“Ah,” he rasped. “You want to hear about the Sun Fox, child? Hah. Then listen well, for it is no tale for the faint of heart… nor the greedy.”

  My Steppe Bite arrived with a muted thunk, the clay cup sloshing faintly as it hit the table. I wrapped my hand around it, feeling the warmth seep into my skin, the sharp scent of fermented herbs and fruit biting my nose.

  The man began.

  “Long ago, before Altandai grew fat on trade and slaves, there was a forest along the North River. Old trees, older than any city, drinking light by day and holding secrets by night. The peasants whispered that the forest was guarded by a fox with fur of firelight… its tail shining like the dawn, its eyes bright enough to blind liars.”

  Yuki shifted closer, her breath catching with every word.

  “They called it the Sun Fox,” he continued, “a spirit born of the first sunrise, when light banished the world’s shadows. Wherever it stepped, the trees grew taller, the rivers ran clearer, and no man dared raise an axe.”

  He paused to sip his own drink; the froth left a foam mustache across his lip. He licked it away with a smile full of yellow teeth.

  “But Altandai had other plans. The Green and White Houses hungered for farmland, for timber, for firewood to heat their halls. At first, the workers came with axes. They vanished. Then soldiers came with steel. They came back blind, raving about endless mirages, phantom flames, and a fox that split into a dozen blazing shapes. No one could tell which was real until it was too late.”

  I nursed my drink, finally daring a sip. The Steppe Bite hit like a hammer; bitterness, fire, and an almost meaty undertone, sharp enough to make my eyes water.

  I fought it down, every nerve in my throat screaming no, and slammed the cup back onto the table.

  Victory.

  I swallowed triumph with the drink, straightening my back like it hadn’t nearly killed me. The old man’s eyes flicked to me, amused, but he kept weaving the tale.

  “The Sun Fox wielded light not just as an attack, but as an illusion… turning day into a labyrinth, bending shadows into spears, wrapping itself in radiance until swords passed harmlessly through. It fought not for conquest, but for balance, for its forest.”

  Yuki’s hands flew to her cheeks, her eyes shimmering. Her light magic, restless, sparked faintly along her hair, tiny motes flickering like fireflies. She whispered, awestruck, “Balance…”

  “At last,” the old man said, lowering his voice until even I leaned closer to catch it, “the Grandmaster of the White Dragon House came. At the time, he was a man whose light magic was said to rival the sun itself. He battled the fox for three days and three nights beneath the blinding radiance of its illusions. Some say he slew it. Others say the fox dissolved into pure light, leaving only silence behind.”

  His fingers curled around his mug, knuckles white. “But the Grandmaster returned scarred, half-blind, and unwilling to claim victory. And the forest? It fell soon after, cut to stumps. Yet Altandai never again tried to farm that land… the soil turned barren, as if the fox had cursed it with its last breath. To this day, it remains a stretch of pale wasteland. Useless. Quiet.”

  Yuki exhaled slowly, her eyes shimmering brighter than the glow of the torches lining the wall. “It… it’s real. I know it is,” she whispered, hugging her book tightly against her chest. “The Sun Fox must still be there.”

  The old man’s smile deepened, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing like folded parchment. “Ah, but listen, child,” he said. “Bloodlines do not vanish. A spirit like that—light given will, illusion given claws—does not die. No, its essence lingers, waiting for one worthy enough to bear it.”

  Yuki froze, her starry-eyed smile widening as though he’d just handed her a prophecy. Little sparks of light flickered over her skin, responding instinctively to her excitement.

  The man’s voice dropped further. “They say if you go north of Altandai, to the barren stretch along the river where nothing grows, and wait until the first rays of dawn, you may see it. A shimmer. A tail of light. A vulpine shadow dancing at the edge of your vision. Follow it, and you walk into the Fox’s Labyrinth, an illusion-world stitched from the Sun Fox’s last breath.”

  Yuki’s hands clutched the table edge. “The Fox’s… Labyrinth,” she whispered, like the words themselves were holy.

  He nodded once, slowly, as though sealing the truth of it. “But beware. The Labyrinth tests. It will strip away lies, expose weakness, and scatter the unworthy. Many go in chasing glory. Few return, and those who do… are not unchanged.”

  I lifted my Steppe Bite, let the sharp scent of it sting my nose, and took another burning gulp.

  The bitterness clawed at my throat, but I swallowed it down, pressing the cup back onto the table with steady fingers. My lips twisted into a grin I didn’t entirely feel. “Guess foxes really don’t make things easy.”

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Yuki didn’t laugh. She sat there glowing, her light magic shimmering faintly like dawn on the horizon, as if a piece of the legend had already chosen her. The old man leaned back, his smile still carved across his face, and raised his own drink in a silent toast to the story, to the fox.

  I fixed Yuki with what I hoped was a stern, queenly look, though my insides still felt like frayed string. “Yuki. We have… a plan for the morning, right?”

  Her wide eyes blinked at me, unfocused for a moment as if she’d only just remembered I was there. Then she smiled, distracted, strands of her hair glowing faintly where her light magic flickered. “I know, Queen, but…” Her voice trailed off, and the glow in her hair pulsed brighter. “Fox bloodline?”

  The words were half-question, half-plea.

  I exhaled through my nose, feeling the sting of Steppe Bite still burning a trail down my throat. “Yuki, I can’t stop you. But do you know what’s at stake? Just one more day. Wait one day…” My tone cracked at the edges, more tired than commanding.

