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“It was only a matter of time before you gave yourself away.” His father’s voice burned with victory as someone pulled Fox from his closet.

He bucked, trying to throw the man off of him, but he only managed to get in a sharp elbow before someone punched him hard across the face. His teeth rattled and a sharp snap ran up his nose as blood streamed down his face. The guard behind him cuffed him quickly as the other went into the closet and pulled out the dragon’s feather and book, handing them to his father who stood nearby, smiling.

He hadn’t heard them come in, but his bedroom door was wide open. He was only thankful that the hallway was empty, his mother hopefully oblivious to what was happening.

His father tucked the feather into the book before he stepped up to Fox, his smile wide.

“The possession of this book and feather alone would have been enough to arrest you, but I can’t wait to see the chief commander’s face when I tell him you were using them for some heathen ritual.” He leaned down, breath hot against Fox’s face as he whispered for only him to hear. “Congratulations for proving me wrong for once. You’re not just worthless. You’re treasonous filth.”

Fox spit into his father’s face, satisfied when he reared back.

“I can’t wait to watch the life drain from your eyes when I finally get my chance to kill you, Father,” Fox said, venom in every word.

“You’re no son of mine. And I’ll kill you long before you get the chance to raise a sword against me.”

Fox lunged forward, but the man restraining him held tight and he let out a growl of frustration, teeth gnashing.

“An animal just like the rest of your dragon-filth allies,” his father said before he turned and motioned for the rest of the soldiers. “Let’s go.”

They dragged him out through the servants’ staircase, as if even his father didn’t want to face his wife’s reaction.

The night was dark, the blinking moons now crescents and the stars providing little in terms of light, but the gas lamps cast a warm glow across the street as they made their procession. Fox’s stomach gave a lurch of shame when he saw Ian coming up the street, his strides toward the manor faltering as they came into view under one of the lights.

“What’s going on? General?” he said, eyes sliding over Fox to the general.

“We have a traitor in our midst, it seems.”

“Sir?” Ian’s eyes flickered back to Fox, wide and unblinking.

“Tell the chief commander his presence is required at the prison. I’m over playing nice with these beasts.”

With that, his father continued their procession, leaving Ian blinking back at them for only a moment before he turned and ran for the chief commander’s house. Fox didn’t bother turning his head as he emptied his stomach onto the boots of the soldiers dragging him.

CHAPTERFORTY-FIVE

SOFIA

When Fox walked through the door to their prison hallway, Sofia thought the moment had come. He returned to ask about the prayer.

But Fox wasn’t alone. He was being dragged by two soldiers in full regalia, his face smeared with blood and his wrists in chains. Sofia’s stomach dropped, and she heard Flor let out a series of curses beside her as the general filed in behind them looking smug, as if arresting his son was his greatest triumph as a soldier.

They moved down the hall until they were directly in front of Sofia’s cell, the general piercing her with his gaze. She returned the glare with all the malice she could muster, refusing to back down despite the hammering of her heart.

“Arresting your son now? That’s a new low even for you,” she said, barely running her eyes over at Fox. A million things could have gone wrong. Either that or this was a trick. She needed to know.

He ignored her, turning to his men. “Throw him in with his whore.”

Sofia didn’t think, spitting out the bile that had been rising in her throat at the feet of the men.

One of the soldiers threw open the bars, grabbing her by the hair and tossing her back as the other shoved Fox in. His knees cracked on the stone floor as he fell and Sofia scrambled up, ready to claw at the soldiers even as they retreated behind the closed cell door.

“What are you playing at?” she said, snarling. “I don’t want this Dereyan scum in here with me.”

A moment later, the general pulled a feather and a book from beneath his jacket, dropping them on the ground in front of her cell. The cover was faded and stained, impossible to read, but the feather said enough.

Sofia had placed her trust in the right person, after all. And yet everything she’d worked for had still imploded.

“I found my son performing some heathen ritual against the king and true god with thisthing,” the general said. “The chief commander is already on his way to decide the next steps.” He stepped forward, leaning just far enough away she wouldn’t be able to strangle him through the bars. “It’s obvious you aren’t giving up the information we need. Time to make an example of what happens when you work against the king.”