his back or he would have dropped it.

On Conall’s chest, a red fox stood on its hind legs, two crossed long-axes behind it. Below it, at Conall’s belt, was the knife with the fox head on the hilt. That fox Conall had continued to wear during Fox’s time at court. The first, Conall had set aside for Fox’s sake.

Until today.

Fox raised his head, expecting to find Conall’s attention on him and yet still unprepared for it. His skin stung as if he stood in the full sun at midday. He was probably pinker than his ribbons, although that was a distant embarrassment, then not an embarrassment the longer Conall stared at him.

Fox flung out his tail to try to be rid of some of his sudden energy. He could move forward in an answer to that look and have Conall in his arms again, and Conall’s tail in his hands, and that red fox where he could kiss it to thank it for its sacrifice. He pulled in an unsteady breath.

The door on the opposite side of the dais opened. Two of Domvoda’s advisors came in, each of them carrying a tray that held the prize purses for the tournament winners. Visible behind them through the open door was the king.

With no time to think of a better position, Fox left his tail down and to one side without the tip turned upward. A bland, meaningless pose that couldn’t possibly offend anyone despite being called the Bent Foxtail.

Domvoda paused once inside the rooms, his tail elegantly curved behind him, his doublet blue with silver thread to match the crown of silver and dragon egg shell he wore today to honor the winners. He looked over one half of the knights and other byr, inclining his head to them like the charming king he was capable of being. He turned to do the same to the second half of the room only to pause again when his gaze fell on Fox.

Fox didn’t move.

Domvoda stared at him for one moment more, then nodded regally to the rest of those in the rooms. He came to the front edge of the dais, his advisors on either side of him.

“Once again, I must praise each and every one of you for the strength, stamina, and courage you showed during my tournament.” Domvoda began quietly, solemnly, saving his warmth for the brief smile he gave to a trio of knights who happened to be nearest the dais. “Each of you are welcome at the tables of my hall tonight, and I know I will not be the only one pleased to see you there. With so many of you already preparing to leave, off to your homes or to other tournaments, I hope you will at least stop to enjoy yourselves this evening.”

Fox didn’t think he imagined the yearning sigh from one of the knights in the front. He didn’t try to identify which one. It didn’t matter. Domvoda would find them willing if he wanted them. It might even put the king in a better mood. Not that Fox could determine that.

The advisors called for the tournament champions to come forward, but Domvoda was the one who named each of them without having to be told. He was also generous, offering smiles to several of the knights and lavishing compliments on Byr Rolfi and some others. By the time Byr Drashnal stood before the king, everyone new to Domvoda’s court was probably half in love with Domvoda and choosing to forget his previous sulking and ill-humor. Drashnal himself might not have been won over, but Fox doubted it with the close to bashful way the knight ducked his head when Domvoda spoke to him.

It was not the first time Fox had witnessed Domvoda behaving like a king from a story, but it was the first time he had done so after hearing someone else recount how Domvoda had done that with Fox. He still couldn’t tell which parts were genuine—how Domvoda was when actually interested in what he was doing and how much was calculated. Though it would make no difference to Byr Drashnal if he found himself broken-hearted and humiliated outside the closed doors of Domvoda’s bedchamber.

Then Domvoda turned to look across the dais and Fox’s efforts not to stare were wasted.

Conall bowed his head at the implicit command and came around to stand before the king.

Despite the dais giving Domvoda added height, Conall remained a mountain, perhaps even more so in his recently used armor. Dirt and mud had been wiped off but it didn’t shine as some of the others’ armor did. Maybe Conall had meant to see to that last night but had chosen sleep and Fox instead.

At the thought, Fox glanced to the side of Conall’s face but Conall seemed to have no problem keeping his eyes away from Fox. Neither did Domvoda, who smiled for Conall as he had smiled for Drashnal.

“How your family will be pleased to hear of your victory yesterday, Byr Conall.” Domvoda was cool despite the smile. “It was a testament to your skill and planning, as well as the daring you inspired in the knights under your command. But it is your cunning that will amuse your bearer and sister. A true Vulpets—a legacy I see you have decided to embrace once again.” Domvoda gestured to Conall’s surcoat. Not a word was said to or about Fox, but Fox felt gazes swing to him.

Fox looked from Conall to the king, wondering if Domvoda had realized why Conall had stopped wearing the crest. If he hadn’t before, he must have now.

