“About how their telepathy works,” she said. “You’ll be encountering foxes during your stay, so it’s important to understand. You don’t need to fear their intrusion, for a fox can’t understand your thoughts or words at all, unless it’s bonded to you. A fox might choose to bond to you in the course of your visit—it’s unlikely, but possible—but if so, the fox will tell you. And then, it’s like human conversation. They’ll know what you tell them, and you’ll know what they tell you. You won’t be able to see into each other’s souls, or any such nonsense, but if you need a letter delivered or want to know if your staff is dawdling, they can be useful. It’s quite straightforward. At least, this is the common knowledge about foxes. None has ever bonded to me, so I can’t speak to how it feels. Do you want one to bond to you?” she asked abruptly.

“Not particularly,” said Giddon.

“Congratulations,” said Quona. “You’re the only person in Winterkeep who doesn’t, perhaps besides me. I prefer my cats. But maybe, as you come to understand the importance of blue foxes here, you’ll change your mind. I’m told they are loyal, obedient, and unbribable by your enemies. If you do change your mind, give them treats. They’re pleasure-seekers.”

Hava seemed to rouse herself. “Aren’t you an animal doctor?” she asked Quona, leaning forward with her chin in her hand. She did that sometimes—rarely—when she wanted to challenge someone with the strangeness of her mismatched eyes. She blinked at Quona, copper and red.

Quona met her gaze. “Yes. I have an advanced degree in animal medicine,” she said. “It’s also my academic subject. I teach Winterkeep’s brightest future animal doctors.”

“And isn’t your sister the prime minister of Winterkeep? Doesn’t your family usually go into politics?”

Quona flashed a toothy smile. “Absolutely,” she said. “Politics, or airships.”

“Why didn’t you go into politics or airships? Don’t you like your family?”

“Hava!” said Froggatt in a scandalized tone, his first contribution to the conversation. Poor Froggatt. Giddon guessed he’d been crying this morning too; his eyes were puffy.

“Don’t you ‘Hava’ me,” Hava snarled at him.

“Hava,” said Giddon tiredly, before he could stop himself.

“Oh, Hava asks a valid question,” said Quona. “I am, without a doubt, not what my family hoped I would be. I’m about as qualified to be a politician or an airship magnate as I would guess you are, Hava, to be Queen of Monsea.”

Quona had no idea that Hava, like Bitterblue, was the daughter of King Leck, but it was the sort of offhand remark that could send Hava running. Giddon glanced at Hava nervously.