Dawn breaks over the Labyrinth as we reach its edge. Only three hunters crossed our path, none of which were a problem after seeing the bloomed rose on my chest. It feels surreal to have fought all night—days, actually—only to walk out of this place with a man I thought dead.
My hand, warm and secure in Drayven’s, tightens as the blood moon sinks behind us, bleeding into daylight. Our shadows stretch long across cracked flagstones. The walls around us morph and move, elongating and whirring to form a vast chamber with a high vaulted ceiling. Two massive arched doors materialize at the chamber’s center.
“We made it,” I whisper, not quite believing it.
Drayven’s thumb traces circles on my palm. “Together.”
Beside us, Demaya kicks a loose stone with her bare foot. “Not all of us.”
On the walk, she explained four Vespers survived the Baron’s slaughter—just enough for next year’s Hunt. The knowledge settles heavy in my chest.
“Which door?” Drayven asks.
Both stand tall, hewn from ancient iron and wood. But they couldn’t be more different. The left door bursts with roses—blood red and vibrant, their thorny vines weaving intricate patterns across its surface. The scent of their perfume drifts toward us, sweet and intoxicating. The right door stands barren, weathered and gray, bearing the insignia of the Pen.
“Two choices,” I murmur. “Go home a queen or return to captivity.”
Demaya steps closer to the barren door, her fingers hovering over its splintered surface. “It’s not just captivity, though, is it? It’s a chance to finish what we started.”
“Or a trap,” Drayven growls.
“What else could it be?” I ask, searching his face. “Who else could create these doors but Kasaros?”
“Maybe Amara isn’t as absent as we think.” His gaze drifts to the roses, a muscle ticking in his jaw.
“Well played.”
The voice slithers from nowhere and everywhere. Mist gathers, thickens, and twists into the familiar shape of Kasaros. His clothes bear not a single wrinkle despite the chaos we’ve wrought in his realm.
“My little rose.” He spreads his arms wide and grins. “And her loyal shadow. What an exceptional performance.”
Drayven tenses, shifting slightly to shield me. I step around him, refusing to hide. I’d be dead already, or taken, if Kasaros intended it.
“Our business is concluded,” I state. “I’ve won my freedom.”
He laughs, but it sounds hollow. “Have you? Let’s examine the terms of our arrangement. You wagered you could reach the end of the Labyrinth unsullied. I would end the Bride Hunt forever. Yet here you stand, thoroughly claimed.” His gaze flicks to the blooming rose tattoo visible through my torn shirt. “I win.”
“You’ve had your entertainment,” Drayven cuts in. “Let us pass.”
“Oh, I’ve been entertained beyond measure.” Kasaros strolls between us and the doors, hands clasped behind his back. “But I find myself reluctant to let such captivating players leave the game.” He gestures to the barren door. “Which is why I offer an alternative. Return to the Pen. Compete again next year for a greater prize.”
“What prize could be worth another year of captivity?” I scoff.
“Freedom forallwomen. Not just brides. Bring true change to your realm.”
My breath catches. The promise sinks hooks into my heart and pulls.
“Double or nothing,” he purrs. “An entire system dismantled in a single night, rather than the slow, painful work of rebuilding it piece by piece.”
The golden rose has bloomed. My hand drifts to my belly, where Drayven’s seed has taken root. I feel it—a subtle warmth, a knowing. Life is already taking hold, and my blood sings with joy.
Demaya’s eyes follow the movement. Understanding dawns on her face.
“What guarantee do we have you’d honor such a bargain?” Drayven challenges.
“None.” Kasaros shrugs, unrepentant. “Just as I had no guarantee she’d provide her blood willingly, yet here we are. I’vetasted it now, through my throne. Our business is concluded.” He turns to Drayven. “As is my claim on you, former Huntsman. Your service ends with the moon’s setting.”
A weight lifts from Drayven’s shoulders. I see it in the subtle shift of his stance, the clearing of shadows from his eyes, the tentative hope that we might be let out of here—together.