Domvoda hadn’t lost his smile. “Acting defeated to lure someone closer so you can strike?” His tone was admiring. His gaze was not. “I have spoken of your ruthlessness before, but I don’t think I was believed. People should learn not to underestimate you.”

The knights cheered for that. The rest of the byr, more familiar with Domvoda and court ways, did not.

Domvoda had spoken of Conall’s nature and he hadn’t been incorrect. Conall saw what needed to be done and then did it. Like killing a dragon that had probably been about to kill him, or using deceptive tactics to win a tournament for the sake of his future.

Conall didn’t contest the descriptor. He briefly bowed his head again and said, ever-quiet and careful, “Thank you, my king.”

“It is a shame,” Domvoda continued, allowing his smile to fall, “that you will not accept the position I have offered you. Your service would be great and your presence an honor.”

Fox’s eyebrows flew up. That was practically begging… as much as Domvoda would ever beg. The others might not have realized that, but Conall clearly did. He opened his mouth, then hesitated before answering.

“I regret that I don’t feel it’s the place for me.” Conall was measured and soft, how he was before he said something that would hurt. “I will of course answer when you call and return to the capital as needed. But as things are, I could not serve you as you should be served, my king.”

Seemingly innocent words, but Domvoda looked away, his gaze falling on Fox as he turned to take the last remaining purse from a tray.

“A pity,” he said, a sliver of ice in the words. “There is only one Dragonslayer and many at court will be upset to see your back. But you have another future in mind and we will not keep you.” He lifted the purse, demonstrating its weight and value by making a show of hefting it higher before he handed it to Conall. “For your remarkable display of skill, Conall,” he said, quieter, almost not to be heard among the applause and calls from the crowd. “You fought fang and claw to ensure this was yours. You must have something great in mind for it.”

“Yes, I do,” Conall agreed, then turned. He was before Fox in another moment, scarcely making a sound as he moved—which Fox would have heard, because the applause and cheers became strangled silence between one of Conall’s steps and the next.

Fox tipped his head back, gaze skating over hard-used armor, the startlingly amused expression on the face of the standing fox, and Conall’s gleaming skin. He fixated briefly on the hint of a love bite visible on Conall’s throat, then dragged his attention up to stare uncomprehendingly into Conall’s face.

Conall held out the purse. “Your favor helped me win this. It’s right that you should have it.”

Those at the far end of the receiving rooms would have heard him just fine.

Fox’s lips parted. He closed them at the first murmur from the crowd.

He sent a wide-eyed glance to Domvoda, an equally frozen figure, before looking at Conall again. “You can’t give me this.” Fox couldn’t seem to raise his voice. “Conall, no.” He spoke even lower, a private, urgent whisper. “You need it.”

Conall took hold of Fox’s wrist before Fox had a chance to pull away and placed the purse in Fox’s hand. He reached for Fox’s other hand when Fox staggered at the unexpected weight of the prize and placed both hands beneath the purse to support it.

“I don’t need it,” Conall announced to Fox, to those at the back of the rooms, to Domvoda who still had not said a word, “although I could certainly use it, as everyone here knows well.” He ignored how Fox pushed the purse up higher in an attempt to get him to take it back. “This is for you, Fox of a little village south of nowhere. Use it however you wish or keep it forever. I will not touch it again. Do you understand?”

The byr must have been holding their breath. Not a whisper reached the dais. Domvoda was a blue and silver statue in the corner of Fox’s eye.

Fox stared at Conall, not even risking a blink.

He finally nodded, just once. “So that I have more to start with if I have to start over. But it’s too much.” The needs of a commoner were not the needs of a byr. Fox didn’t have to rebuild castles or replace armor or feed several horses. He would want food and lute strings and sturdy shoes for walking. Room at an inn if it rained. A cart for his trunks, especially if he ever traveled far to the west. “I wouldn’t know what to do with this. Some would make a joke about a den but I don’t know what that would mean for me.” A home of his own had never once crossed Fox’s mind. “And don’t say I am welcome at your home. You might think so but your family won’t. You know it. A feral animal in your ancestral byr estate?”

Conall’s gaze went from warm to blazing hot. He continued to speak for everyone to hear. “This money is yours to keep and you will determine what you want to do with it. I don’t have much to give, but this is mine to do with as I please, and it pleases me to put it into your soft hands.”

Fox shook his head and frowned so deeply it neared a scowl. “Conall… I mean, Byr Conall, is this what you planned? You didn’t need to.”

