The East Wind straightens, adding to his imposing height, as the opening of his hood angles toward me. My body prickles beneatha scrutiny I’m unable to witness, can only feel in an uncomfortable crawling sensation across my scalp. “You seem surprised, brother,” he replies with a disturbing lack of emotion. “Isn’t that why you sent for me?”
“I thought you might have information about the labyrinth. I didn’t realize you were the one who put her here!” Notus roars. “How? How are you the Lord of the Mountain? How is any of this possible?” His fingers tear through the thick locks of his dark hair.
Hands behind his back, the East Wind begins to circle us, the hem of his cloak hissing along the gray stone underfoot. When he passes, the subtle scent of brine burns my nostrils. I ease closer to Notus, gaze wary. The suffering this god has put me through, put my family through, my realm. Absolutely disgusting.
“You lied to my father,” I snarl at Eurus. “He thought you were benevolent, that you would save my life in return for building the labyrinth to imprison the beast. But you took advantage of a desperate man. You stole our rains. Cursed me to die on my twenty-fifth nameday. Likely sent darkwalkers to Ammara as well.” My chin juts forward. “Do you deny it?”
“I cursed you to die?” He sounds curious.
“Yes,” I grit out. “Cursed to die by the prick of a thorn from black iris, except I was brought to the labyrinth instead. Why is that?” Tuleen’s suggestion of a possible mistranslation is strong, but I want evidence. Truth, from the deity who placed me here.
At last, the East Wind comes to a standstill. “I’m not sure what the king told you, but you weren’t cursed to die, Sarai Al-Khatib. You were cursed to become a sacrifice for the beast. Black iris was the vessel that drew you inside its walls, and now here you are. If you’re able to defeat the darkness of your heart, the labyrinth will let you walk free. Should you fail, however, you will remain trapped here for all eternity.”
“Youbastard.” The South Wind plants his feet, palm out, an explosive flurry flinging Eurus backward through the tunnel. Before his brother hits the ground, however, a pair of massive wings unfurl fromhis back, layered in minute ebon scales. I gasp. He alights on the balls of his feet, and the wings vanish.
“Calm, brother.” The East Wind lifts a hand, though does not sound apologetic in the least. “What is victory without it being earned?”
I rest a hand on Notus’ forearm. Taut muscle, rigid bone. Blow to blow, I am uncertain which brother would triumph. Eurus is certainly larger, bulkier, but he lacks any emotion at all, his demeanor eerily flat. Notus’ fury would drive him to victory.
“As for the rest of your concerns,” the East Wind says, “yes, I took your rains. Seeing as I control the rainstorms and their winds, it is well within my right, and I required that power for a time. But I had nothing to do with the darwalkers. Your father built the labyrinth on an area of land where the fabric between realms was thin. The location was unfortunate for you, but I had no say in it.”
Not only is Eurus pitiless beyond measure, he refuses to take accountability for his role in Ammara’s suffering. “And how long do you intend to keep our rains?” I press. “Our realm is dying. We can’t survive the drought indefinitely.”
He shrugs: easy come, easy go. “Until I no longer have need of them. It may be months. It may be years. That was the cost of your life, the price your father was willing to pay.”
On the contrary, King Halim was deceived. But I haven’t the time to argue semantics. “What of the darkness Prince Balior has unleashed?” I demand. “The beast hasn’t escaped yet, but it will, if the prince has anything to do with it. It has given a mortal man incredible power, and I fear the destruction it will bring. You’re the one who imprisoned the beast in the first place. The responsibility is in part yours.”
Though I can’t see the Lord of the Mountain’s eyes, I sense how they sharpen on me. “How do you know that?”
As if I owe him an answer. The East Wind may be Notus’ brother, but I don’t trust a hair on his head. “Where I acquired that information is none of your concern.”
“Eurus.” Notus is beseeching. “I have never asked you for anything. But I ask this of you now. Help us find a way out of the labyrinth. Helpus stop the beast from escaping. Help us defeat Prince Balior—before it’s too late.”
There is a stillness to the East Wind that suggests he cannot fathom such a thing. I question what sort of face rests within the darkness of his hood.
“Even if I wanted to, I cannot help you,” he replies. “The bargain was struck long ago. Your fate is in your own hands now.”
I’ve half a mind to rip back this god’s hood and stab him in the eyes. Amir and I have our battles, but I would never think to hold power over him. No wonder Notus rarely mentions Eurus. His brother is a complete ass.
“You don’t understand,” I say, my voice cracking. “As soon as the beast is free, it will have its revenge. Its darkness will spread. It will consume this realm, and all others after it.” Because a beast unfairly imprisoned for decades? It won’t stop at one god, one realm, one king.
“That is no concern of mine.” Though he does not sound as assured as he did.
I shake my head, teeth clamped around the flesh of my cheek. “Your brother is a piece of work,” I mutter to Notus.
His huff is nearly inaudible. I take it as agreement. “You really won’t help us?” he asks Eurus.
“As I said before, you must conquer the darkness of your heart if you wish to escape the labyrinth alive.”
“And how are we to do that?” Notus snaps.
The East Wind’s hood shifts in my direction. “Your destiny is not mine,” he says to me. “I cannot alter a path that is already laid.”
Does Eurus speak of a literal darkness that must be conquered? A physical manifestation? Something symbolic? And what sort of god would curse a helpless child anyway? One whose morals are lower than dirt.
Suddenly, a rumble fills the space. The earth quavers, and grit spits from the ceiling. The ground lurches. I catch myself against the wall. A heartbeat later, the Lord of the Mountain has vanished.
My pulse sprints forward as the gloom deepens. The ground wrenches open with a bone-shattering roar, a great crevasse opening underfoot. I stumble out of range. To my left, another massive crack gouges the labyrinth, and dust plumes the air.
