CHAPTER 9

The trail carried the same sharp metallic bitterness that had clung to the puppet assassin’s skin. Elowen followed it through the palace corridors with Corvin close behind him. Two guards kept a respectful distance several steps back. Their silence felt heavy, as if they knew better than to disturb whatever the king and the fox were hunting.

Elowen paused at a fork in the corridor. The scent seemed to gather in the air like a thin strand of smoke.

“Here,” he murmured.

Corvin stepped closer. “Which way?”

Elowen lifted his nose slightly. “Right.”

They continued down a narrower hallway that held little foot traffic. The light dimmed. Tapestries hung heavy and undisturbed. Dust lingered on the edges of the floor, as if this wing had fallen out of use long before Corvin’s reign.

“Who comes here?” Elowen asked.

“Few,” Corvin said. “It is mostly old storage rooms, and some council chambers from my grandfather’s time. Most corridors here remain locked unless a servant needs them.”

“So someone chose this place for secrecy.”

“Yes.”

The scent grew stronger, layered with burnt herbs and something faintly iron-like. Elowen pushed open a door with a faded crest and stepped inside a small, stale room. Dust lay thick on everything. A cracked borderlands map clung to the wall. In the far corner near a narrow window slit, a scorch mark blackened the stone.

Elowen crouched. “This is recent. Someone cast a spell here.”

Corvin knelt beside him. “What kind of spell?”

“Contained magic,” Elowen said. “Short-lived. There is no flare nor lingering power. Whoever cast it wanted to avoid attention.”

Corvin frowned. “Communication?”

“Possibly, or a masking charm meant to hide something.”

Elowen pressed his fingers lightly to the scorch mark. The residue felt wrong, it was cold, almost hollow.

“This is not shifter magic,” he said. “It is not natural magic at all. It feels like something borrowed.”

Corvin studied him in silence. “Borrowed from where?”

“From someone who does not care what happens to the vessel they use,” Elowen said.

Corvin stood slowly. His expression hardened. “Someone used this room as a staging point. Someone inside my palace.”

Elowen looked around again. “The trail ends here. Whoever left this scent cleaned their tracks on the way out.”

“But you can recognize it if you find it again,” Corvin said.

“Yes.”

“Then keep watching. If you sense it on anyone, you tell me immediately.”

Elowen held his gaze. “And you trust that I will?”

“I trust that you know what happens to traitors,” Corvin said. “To mine, and to yours.”

The tension between them tightened like a pulled bowstring.

Corvin stepped away from the scorched wall. “Come. There is nothing more here.”

As they left the room, Elowen felt the weight of something unseen settle between his shoulders. Whoever had cast that spell had moved freely here. They would not stop simply because one puppet had failed.

By noon, palace life had resumed its usual rhythm, but the tension beneath it was unmistakable. Guards stood more rigidly. Servants whispered in corners. The nobles moved as if expecting danger to leap from behind every tapestry.

Elowen walked around an inner balcony overlooking a minor hall. He leaned on the railing and watched the movement below. A steady stream of attendants crossed the floor. Light from the tall windows painted long beams across polished stone.

He heard the approaching footsteps before he turned.

Mage Theon stopped beside him. His grey robes brushed softly against the floor.

“You seem comfortable here,” Theon said. “Almost settled.”

Elowen smirked. “Do you want me to sit in a cage instead?”

“I expect you to stay alert,” Theon answered. “There are eyes on you from every direction.”

“I noticed.”

Theon’s attention drifted to the hall below. “It is interesting, though. The king seems to look at you more often than he realizes.”

Elowen did not respond.

Theon continued, “When he saved the southern provinces ten years ago, he trusted no one. He watched every general twice. Now he stands beside a fox captured for espionage.” His tone remained mild. “People talk.”

“People always talk,” Elowen said.

Theon folded his hands. “I know more about you than most. Your name comes up in certain defensive reports. ‘The fox who stole a governor’s ledger.’ ‘The fox who slipped into a fortress.’ There are stories.”

“Stories grow when no one stops them.”

“Some grow because they are true.”

Elowen gave him a sideways glance. “What are you trying to say?”

