Thwack!
The second blow sends me reeling. When I catch the priestess’s worried glance at Lenora’s tear-streaked, hopeful face, I realize my mistake.
Hope is a fragile rose, nurtured only to be crushed beneath a cruel God’s heel.
I know this.
I’ve lived this.
Still, I can’t forget Drayven’s final words—Fight. Fight like hell.
No bride from the Pen has ever escaped. None from my kingdom has ever reached the end unsullied. The Labyrinth is a game, but it is fixed. Everyone knows that. Still… what if?—?
My stomach twists. No. Hope is a lie, and I’m a fool for entertaining it. But I can’t help blurting out, “Lenora deserves to know she has a chance. She must only reach the end before a hunter stakes his claim on her. Why would Kasaros offer this path if not to take it? Maybe if the brides band together?—”
“Enough!” The priestess’s voice cracks like a whip. “You’re our longest-serving bride. Every year, whispers of your turn ripen, and yet another takes your place. Do you see us asking why?”
Unspoken accusations press against my skin until blood roars in my ears. It wants me to stand up to her, to rage. I swallow hard, face blank, as I wrestle with urges. Everyone knows a rose grew from my blood a decade ago, but few knowit still holds power. It can heal, and it can destroy. And it hates being ignored.
But it is still blood. Without it, I die.
The fewer people that know about it, the better. I’ve kept this secret for a decade for good reason.
“It is the will of the Laughing God,” I murmur, the lie bitter on my tongue.
The priestess’s smile turns serene. “Indeed. And His will is not yours to interpret.”
I bow, the familiar dance of submission easing the room’s tension. Inside, my thoughts burn.
The will of the Laughing God. The Trickster God. Kasaros.
His will tore me from my family, from Drayven. His will branded me, trained me, and displayed me like cattle. His will sends Lenora to face hunters who’ll shred her body and soul.
The priestess works at fitting Lenora’s veil while advice drones on, but I barely hear it. My thoughts spiral, sharp and tangled.
This isn’t guilt. This isn’t fate.
Kasaros plays with kingdoms, hunters, and brides, weaponizing hope and cursing love. The Labyrinth isn’t just survival—it’s a fixed game designed to dangle freedom while ensuring capture.
Fight like hell.
Dray’s last words hit differently this time. That look in his eyes before he fell—I witnessed the same triumph when he caught me in our final stalker game. He didn’t give up, even in the face of certain death, which made him the true winner. Kasaros can’t take that away.
I blink until my tears disappear. Each tattoo on my skin becomes focused and sharp. From worship to submission, honeyed words to ego-stroking praise, I know everything about pleasing a husband and being the perfect bride. But everythinghas a flip side. What if we could turn the tables? What if we use the skills they forced on us to take control of our lives? What if they can be weapons instead of chains?
I look at Lenora’s terrified face, the way her lips tremble, the way her fingers claw at her robe like she can still hide beneath it. This is what it means to be powerless. To be prey. To be nothing.
I convinced myself that submission is survival. I can outplay the game if I play it well enough. But no matter how many lessons I learn, no matter how well I obey… it’s always going to end like this.
Lenora won’t survive. None of us will. Not unless something changes.
“I volunteer,” I say, rising to my feet. “I’ll take Lenora’s place.”
Chapter 2
Florienne
The walls have ears, the briars have eyes, and the Laughing God listens to your lies.”
