Page 98 of Wench

For a long while, there is only silence. Her spirit feels stretched, as if something vast has settled inside her without hollowing her out.

Finally, Marian whispers, stomach knotting, ‘He’ll come for us again.’

Lox stiffens but doesn’t release her. His voice is dark velvet, frayed at the edges. ‘The Sheriff?’

She nods and swallows, turning her face into the curve of his throat. ‘Men like him don’t stop. They hunger until they choke. He’ll come for us, again and again. And if not him, another in his place.’

‘Let them come. We’ll meet them.’

She shakes her head faintly, then pulls back to search his gaze. ‘Not just meet them. Outwit them. Strip them. Bleed them of coin and power until they starve on their own greed. If he steals from us, we’ll steal from him – his coffers, his soldiers, his people.’ She takes Lox’s hand, presses it to her cheek. ‘And not just for the fae, but for the humans who suffer under his levies too. I want to be the Heartkeeper for all of them.’

A slow, dangerous smile unfurls across his mouth. ‘You would rob the Sheriff? Strip his purse to feed both sides of the forest?’

Her lips curve with a wicked fierceness. ‘Steal from the rich and give back to the forgotten. Not for glory, but for balance.’

Lox kisses her as if sealing a vow. ‘That sounds like a tale that will live longer than we do, little fox.’

‘One can only hope,’ she murmurs, flicking her tongue against the tip of his nose playfully.

The forest swells around them in agreement, damp and reborn, as if revelling in the birth of a legend.