I stare at her beautiful face, pinched with pain, and know I can’t stay with her. Nor can I abandon her.
She mumbles and reaches for me.
“Enough, Flori,” I say softly, catching her hand in mine. “You’ve done enough.”
Her eyes flutter open, burnished with exhaustion but also with relief. “You live.”
“I’m furious.”
“Wouldn’t have it any other…” Her voice fades with her breath.
“Rest now,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “I’ll watch over you. I promise.”
After she drifts into a deep slumber, I investigate the haven we’ve found ourselves in. Danger lurks in every corner of the Labyrinth. Usually, I sense Kasaros’s presence everywhere, watching me, mocking every thought in my head. But he’s not here. It’s a strange sensation.
I’ll need to nurse Flori back to health without divine intervention, which means keeping this place warm and finding food. The torches give off light but no heat from the edges of the chamber. I’ll build a fire closer. Plenty of fresh water drips from the tiny gap in the canopy further down.
Morning sunlight filters in and stains Amara’s stone effigy with a rainbow. My search for dry firewood brings me closer. I pause to inspect the familiar shade of blue paint peeling from the Goddess’s hair. Behind her, rain drips from a hole in the ceiling, filling a natural lagoon with fresh water. It’s small, but a stream trickles outward, overflows, and is swallowed by ferns. The vegetation around here grows even more lush and wild than the rest of the temple, as if she’s still present and feeding her magic into the fertile land.
I’ve traveled all around the realm, from the snowy wastelands to the deserts. Nothing this lush and green exists.
Could it be that we’ve genuinely found a refuge hidden from Kasaros’s eyes? Could this verdant temple be Amara’s lost treasure—hidden within the Labyrinth itself?
Whatever the case, if she deigned to offer protection by leading us here, she’ll expect something in return. She’s a God. That’s what they do.
It’s difficult, but I find enough dry wood to build a fire. Once it blazes, I hunt for food and find ripe berries, herbs, mushrooms, and nuts hiding in abundant foliage. I don’t know how long we’ve been out, so I rouse Flori to drink water. She takes a few greedy gulps and falls back asleep.
I clean her wound, pleased to see it already looking another day old. Whether rapid healing is normal for a magical gift or some kind of blessing from this place, I don’t care. She donated a fair amount of blood to me. That’s the only explanation for her state.
Foolish woman. She has the power of a Goddess burning through her veins, and she wastes it on me. Think of all the people she could save, the sick, the wounded.
I shake my head and head back to the lagoon, where I clean myself and my clothes. They’ll dry by the fire. She’ll need my shirt—her dress was already flimsy, but is now scrap, barely holding together on her body. But I won’t undress her. After every choice has been taken from her, this feels like the final straw.
So I lie behind her on the soft, leafy ground and wrap my arms around her, careful to avoid her wound. My nightmare flickers in my mind, and I tighten my hold in case she floats away. I wouldn’t put it past Amara to take this last piece of heaven on earth back to the stars.
Staring at the flickering campfire, I try not to think about my failings. But they’re lurking in the shadows, waiting for me. Everything I’ve done is to keep her safe, and it’s not enough.
The day crawls by, and night closes in, each second an eternity as I hold Flori’s fragile form against me. Her trust in me is a brittle thing, but in this moment, it feels unbreakable.
During the night, Flori whimpers, and rolls to face me. I welcome her into my arms, whispering comforting words and pressing my lips to her forehead. I tell her silly tales of giants and witches, of pirates and mermaids, until my voice chases the shadows from her mind.
She settles back into a peaceful slumber, and I continue to hold her close, my fingers tracing the delicate curve of her jawline. Every detail of her face is etched into my memory—her full lips, long lashes, soft skin. It’s the freckles scattered across her nose that I dream of most. They’re almost an identical pattern to mine. Sometimes, in my weakest hours, I imagine it’s because we shared so much time together as children that the sun thought we were one soul.
Eventually, morning comes, and with it, a new set of worries. A rustling in the undergrowth snaps my attention away. I tense, ready to defend our sanctuary. But it’s just a small rodent, scurrying past. Still, the intrusion reminds me of our precarious position. We’re not truly safe here. The Trickster God won’t allow a single bride to remain unclaimed. I gently wake Flori, trying not to startle her from sleep.
“We should get going soon,” I say as she blinks at me.
“Where are we?” she asks.
“In an abandoned temple.”
“Oh yes. I remember.”
“Do you think you can eat?” I nod toward the food I’ve left on a frond.
“I’m starving.” Flori sits up slowly, wincing as the movement pulls at her wound. She takes note of our surroundings with curiosity before turning back to me.
Her gaze lingers on my chest. Kasaros’s invisible mark feels obvious beneath my skin. My cheeks and ears that heat with shame. It doesn’t help that she’s practically naked. I clear my throat and move to check the dampness of clothes hanging on a branch nearby.
