Demaya’s fingers brush against her robe pocket where something bulges. She catches me staring and quickly looks away.
I turn back to Kasaros. “I won’t return to the Pen. I won’t leave Drayven, and I won’t gamble with what’s growing inside me.”
Drayven’s breath hitches. His grip on my hand tightens so hard that I almost yelp. Instead, I offer a nervous smile. I don’t know if we’ll be good parents, but I know we’ll love this child deeply.
Kasaros’s eyes narrow, then widen with delight. “Already? How marvelously efficient.” He glances at Drayven with newfound respect. “Perhaps there was more to my Huntsman than I realized.”
“I was never yours,” Drayven growls.
“Details.” Kasaros waves dismissively. “The child complicates matters, but the offer stands. Think of what you could accomplish, little rose. One more year against generations of struggle.”
The temptation claws at me. And I know the God is so very bored, he might actually hold true to his offer if I remain and continue to fight. But this deal has a hidden edge—he’s tasted change and wants to tease it. Or he has an entirely different agenda to which we’re not privy.
I think of Demaya and the other girls in the Pen. I think of my unborn child. I think of Drayven, who sacrificed everything to keep me safe.
Quick fixes are never what they seem.
“No.” I lift my chin. “We’ll build something new together, something better. The slow way. The honest way.”
“Disappointing but expected.” Kasaros sighs. “Very well. The first door leads to your kingdom which is now lacking a Baron.” A cruel smile plays at his lips. “I should warn you—his allies have already begun circling his vacant position like wolves.”
“Let them circle,” I say. “I’m not afraid of wolves.”
“You should be.” His eyes glitter with malice. “The Baron rose to power by proving his worth in battle. The warlords respect strength, violence, victory. They’ll never bow to a woman—not even a fertile one—without a show of force.”
Drayven steps forward. “Then they’ll get one.”
“Ever the protector.” Kasaros looks amused. “But these battles require more than brute strength, former Huntsman. They require cunning, strategy, politics—arts you’ve never mastered.”
I stare at the God and read between the lines. He wants me to use my blood for destruction. But that dishonors the Goddess who gifted it to me. Unless I’m protecting my life or that of my family, I’ll only use it to heal, to grow.
“Good thing he has me then,” I interject. “I’ve mastered all feminine mysteries. You’d be surprised how many translate to warfare.”
Behind us, Demaya clears her throat. “I’m staying.”
We both turn, startled.
“What?” I breathe.
She crosses her arms, chin jutting, curls bouncing. “Someone needs to disrupt next year’s Hunt. Someone who knows the Labyrinth’s secrets.” Her eyes gleam with purpose. “I can be that thorn in his side.”
“Demaya, no—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“This is my choice, Flori.” Her voice softens. “You taught me that. To speak with the choices I stand by.”
Drayven’s eyes narrow, scrutinizing her. “You took the mask, didn’t you?”
She doesn’t deny it. “I saw what it gave you. Strength. Power.” Her hand pats her pocket. “Now it’s my turn.”
“It’s cursed,” Drayven warns. “It will change you.”
“Good.” Demaya lifts her chin. “Maybe that’s what we need. Someone willing to be changed.”
Kasaros watches this exchange with growing interest. His head tilts like a curious bird. “How delightful. The student becomes the revolutionary.” He steps toward Demaya, extending his hand. “Do you understand what you’re offering, little rebel?”
“Better than you think.” She doesn’t take his hand. “I’m not serving you. I’m subverting you.”
His laughter fills the Labyrinth. “Even better! A true agent of chaos.” He turns to us. “Your friend has spirit. She’ll make an excellent adversary.”