“That you were not sent here at random,” Theon said. “Your leaders chose someone skilled enough to bypass wards that should have kept you out. Someone who does not break easily, and is extremely clever.”

Elowen said nothing.

Theon turned his head. “You protected the king. That matters, but it does not erase your mission.”

Elowen smiled faintly. “Is this a warning, Theon?”

“It is an observation,” Theon said. “You are a puzzle. I prefer to know which way a blade is pointed.”

“Does Corvin think I am a blade?”

“I think he knows. The question is whether you turn one day.”

Elowen rested his arms on the railing. “Your king is not easy to kill.”

“Few have come close.” Theon’s voice softened. “He reacts differently around you. It is not my place to interpret that, but I notice what magic touches. Crown Sight bends when you approach. It does not do that for anyone else.”

Elowen’s fingers tightened slightly on the stone. He kept his voice even. “Maybe the Sight dislikes shifters.”

“It dislikes lies,” Theon said calmly.

Before Elowen could respond, quick footsteps approached from the far end of the balcony. A palace page hurried toward them, breathless.

“Lord Elowen.” The boy held out a folded scrap of parchment. “A servant at the western gate said this was for you.”

Elowen took it without hesitation. “You may go.”

The page fled after a brief bow.

Theon watched closely.

Elowen opened the message.

The fox forgets the forest when he curls on the hearth. Do not forget the fire waiting beyond these walls. Your time grows short.

The handwriting belonged to no specific person, but the symbol in the corner marked it clearly. The eastern tribes, his tribes.

Elowen’s blood warmed, then cooled sharply. They were watching him. They believed he was growing too comfortable, and they wanted results.

He folded the note. “Nothing important.”

“It looked important,” Theon said.

“It was not.”

Theon observed him for a long moment. “Secrets weigh on a man. Even a fox.”

Elowen’s jaw tightened. “This is not your concern.”

“It becomes my concern when your secrets drift toward the king,” Theon replied.

Elowen pocketed the note. “I will handle my own messages.”

“Will you tell him?” Theon asked. “He trusts you more than he should.”

Elowen stepped away from him. “That is his problem.”

Theon called after him. “The truth always reveals itself. Crown Sight or not, the magic sees more than you think.”

Elowen did not turn back. “Let the magic look. It will find only what I allow.”

He walked deeper into the corridor. His steps slowed only when he found a quiet alcove. The torch beside him flickered gently. He pulled the parchment out again and read the last line.

Your time grows short.

His people expected progress. They expected infiltrated information, sabotage, something that weakened Corvin’s hold. They would not accept delays. They never had.

Elowen lifted the parchment to the flame.

The paper curled as fire touched it. The edges blackened and folded inward. Ash drifted from his fingers. The flame consumed every word.

When nothing remained, Elowen brushed his hands clean.

He stepped out of the alcove.

Corvin stood at the corridor’s end.

His gaze swept from the fading ash on the wall to the empty space where Elowen’s hands rested at his sides.

“Elowen,” Corvin said calmly. “Are you in the habit of setting fires in palace alcoves?”

“Only small ones,” Elowen answered.

Corvin walked toward him. “What did you burn?”

“Something that did not matter.”

“Did someone send you a message?”

Elowen kept his tone steady. “People send messages all the time. Most are worthless.”

Corvin stopped close enough for the air between them to thicken. He searched Elowen’s face with quiet intensity.

“You are lying,” Corvin said.

Elowen held his gaze evenly. “I did not hide anything that concerns your kingdom.”

“That is not the same thing,” Corvin replied.

A current passed between them, dangerous and aware.

Corvin finally stepped back. “Theon is looking for you. He believes studying your energy might reveal something about last night’s magic.”

“I am not a sample.”

“No,” Corvin said softly. “You are a fox who keeps burning things he does not want me to see.”

He turned away before Elowen could respond.

Elowen exhaled, slow and controlled. He followed Corvin down the corridor, aware of the ash still clinging faintly to his fingertips, aware of the hidden path he walked between loyalty to his people and something far more dangerous growing inside these walls.

The fire of the forest had not died, but the warmth of the hearth was becoming harder to ignore daily.