“Anything is what I said.” Conall raised his head, watching Fox for a moment longer before partially turning to also face the crowd. “In front of these assembled byr and honorable knights, I will tell you again, Fox, that I would do anything for you, and that includes welcoming you into my ancestral byr estate.” A ripple went through the crowd, byr gasping or turning to their neighbors to exchange shocked whispers.

Fox stared pleadingly at Conall.

Conall gave him no mercy. “I was passion-struck at my first sight of you and that has not changed in the time since. It will not. You take on challenges that would make a knight tremble, yet don’t seem to know your own power. You calmed the anxious fears of everyone in that tournament for no reason except that you wanted to be kind. No matter what others think of you, you are kind, Fox. Don’t forget that. You charmed your rivals and stepped in to stop me from doing something you thought I’d regret, although it cost you to do it. You’ve ensnared greater figures than me and never once thought to gain anything from that except love.” Conall sighed, a peaceful sound despite the rising voices around them and several nervously flicking tails from anyone near the king. “No. You didn’t even expect love, did you? Which is a shame because you could have had it.” He didn’t bother to glance to the king, his gaze burning Fox to ash. “You have it now. I love you, Fox. If you didn’t understand that from my words before, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize how little you knew of love, that you wouldn’t recognize it when it was in front of you.”

Fox stared up at him in a daze, distractedly brushing a curl from his eyes and then grunting when this meant he had to hold the purse with one hand.

As if Fox had drawn it from him with one wayward curl, Conall smiled. “If you were ever willing, I would mate you as passion has demanded I do since that day you came to court and barely glanced at me. You should understand that too. And that, even if you don’t desire me or such a life, that purse remains yours—are you breathing?”

Fox sucked in a breath. He couldn’t even hide his pink face without putting down the heavy purse, which he clutched tightly to his chest. “For me?”

“What kind of beast would I be if I didn’t try to protect the one I care for?” Conall asked, leaving Fox to chest pains and panic and the glimmer of Domvoda out of the corner of his eye. “What kind of fool would have Fox and not even try to make him happy?”

“With money?” someone asked from the crowd, tone dripping with disdain. Fox thought it was Matlin Loriloft but didn’t look away from Conall to find out.

“With freedom,” Fox explained faintly, knowing that of the byr, only the knights would understand. “Money is security. Money means having choices. But you mustn’t. Conall, you need this and they will exaggerate this story or lie to make me seem grasping and greedy.”

“The scandalous legend Fox,” Conall responded evenly, as if he’d thought of that already too, “who blushed a rosy pink while the Dragonslayer offered his heart to him before the court. Imagine the tales they will tell. I might be a fool, and you might be scheming, and people will laugh. Or I might be passion-struck and pining, and you might be sweetly flustered to discover it, and people will sigh over this moment. Your name will live on in songs long after you are gone, lovely. That, I can also give you.”

“I didn’t hear Fox ask for either of these things,” Domvoda observed, cutting.

It was a signal to the byr that they might say what they pleased, as it would have been a signal to Fox only a few days ago to be clever to amuse Domvoda. It might still have been meant as a signal to Fox, but Fox was slow to tear his gaze from Conall and slower still to think of anything but Conall showing Fox what love was.

Fox tried to summon the witty response expected of him, but he was warm about the face and neck. “I didn’t ask for them. That’s why Conall chose them. He’s a sly creature.” Fox’s heart beat too fast.

“Or the Fox grows even bolder,” someone suggested, with echoes from the other byr. “The king is not enough, now he will have the Dragonslayer as well?”

“What will he get from whatever cock he jumps on next?” That was asked with a whispered laugh that clearly intended to be heard.

Fox dropped his gaze.

Domvoda looked to the speaker. Whatever he might have said, if anything, was lost when Conall put himself between Fox and the rest of the room.

Fox raised his head but Conall’s back was to him.

“Do no byr in this room respect what passion-struck means anymore?” Conall asked quietly, looking over the crowd. When no one dared answer, he twisted around to address Domvoda. “This is no place for me as it is, my king. Your court is no place for me. Do you understand?”

Fox dropped the purse to the dais behind him and reached out.

A hiss from the dais stopped him though his fingers were barely on Conall’s arm.

“What is the meaning of this display?” Domvoda silenced the room. His glare froze Fox in place. Fox was caught with his fingertips on Conall’s armor and the tip of his tail curled around the tip of Conall’s.

Fox saw their tails and startled backward, nearly tripping on the edge of the dais as he used his hands to pull his tail away.

Conall twisted toward him, his gaze lit from within at the drag of their tails before they slid apart. “Fox.”

