Trystan brought his hand up and touched his middle finger to his own lips. A hard lump rose in Trystan’s throat as he stared, brows pinched, heart aching for some unknown reason, at Emrys.
“In—” Trystan’s voice caught. He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out rough. “In the labyrinth, you and I were intimate.” He glanced at Marc, pressing his lips into a tight, apologetic line.
Worry filled Marc’s eyes, and his chest expanded with a slow, deep breath. Trystan turned his strained gaze back to Emrys.
“I fell in love with you, only you went by Myrddin. I called you Myr. We had a daughter—a little girl we’d taken in and raised together. I fell in love with her too. She isn’t here, but you are. I keep trying to convince myself it was all fabricated, but before I left, you—Myrddin—told me there ‘is much truth in what appears to be a lie.’”
“Trystan.”
“I am whole with Marc, in every sense, until the moment you enter my thoughts, and then my heart is torn. It’s as if I need you both. Why, Emrys?”
“That, Trystan, I do not know.” Emrys searched Trystan’s eyes. Guilt gnawed at his insides. Trystan likely had sensed his emotions through their connection, but Emrys needed him to stay on the path he’d already chosen.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
Emrys gave a long pause. “Trystan. Long ago, I fell in love with you, but I’m a guardian. I shouldn’t love you as I do, and you can’t choose me. You were meant to choose Marc, and you did. And you must stay that course.”
“How do you know? What if this is one of those choices you said I would have to make? You told me only I would know the right choice in those instances. You told me to follow my heart.” Angry tears blurred Trystan’s vision. He blinked them away, confused and upset. His voice softened. “How would you know I am meant to choose Marc and not you?”
“Marc is your cymara. Fate has paired you with him and him with you for the very reason we are here now, Trystan. To stop Morgaine from destroying this world. I know this for certain.”
Emrys cast a glance at Marc, ticking his eyes in a subtle gesture. An unspoken understanding passed between them.
“Trystan, look at me,” Marc said softly. He took Trystan’s hand, threading their fingers together.
Turning, Trystan tore his hurt gaze from Emrys and lifted his eyes to Marc’s. Marc cupped the side of Trystan’s face, his fingers stretching into his hair, and found himself mesmerized by pools of pale blue.
“Emrys is right,” Marc whispered, leaning in close. “But fate aside, I still choose you, and I will love you more fiercely than any man ever could.” Pause. “I know you love him, but I also you know love me.”
Marc held Trystan’s gaze, his eyes searching.
“I want you to choose me, but the choice is yours, Trystan. The choice will always be yours.”
Trystan’s eyes slipped closed as Marc’s lips brushed over his, and it was as if time froze. Impassioned warmth spread through him, making Trystan forget the world around them. Barring his dreams and his experiences in the labyrinth, Marc’s touch did something to him that no one else’s ever had. Marc’s touch was real. Perhaps Emrys was right. Perhaps he had made the right choice after all.
***
“I believe that is the cave entrance there.” Emrys pointed to a shallow cutout in one of the many towering trees.
Emrys stepped in first, followed by Marc. As Trystan followed behind, he caught movement out of the corner of his eye. Stopping, he looked over his shoulder. A pale blue butterfly flapped its wings and glided behind him. It flew a short distance and landed on small white flower that had grown on the trunk of a petrified tree. It was a moment of beauty and elegance in a harsh environment, and one that gave him hope that the forest might one day be restored.
“Trystan, are you coming?” Marc asked, breaking his momentary diversion.
“Yes,” he replied, tearing his eyes away from the butterfly and refocusing as he stepped into the cave.
“Be mindful of your footing. The steps are small and steep.”
They followed the narrow, stone staircase down into the darkness of the tunnels. At the bottom of the stairs, several dark tunnels branched off in various directions.
“How do we know which way to go from here?” Marc asked.
“These tunnels and caves, known as the Troelli Caverns, snake in many directions for many miles. One could easily be lost forever without a map… or a guide.” A wry smile teased the corners of Emrys’ mouth.
Emrys formed a blue fireball in his hand. He blew into the fire. It separated into a cluster of smaller flames then scattered in multiple directions, disappearing down the various tunnels. An eerie, blue glow emanated from one of the tunnels.
“That one.” Emrys moved toward the dimly lit corridor. “We must follow it.”
“Where will it lead us?” Trystan asked.
