Fox opened the paper and smiled. It was a shawl. She stroked the green velvet and put it next to the feather.
‘What about you?’ She gave him an enquiring look. ‘Did you find what you were looking for?’
‘Yes and no.’
‘What does that mean?’ She pulled the sleeve over her bandaged shoulder. ‘Will you now finally tell me what you’re looking for?’
Spit it out, Jacob. You want to tell her. She’s the only one you want to tell. He’d missed her so much. And he was tired of hiding his fear.
He unbuttoned his shirt.
‘I was looking for a cure.’
The moth’s red outline looked as though someone had traced it with fresh blood.
Fox took a deep breath. ‘What does it mean?’ Her voice sounded even more gravelly than usual.
She read the answer on his face.
‘So that was the price.’ She was trying to sound composed. ‘I knew your brother didn’t just get his skin back for free.’ Her eyes filled with tears. The vixen’s eyes. Brown, like tarnished gold. She couldn’t remember whether they were the colour she’d been born with or whether they’d come with the fur. ‘Which Fairy was it?’
Tell her something, Jacob. Something to console her. But what?
He stepped closer and wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘You always have to pay with your life for crossing one of them. And I managed to get on the wrong side of two of them.’
Fox wrapped her arms around him.
‘How long?’ she whispered.
‘I don’t know. I don’t know anything any more.’ It was only half a lie. Jacob buried his face in her hair. He didn’t want to think any more. What he wanted were the times when he’d go searching for lost magic with her, when he’d lived believing he was immortal, that he could own a whole world. He wanted to dream of what he’d do when he became as old as Chanute, of buying a castle in Etruria, of fishing for pirate gold in the White Sea. Childish dreams. He’d hoped he’d still be dreaming them on his hundredth birthday. Instead, he was going to have to think about which world he wanted to be buried in.
There was a knock on the door.
Valiant didn’t wait for a reply. Fox quickly stepped out of Jacob’s embrace as the Dwarf came through the door. That probably just fired up Valiant’s imagination even more, but Jacob wasn’t planning on telling him the real reason for her tears.
‘How about some dinner?’ Valiant gave them a sleazy smile. ‘We’re having mountain goat. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I have a cook from Vena who can turn even a donkey into a feast.’ He nodded at Fox. ‘Ask her if you don’t believe me.’
Fox forced a smile on her lips. ‘You really should try the mountain goat,’ she said.
CHAPTER TEN
DIGGING DEEP
Valiant’s dining hall was as draughty as the rest of his castle, and Fox was grateful for the jacket Jacob put over her shoulders. Of course, it didn’t help against the fear, and neither did the fireplace, which Valiant’s servants kept feeding with damp wood.
The table, the chairs, the plates, the glasses, even the cutlery was human-sized, but the chairs had been fitted with steps so that the Dwarf could get on them without the embarrassment of having to be lifted up by a servant. Valiant was in a formidable mood and, luckily for Jacob, he assumed that Jacob’s silence was merely a result of his being tired after days of travelling.
You’re going to lose him, Fox.
The thought clamped around her heart like an iron ring. She was ashamed for thinking he’d stayed away so long because of Clara. She should have known him better. But she’d been so tired – all that helpless love, the longing for him. It had felt good to turn her back on Schwanstein, to be by herself for a while, to feel her own strength. To be happy without Jacob. That much love was not good, especially if it was for someone who thought that emotion was nothing but a short-lived rush that was best slept off or forgotten. Several times she’d toyed with the idea of never returning to Schwanstein. But now everything had changed. How could she leave him now?
Valiant asked how she liked the mountain goat.
Yes, how? Even the meat on her plate made her think of death. Fox poked her fork into the meat and looked at Jacob. His face looked so young even when he was scared. And so vulnerable.
You promised to protect him, her heart whispered over and over. Back when he freed you from that trap. And? Promises were nothing when measured against death, which was like a hungry wolf in the forest. Death had claimed her father so soon after her birth that she couldn’t even remember his face. And three years later, her only sister had also become its prey.
But not Jacob!
Please, not Jacob.
Valiant filled his plate for the third time, challenging Jacob to a bet that the Goyl would attack Lotharaine next, and not Albion. Who cared about that, or whether the Empress’s daughter was really going to give the Goyl King a child? Outside, the wind was howling like a ravenous creature, and the night was as cold as her fear.
‘Yes, I know. I myself voted against it in the Dwarf council!’ Valiant had drunk too much, which only made him more talkative. And of course the toothpick he was using to pry the goat meat from his teeth was made of gold-plated wood. ‘Digging that deep was greedy, but these days there’s nothing more profitable than iron ore.’ The Dwarf waited until the servants had cleared the plates, then he leant over the table towards Jacob. ‘They never intended to dig all the way under the Dead City. Those idiots only realised it once they hit that door.’
‘Really?’ Jacob mumbled.
He’d barely eaten anything.
Fox threw the bones from her plate to the two mastiffs lounging in front of the fireplace. The vixen in her knew how good they tasted. Valiant didn’t like the hounds. They were so big that he topped them only by a hand’s breadth, but they had come with the castle.
‘They should have dumped a lorry full of rubble in front of it and forgotten about it.’ Valiant dropped the toothpick into a servant’s hand. ‘You know I will always get behind a good deal, but who are they ever going to sell the thing to? Provided they ever manage to get inside.’
Jacob poured himself what dismal rest Valiant had left of the wine. ‘Inside what?’
He’d obviously been paying as little attention as Fox.
‘Inside the tomb! What do you think I’ve been talking about all this time? Didn’t she tell you anything?’ Valiant shot a dismayed look at Fox. He’d probably told the story a dozen times. But she’d been preoccupied and had soon grown tired of listening to endless lectures on Dwarf history and Dwarf politics. One of the dogs came trotting over and sniffed her hand. Maybe he smelled the vixen beneath the human skin.
Valiant lowered his voice. ‘It’s the tomb of that King with the unpronounceable name. Kissmount or something. You know . . . the Witch Slayer.’
Jacob drained his glass. ‘Guismond?’
‘Yes. Whatever. All tip-top secret.’ Valiant waved at one of his servants and pointed at the empty wine bottle. ‘What do you think this is?’ the Dwarf barked at him. ‘Bring a new one.’
‘A lot of winemakers now spike their red wine with elven dust!’ he whispered to Jacob while the servant rushed off. ‘I wonder why they didn’t come up with that earlier. They keep Elves in cages. Hundreds of cages. Phenomenal!’ He raised his glass towards Jacob. ‘To modern times!’