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Chapter Twenty Six: Fierce

Chapter 26: Fierce

Jace “Quickshot” Leál

“Renn the Renard at your service!” The giant fox—Renn—spoke out loud, even though her mouth only opened slightly and the mechanics were anything but what they were in her human form.

Ayla slunk on the bed, a mix of shock and relief settling in her face as her perspective shifted. “You’re a Fox Spirit.”

“Not really.” Renn lay on the floor, crossing her paws lazily in front of her. “My great grandfather perhaps. We’ve been half breeds for generations. My own mother was human.” She shrugged a shoulder—a strange gesture on a fox. “Not that most people can tell the difference. Not even the elves.”

I cleared my throat. No manner of surprise would change the situation. I should probably focus on understanding. “So your father is also…”

“Of course!” Renn said, teasing sounding annoyed but not. “Didn’t the hair give it away?” She licked a paw and ran it over one ear.

I’d never met a proper spirit nor a half breed. I did meet a very hairy man who said he was a wolf man once. He was a bartender in Valenheim. Claimed he was part of a top secret experiment gone bad. It could have been true—though it was just as likely he was simply a man born with too much hair. I knew proper were-people existed. But fox kin had always been the stuff of legends and folktales. Usually about a rich man getting seduced and robbed blind.

As if she’d read my mind, Renn laughed and her tail—tails; she had two—gently swayed. “You should look at your faces. Jace, I promise only half the stories you’ve heard about foxes are true.” She winked. “Now that we’ve both revealed some secrets, I think I’ll—“

Her fur began to exude that same orange mist, but before I could witness the transformation in reverse, Ayla slapped me with her good hand and threw me on the bed, having apparently regained enough of her faculties to defend my honor.

Some time later, I’d finished extracting pellets from Ayla’s wounds—three in the shoulder, one in the neck, one in the cheek, and four in the scalp. Ayla was sluggish and exhausted by the time we were done. It took some coaxing, primarily on behalf of Renn—who she no longer saw as an immediate threat. They left for Renn’s private bath downstairs, while I stayed behind to towel-wash the boy.

I wondered what we would do with him once we recovered. Was the plan to take him with us? Would Ayla bring him into an enclave? I doubted it. Most likely she hadn’t thought that far ahead. Not that I had much of a leg to stand on. After all, I hadn’t thought it through when I rescued Ayla—but that hadn’t stopped me from accepting responsibility anyway.

Ayla had given me a very brief rundown of her rescue of Silas, the kidnappers, etc. I wished she would have asked me for help, but the air of pride with which she told the story about rescuing him on her own was only outshone by the trembling and guilt she felt at having to kill, even though the men deserved it. She complained that she couldn’t understand why she had those feelings when she’d never felt them before.

So I only listened. I explained that often there was no sense to make of our own emotions. Simply to accept them. When she asked me how that was done, I answered honestly. “I don’t know.”

My thoughts drifted back to Renn. What else wasn’t she telling us? I always suspected she was hiding things, but I’d assumed they wouldn’t be any harm since they didn’t concern us. Perhaps I’d been wrong.

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Did her secrets have anything to do with why Prospero assigned the colonel to our caravan, and me to protect him? Was it really her he was interested in and not me?

I had too many questions. I needed to get her alone and soon—before we set out for the north.

The boy’s carbuncle stirred from its nap and looked up at me with particularly intelligent eyes. It studied me, head to toe. Then, as if finding me acceptable, it offered a slight nod then curled back to sleep.

That was another mystery. I didn’t think these creatures could be found in an urban setting. The last time I saw a carbuncle, it was screeching in a display cage in a general’s office. It would have gotten left behind during the evacuation. Man, was that asshole pissed when I kicked it open on our way out.

I’d just finished dressing the kid in the clothes Renn brought over—surprisingly boyish clothes that were only slightly big on him—and tucked him in my bed. When the door to my room opened. Renn walked in first, holding a tray of biscuits and fruit and a pitcher of tea. Ayla followed wearing a blue robe that flowed like water and complimented her deep blue eyes, just barely visible under her hood.

“Well, go on.” Renn said, impatiently. “I wanna see what he says! It’s my best work, I swear.”

My eyes narrowed, uncertain what she was talking about. Then, hesitantly, Ayla removed her hood.

Her injuries were all still dressed, adhesive bandages covering her wounds. While tending to her scalp wounds, however, there had been a lot of hair I needed to cut. Apparently, Ayla had asked Renn to help fix it.

Ayla’s hair was now cut short, her soft curls spilling down her face to about her chin. There was a vulnerability in her eyes that together with her new look sent shivers down my spine.

“It looks that awful?” Ayla asked.

“What? No! I—that is to say, of course it looks…agh!” I tripped over myself apologizing and fumbling for the right words before Ayla’s smirk revealed she was…teasing me?

I felt my cheeks grow hot and I shut my mouth.

Ayla combed a strand of hair behind her injured ear and flinched. Her right ear had been clipped badly, like a small creature had taken a bite out of it. It would be like that from now on,unless a healer as talented as Ayla, and with the magic for it, restored it. Something told me that was unlikely to happen. She might even refuse to do it even if she had the choice. She had said as much, calling her wounds a badge of honor.

Ayla chuckled tiredly and sighed. “I’ll sleep here tonight. I will not have Silas wake and find that his only company is a stinking oaf like you.”

Reflexively, I sniffed myself. It wasn’t that bad, was it?

“Fine. You can have it.” I headed to the door and stopped in front of her. Our eyes met. And for a long moment we just gazed into each other’s souls. “You look…fierce.” I would have said beautiful, which she was. But that would not capture what she was—who she was becoming in my eyes.

Ayla’s was a self satisfied smile that said I had chosen my words well. “Good night, gunslinger.”

I beckoned Renn to follow me and I shut the door behind us. “Renn, I’ll walk you to your room. There is much we need to discuss.”

“Aw, now listen here, mister.” Renn pouted. “First you need to tell me what a great job I did. That haircut was better than ‘fierce’” Renn raised her hands and curled fingers into air quotes around the word. “What kind of a compliment is that for a beautiful woman? Do you know nothing, smelly oaf?”

I cast a sideways glance at Renn. I could tell she was being clever. She knew perfectly well how Ayla had taken that compliment. So I ignored her, and in her room—which was surprisingly luxurious in this otherwise modest caravanserai—I found Cornelius was also waiting for me, drink in hand, an intense set of eyes faintly shining an ominous orange. The other members of the merchant company's defense team were also in evidence, standing along the back wall; they stared at me just as intently.

Cornelius was more serious and intimidating than I had ever seen him, and for the first time, I realized how much of the personality he presented to the world was a complete fabrication. “Branded Soul, was that your high working that I felt burning upstairs like a beacon to our enemies? I thought you of all people would have more sense.”

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