Serin tilted his head toward Elena, his voice dropping to a murmur for the knights’ benefit. Elena remained silent, a strange paralysis gripping her.
“Did you really think we’d let you get away with it if you pretended not to notice? How long are we going to have to risk our lives for the likes of you? I thought you were dead, captured by that damned demon.” The words echoed in her mind, spoken just before the White Fox attack.
Those incomprehensible phrases remained buried deep within her. Unable to share them with anyone, a suffocating dread replaced the joy of encountering those who recognized her. She couldn’t comprehend their hostility, nor had she been given the chance. Back then, she could only register the bewilderment of their anger directed solely at her.
The feeling persisted. The reason for their attack was as much a mystery as their murderous hatred. The thought of confiding in Serin and Kennard crossed her mind, yet she found herself unable to articulate the events of that day. Their words felt like a suffocating grip around her throat. And with Kennard’s reluctance to discuss the incident, Elena opted to keep her silence, albeit with a hopeful longing that Kennard wouldn’t suffer because of her.
The arrival of Hazel, Kennard’s betrothed, at the castle found Elena wrestling with a difficult decision. Despite the Duke’s fearsome reputation, an undeniable fondness for him had bloomed within her. But the painful reality of his arranged marriage settled heavy, a constant reminder of her own misplaced feelings. The potential to further complicate his life became the deciding factor; Elena steeled herself to leave the castle.
“I couldn’t do anything,” she mumbled, the words more a description of her situation than an answer to Serin’s question.
Serin offered a sympathetic shrug. “I understand. In that moment, there were limited options.” He paused, as if carefully choosing his next words. “There’s something you need to know. The White Fox Tribe…they’re targeting you.”
Elena’s heart plummeted. Did Serin have an inkling of the Tribe’s motives for attacking her? Yet, he made no mention of their cryptic words. Confusion gnawed at her.
“What…did you discover?” she managed, voice barely above a whisper.
“Details are scarce for now,” Serin hedged. “The current situation makes traveling to the village unwise. It would be best not to test the Duke’s patience further.”
“But surely the White Fox Tribe wouldn’t venture that far,” Elena protested.
“We can’t be certain. There are remnants of the Tribe still residing in Terra Demorte, those who chose not to flee. They live under the watchful eyes of the Wolf Tribe from Montefiano.”
Surprise flickered across Elena’s face. “What? The war didn’t drive them all out?”
Serin nodded, a furrow creasing his brow as he crossed his arms and rubbed his chin, perhaps lost in a memory of that conflict. “Winning a war doesn’t mean you have to throw them all out. Some refused to abandon their ancestral lands. The Duke, however, would have preferred a complete eradication.”
Serin furrowed his brow, tracing his finger along his chin as the memory surfaced. “Let me tell you, it wasn’t easy convincing him not to wipe them all out. The man can be ruthless.”
Despite his words, a gentle smile tugged at Serin’s lips. Even without saying it, Elena understood the deep respect and loyalty Serin held for Kennard. It was almost enviable, the way Serin effortlessly stood by the Duke’s side.
A pang of guilt shot through Elena. These are not the thoughts I should be having, she chastised herself.
“There’s always the chance some are collaborating with their kin outside,” Serin continued, his gaze lingering on Elena with a knowing glint.
“Rumors of Fox sightings near the border forest are rampant. Imagine if you were in the village and they attacked.”
A vivid memory assaulted Elena. The feral glint of eyes, the searing pain that ripped through her as the White Fox Tribe descended upon her, fangs bared and ready to tear. She squeezed her eyes shut, a tremor running through her. Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around herself, seeking a semblance of comfort.
A gentle hand settled on her trembling shoulder. Serin’s touch, though light, seemed to anchor her. Slowly, Elena peeked up at him, eyes blinking away the afterimages of the attack.
“If you’re so afraid,” he said, “why consider going to the village at all?”
Elena’s voice shook slightly. “I… I didn’t know any of the White Fox Tribe were still living there.”
“Did Leto not mention it?”
She shook her head, the realization dawning. Leto’s descriptions had been filled with details of lively taverns and relaxing hot springs, devoid of any mention of a lingering Fox presence.
