Something strange was happening to Eli. Rey had never seen such a complex web for one human before. And that figure in the field…Rey tried to remember what he looked like and found he couldn’t even describe him.
Rey was just turning to send himself back when he heard a howling echo in the wind, and a heavy paw slammed down on his small body, shoving it into the grass. The wolf form of King Tristan took shape out of smoke and starlight, and Rey trembled as steam issued from behind his glistening teeth.
“You,” King Tristan said, as Rey squirmed to get out from under his paw. “You’re far from your new companion.”
“Oh, that’s just a lark,” Rey said, trying to keep his voice light. “Something to do with giving you back a sword? I was just looking, that’s all.”
“Of course. So charitable of you.” Tristan pressed down, and Rey wheezed as his ribs protested. “And why would you want to retrieve my sword? You’ve taken such pains to avoid me—hiding from the truth of what you could have become, perhaps, if you hadn’t been such a disappointment.”
Rey knew he was trembling, but he couldn’t help it. “Tristan?—”
King Tristan’s voice was a guttural growl. “What are you? A trickster? A thief? A little fox hiding from himself, trembling under my paw. You’re the kind of creature I would have hunted, once. Pathetic.”
“The boy said you’d owe me a favor,” Rey said. “And I know I’m…I’m a very small spirit.”
“Yes. You are.” Tristan’s claws started to extend, pricking Rey’s skin through his fur. “I could help you, when I return to my power. I could make it so no hunter seeks you again, and you can roam Staria untouched. A small favor, despite your cowardice, in honor of what you could have been once, if you’d been a true king.”
Rey looked into Tristan’s eyes, searching for something human there. “I’ve always been what I am. Just as you’ve always been what you are.”
Tristan let out a low rumble deep in his throat.
“I want one extra favor from you to see it done,” Tristan said. “De Valois, the one who seeks my sword. I know he has no love for me, and I suspect he thinks he can turn my sword against me. Stop him, and you will be rewarded.”
“Stop him? I don’t know if I can.”
Tristan loomed over him and coughed, and something wet fell over Rey’s chest. He shook it off, and a black, beadednecklace lay on the grass. “Lay that around his neck before he returns to me. The one who wears that necklace must obey the first order they are given. With your talents, it will be enough for Eli de Valois to kneel before my blade so that I may send him to rest and take my final justice against his line. You will do this, and I will ensure you have no reason to fear the wild places of Staria again.”
Rey knew, without being told, that if Eli took up the sword against him and failed anyway, Tristan would personally hunt him to the ends of the earth.
“I’ll do it,” Rey said at last. “But only if you spare him. Let him live.”
Tristan growled softly. “Very well. Then you’ll do it?”
“Yes,” Rey said, and his chest ached with the weight of it. “I’ll try.”
“See it done, little fox,” Tristan said, and his body blew apart in the wind, leaving Rey alone with the necklace.
At first, he thought he might just leave it there. Then he thought of Tristan coming back, of his hounds and spectral horses galloping over the skies of Staria, rending Eli to pieces.
He picked up the necklace gingerly with his teeth.
When he returned to Duciel, the sun was just starting to rise. Rey slunk into his cart and hid the necklace with his stash of coins, burying it deep enough that they disappeared in the mass of gold, copper, and silver. Then he slipped back into the house and went to the bathroom to change, ears burning with shame.
“You didn’t come to bed last night,” a voice said, and Rey jumped, dropping a tin of soap onto the floor. He scrambled to pick it up, and Eli leaned against the door frame, arms crossed. He looked haggard, eyes dark with lack of sleep or crying. His hair was a rumpled mess.
“I went out as a fox,” Rey said, which was technically true. “I lost track of time, sorry.”
“I thought maybe you left,” Eli said. “I wouldn’t blame you after the mess I’ve made of things.”
“You’re not making a mess,” Rey said, and cursed as he dropped the tin again. Eli picked it up for him, and Rey remembered the little girl sleeping with his cloth cap, the young woman he rescued from the cellar, the stories whirling and whispering through Staria. “It’s not too late, though. You can still run.”
“I know.” Eli set the tin back on the sink.
“But you won’t,” Rey said. “Will you?”
Eli just smiled grimly and turned back to the bedroom. Rey swallowed thickly, as though the necklace of beads were wound around his own neck.
Rey watched Eli as they navigated their morning routines. Eli always opened the window the moment he woke up, and he tended to take his breakfast outside while Rey fussed over Unicorn. He clearly felt more comfortable outdoors, and while he went through a series of frankly terrifying drills with his longsword in the narrow strip of garden behind the house, Rey started moving around their sparse garden furniture. He covered the table with a cloth from the cart, and set up the awning he only used when he pretended to open a shop out of his cart for the first time, which was striped and wobbled slightly as he wedged it in the grass.