“Conall,” Fox answered weakly, as if he had any kind of explanation for why he could never control his tail when Conall was near.

“First you make a scene,” Domvoda did not sound bored now, “then you cannot even keep your tails apart. Fox cannot keep his tail from yours.”

He bit the name out through his teeth.

Fox’s stomach quivered.

Conall looked at no one but Fox.

“I’m sorry,” Fox whispered, keeping his tail behind his back. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

The light in Conall’s eyes grew brighter. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” he returned, as if he had been the cause of Fox’s inappropriate display. “I would have you as my mated one. Might not mated ones touch tails if they please?”

He continued to say things. Fox put his hands to his face, although there was no hiding that he would have gone from pink to red. “Not in public,” he protested. Not even commoners twined their tails together where others could see as Fox had done. “And we are not….” The words stuck in his throat. “That is, we have not had a mating. You are still byr, Conall.”

“You said you did not dream of that.” Domvoda was close to snarling, or possibly actually snarling; Fox couldn’t turn from Conall to determine which. “That you had never imagined being mine because you were not byr.”

“He didn’t dream of it because he didn’t know he could,” Conall tossed over his crooked shoulder. “Tell him why so he can dream of it now.”

“You presume.” Some of those watching this had to be trembling to hear the open anger in Domvoda’s voice. Fox was distantly surprised that he wasn’t trembling. Conall gave Fox the look he used to soften painful truth, telling Fox to be brave, so Fox tried to be.

Conall only actually looked at Domvoda after Fox took a small breath.

“Explain why you didn’t tell him.” Conall did not seem to care that he addressed the king. His tone was not cold or harsh, but he didn’t lower his voice or offer to speak privately. “You gave him up. He assumed it was because you are byr, because you’re the king. Domvoda,” Conall finally spoke with some gentleness, “Fox doesn’t know you’re scared of him. He’s never known.”

Fox jumped, his tail flailing as he turned to gape at Domvoda.

Domvoda stared at Conall for another strained, horribly quiet moment, then slowly turned to look at Fox. Fox had almost forgotten what fire looked like in Domvoda’s eyes. Domvoda inhaled and spoke as though that fire wasn’t there, with most of the feeling smoothed from his voice. “A byr may have a mating with someone who is not byr, even if they are not passion-struck. If they desire it. Others may judge but they can’t forbid it. And except for the matter of heirs, even a king might embrace such a mating if he dares to.” His hands were clenched at his sides but his tail was still.

Fox didn’t know if he blinked, if he frowned, if his tail was arranged properly behind him. He stared at Domvoda in bewilderment.

“It was possible?” he asked at last, and oh, he was young and so, so foolish. “You looked at me like this, like you want to keep me, and you could have, but you didn’t?” He’d pushed Fox away and let the rest of the byr scorn him.

“I had nowhere to go.” Fox’s famed voice cracked. “And you left me that way. Because you didn’t dare admit to anyone else that you wanted me?” Dare had been Domvoda’s word. He hadn’t dared. Fox tossed his head to be rid of that and all the feelings that went with it. “I know nothing of this outside of songs and even I know that is not what you do when you… when you….” He couldn’t say that any more than Domvoda could. The realization made his chest tight. “I’ve never had a place, except for when I was very small,” he told Domvoda instead. “I still have no place because you won’t even make this one permanent. This one where I play music for you and make you laugh. Even that you wouldn’t allow?” It hurt more than Fox wanted to accept, so he focused on what didn’t make him feel so foolish. “But now a place has been offered to me out of kindness.”

“Kindness,” Domvoda scoffed.

Fox stared into his eyes without looking away.

“My king, I don’t feel your court is the place for me any longer,” he announced carefully, shaking inside and perhaps outside, because Conall put a hand on his side to steady him. Fox threw Conall’s hand off, distantly noticing how Conall straightened but keeping his attention on the king. “I am not your Fox.” Each word was sharp, then suddenly less so. “I… could have been. I don’t know if I would have been happy, but I would have tried if you’d told me.”

Or Fox might’ve been as afraid as he had been when Conall had said it.

Fox’s anger slipped away with that thought.

“We’re alike in many ways, aren’t we?” he said on a sigh. “Exactly as I told you. So I am not your Fox, but… but I am available as your friend if you wish it. Or I could be, someday. And as your friend, I will advise you before I….” Fox was definitely visibly shaking, his tail curled around his leg. “Before I leave to find where I am supposed to be.” He wondered if anyone in the whole of the receiving rooms was drawing breath. “You should look for a consort,” he told Domvoda. “A true consort, not merely a fertile who will do for an heir. You should speak with them, and ask them questions, and learn to trust them. And once you do… if you love them, tell them. And even if you do not… beg for a knotting from them.”