  Her mouth opened, ready to argue, but then she blinked, processing. “I thought… oh.” Her lips parted in surprise, then curled into a grin as realization dawned. “That makes sense then! We won’t be leaving then… yes!” Her nods came quickly and eager, as if she’d solved a riddle no one else understood.

  The server arrived just then, balancing a tray. I told him simply that the old man could drink—reasonably—on my tab. The man cackled quietly into his mug, already savoring victory. I pushed back from the bench; the wood creaking under my weight, and gave Yuki a small smile that was half warning, half affection. Then I excused myself, climbing the stairs one deliberate step at a time.

  My room awaited… familiar shadows, the scent of old wood… for the last time.

  The second I felt my body sink into the Earth mattress, I nearly groaned out loud. Soft. Supportive. Just the right give beneath my shoulder blades. It was like drinking a perfectly chilled whiskey after trudging through the desert.

  I stretched my toes against the sheets, the fabric cool and smooth, then pulled them back under the weight of the blanket. My whole body sighed without my permission.

  “Jerry,” I mumbled into my pillow, letting my limbs melt like wax. “One quick nap.”

  The band on my wrist buzzed gently, Jerry’s tone chiming through the haptic pulse. “Understood. Meanwhile, I will decode the meaning of the latest dream.” I didn’t need to sleep; I could just meditate. But… this wasn’t about needs, but wants.

  I chuckled sleepily, eyelids already too heavy to bother opening. “Haha, you do that, and I’ll be fresh!”

  The mattress cradled me; the warmth seeped into my skin, and within moments I slid into that blissful in-between where the world dulled, and everything was just comfort and silence.

  Darkness crept in at the edges of my vision, heavy and sweet. I drifted.

  A gentle pressure tugged me back. Someone shook my shoulder, soft enough not to jar but firm enough that my drifting brain knew it wasn’t part of the dream. My lashes fluttered open reluctantly.

  Lola.

  Her face hovered over mine, framed by her tidy hair, every line of her expression radiating calm patience. She gave me that smile… the warm one she usually reserved for when she caught me being particularly human.

  “Lady,” she mumbled. “It is time for the briefing.”

  I blinked up at her, groggy. The light in the room was different now, brighter, crisp afternoon rays sneaking through the blinds. My jaw cracked around a yawn. “What?”

  Her smile deepened, dimples pressing. “You slept again instead of meditation?”

  I tried to shake my head, rubbing at my eyes like that might erase the guilt. “No?”

  She burst into laughter. Before I could even scowl, she leaned down and wrapped me in a hug, squeezing once like she was proud of me for being caught. “The meeting is in twenty minutes,” she said into my ear before straightening up and already stepping away.

  Twenty minutes? That phrase finally penetrated the fog. I sat bolt upright, sheets tangling around my legs. “Wait! What should I wear?”

  She was already halfway to the door, cool and collected as always. “I left your new cosplay in the box,” she tossed back. The door closed behind her with that maddening click, leaving me in the wake of her efficiency.

  “Box?” I muttered, whipping my head around.

  Jerry buzzed, the band on my wrist giving a directional pulse. “On the ground, left side.”

  I slid off the mattress, nearly tripping over the sheets that clung to me like a needy grandmaster’s vines, and crouched. Sure enough, a sleek black box sat neatly beside the bed. I flipped the lid open… and froze.

  A dress.

  Not just any dress. A navy blue dress so intense and luxurious it looked like it had a personal vendetta against subtlety. The fabric gleamed faintly in the light as water but was structured enough to fall in perfect lines. A fitted bodice, flared skirt, understated silver embroidery at the hem.

  Fancy.

  But was it twenty minutes getting inside fancy? I grabbed it by the hanger and held it up, scandalized. “LOLA!” I shouted, fumbling for my comm, but Jerry was ahead of me, already calling her. “What’s this cosplay?! Isn’t this meeting all business?”

  Her voice crackled in with just enough delay to make her smugness palpable. A giggle spilled first, light and dangerous. “Doesn’t mean you can’t look fabulous.”

  Then she ended the call before I could unleash a rebuttal.

  I stared at the holo-screen, then let my head fall back with a groan. “Since my intervention, Lola grew bold,” I muttered, shaking the dress at Jerry as if he could share the indignity.

  The band buzzed again, his voice calm. “She has also found a superior solution for the Altandai sewer engagement. I am ashamed.”

  I snorted, despite the panic still gnawing at my ribs. “Oh, don’t be. She’s just showing off.”

  But the truth was, he was right. Ever since that moment I’d officially named her Seneschal and showed the crowd, something in Lola had shifted. She was still the same meticulous operator, the clipboard queen of logistics and order… but now there was fire under it.

  Boldness.

  She laughed more. She teased me. She pushed decisions forward instead of waiting for me to agonize over them. She was… scary effective.

  And now she was dressing me like a political debutante.

  I sighed, brushing my hand over the navy fabric. It shimmered faintly under my fingers, smooth, and—damn it—very much my color.

  “Jerry,” I said, dragging the hanger toward the wardrobe mirror. “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”

  The band vibrated gently. “Likelihood: 87%. But you will look statistically impressive.”

  I laughed despite myself, shaking my head. My reflection in the mirror was still rumpled from sleep, hair sticking out in every wrong direction, eyes half-lidded from fatigue.

  Behind that, the dress gleamed like temptation.

  The mattress still whispered my name, promising comfort, but the world outside demanded Queen Corporate owner Charlie instead of tired bed Queen Charlie. With a deep breath, I set the hanger down and started pulling myself together… yawning, muttering, still wondering how Lola had so easily taken the wheel of my life.

  At least I’d had my nap.