I stare at the flames, fury burning within me.
I was so focused on freeing them all that I lost her.
Lannia saw Rhykus’s men drag Kari into the Labyrinth. It feels like a recurrent dream, and I see an image of my sister, screaming as she’s plucked from the ground by the monster.
I need to find her tracks. It shouldn’t be difficult. But how many men does Rhykus have with him?
And will the fucking Labyrinth keep twisting and turning, hiding those precious signs? I’ll have to move quickly if I’m to have any chance at finding her. But to do that I need supplies.
I steal a sword off a dead man, then haul a set of boots off some merchant prince who looks to have delicate feet somewhat similar in size to mine. Bodies decorate the flagstones in front of the manor, and as I work I realize some of the creepers that cling to the maze walls have started to crawl toward us.
Or the bodies, to be honest.
A vine snags around a man’s boot, jerking him back toward a thicket of leaves. It’s only as my eyes adjust that I realize there are… shapes pinned to the walls, leaves and vines wrapped tight around them. One of those shapes move as if there’s something still alive in there. A skull leers at me from another mound, long since picked clean.
I swallow. It’s definitely past time to get out of here.
“Here,” says a familiar voice behind me. “You’re going to need these.”
“Malus’ thorns,” I hiss, spinning around. “Could you warn a girl before you sneak up on her?”
Bael strolls toward me, moving on cat-quiet feet, which is strangely unnerving in such a big man. His dark hair blows back off his face, revealing those stark cheekbones, and firelight lovingly gilds his olive skin. I shouldn’t notice these things—I should be paying attention to the way he moves, and searching for hidden weapons—but my gaze slips to the sleeveless cut of his canvas tunic and stays there.
Damn the man, but his arms are a work of art.
“I wasn’t sneaking. You weren’t paying attention.”
“The vines are consuming the bodies.”
“They’re scavengers. They won’t attack you unless they’re hungry.” He plucks a bundle of clothes from under his arm. “Here. You need more to protect you than that scrap of silk you’re barely wearing.”
The words make me acutely aware of what I look like. A light rain dusts over me, the gown clinging to my damp skin.
It was created for a single reason—to show off a woman’s best assets. The skirts are sheer gauze with just enough layers to hide what lies beneath, though the shadowed outlines of my legs were clearly visible in the mirror. Chips of diamonds are sewn into the skirts, glittering like stars in the night sky. But it’s the thin strapson my shoulders, and the triangles of silk over my breasts that make me feel the most naked.
I’ve never worn its like in my life, and whilst I didn’t give a damn inside, because those men meant nothing to me, I can’t stop my cheeks from flushing as the impact of his words hit.
I am wet.
In white silk. Thin white silk so fine it would put a butterfly’s wings to shame.
And I don’t know why that fact makes me feel naked with this man, when it only made me feel powerful inside.
Perhaps because you don’t know entirely where this man stands.And you’re attracted to him.
I can’t read him.
He’s a bride hunter, but he saved me twice, and the offence he took when Broken Nose wanted to assault me was real. I stole his knife and he promised to punish me for it, but for the first time in my life, it felt like… something flirtatious rather than a threat.
“Why are you doing this?” I demand, because I need to know where he stands. I need to understand him. “Nobody asked you for help.”
“My apologies. I should have left you to that strangler then? In the manor?”
“I was about to?—”
“You were about to be choked unconscious.”
“I wasabout toknee him in the groin, steal his axe, and then bury it in his skull.”