Conall coughed, sudden and noticeable in the quiet.

Domvoda stiffened, his tail going still, which was when Fox belatedly noticed it had been flipping wildly.

Fox gestured with both hands, exasperated despite his nerves. “There is another kind of freedom that can be found in being vulnerable and begging for something you know you will get. If you trust them, if you believe they wish to protect you even though you think you shouldn’t need that, beg. Or just ask. That is my advice. Although,” Fox briefly closed his eyes, “legends aren’t real and I didn’t understand any of this only moments ago. So I don’t know that anyone should listen to me, the Silly Fox.”

“The Sweet Fox,” Conall corrected. “Soft Fox, gentle where others wouldn’t be.”

Fox turned to him, mesmerized to find the light hadn’t disappeared from Conall’s eyes.

“You’re the bravest person I have ever met,” he informed Conall with false calm. “That’s probably why you make me quake inside. Even when I met you—saw you—it was…. I don’t know the words.”

“I think you do.” Conall’s mouth curved up. “But I can wait until you find them.”

“Ruthless.” Fox should not be warmed by that. “But kind.” He dragged his gaze back to Domvoda and the whip of his tail. “A kindness that others could know. Your court would be a happier place if you were happier. Do you believe such things are out of your reach? That you must be alone? That you must be distant and cold? Yet now I claw and scratch you and you allow it? Oh.”

Conall had said Fox didn’t know what he did to Domvoda. Fox still didn’t. But Domvoda wouldn’t have allowed anyone else, not even Conall, to speak to him like this in front of others.

Fox shook his head again, more confused than upset. He would probably stay confused. Domvoda stared at him, head up despite the hurt evident in the movements of his tail.

“I think I’ll go now,” Fox said as gently as he could, and then not at all gently. “My choice this time.”

Then he drew in a long breath and looked at Conall.

Conall angled his head toward Domvoda. His tone was quietly respectful but he kept his eyes on Fox. “Thank you for the prize and the honors, my king.”

“The purse!” someone called helpfully. “Don’t forget Byr Conall’s favor!”

Fox startled at the reminder, then bent down to pick up the purse before turning to identify the speaker.

Byr Din smiled serenely, oblivious to the glares of the byr around him… or pretending to be. A short distance behind him, by the doors to the gardens, was Byr Falnya, Byr Shine next to him. Byr Shine was beaming. Byr Falnya met Fox’s stare and arched an eyebrow, possibly amused.

Fox looked away before his attention would draw Domvoda’s wrath to anyone else, then moved on unsteady legs, the heavy purse clutched to his chest. Byr stepped to the side as if wary to be near him now, although this time Fox didn’t blame them.

He was beneath the arch of the doorway at the end of the rooms when he stopped.

Conall probably did not want to come with him. He had duties to attend to, and, after all, Fox had just groped his tail in front of others. Maybe the nice words had been to shame Domvoda and Conall had given Fox the money to tell him politely to be on his way.

Nonetheless, Fox could not leave the rooms without turning to seek out Conall by the dais, and trembled all over again to find Conall’s gaze on him. Conall looked bereft, as if Fox was already out of his sight, but he stood there, saying nothing.

Fox was cradled in gentle heat. His heart roared in his ears. If he walked forward, Conall would be in his arms and all would be well. But Fox didn’t think he could walk forward. Not back the way he had just come. It had taken too much to get this far.

“Conall,” he couldn’t raise his voice but no one else spoke so he was heard, “come here.”

Conall moved immediately, the sway of his tail and his smile louder than any of his footsteps. When he reached Fox, Fox realized there was no hiding his blushes so he put them on Conall instead. He smoothed his palm over the surcoat and the hard armor beneath that. He traced the standing fox, mesmerized by the pretty red and black lines.

“Foxlike Conall,” Fox whispered desperately. “This wasn’t only to protect me or to show me passion-songs come true. This was to convince me of this mating.”

Conall didn’t deny it. “Did it? The purse is still yours regardless of your answer.”

His tail was velvet against Fox’s, a brush just under the tip, then warmth for Fox’s tail to wrap loosely around. “Conall,” Fox whined breathlessly.

“Lovely,” Conall answered, voice rougher than he might even realize, “let’s go.”