What else?Fuck. The kings and I exchange a look. We need to prepare her properly for what she’s going to face, but if we tell her too much, will she try to run again? She already believes all fae are monsters. What happens when she finds out about the real monsters?
“Is it that bad?” she asks after a long minute.
Well, yes, yes it is, but we can’t just say that…
“However bad it is doesn’t matter,” King Oberon says, his jaw clenched. “In two days' time, we ride for the labyrinth.”
The fae are getting restless. They’re showing more and more concerning signs that their bodies can’t handle being detached from their powers for much longer. Getting back our powers isn’t just about our powers any longer, it’s about our survival.
And we all know it.
Still, I look for the others to soften his words, but no one does. And somehow, an ominous feeling settles over our group. The truth is, none of us really know what we’re going to face. The only fae who entered the labyrinth out of desperation didn't come back.
This is an adventure into the unknown. Not just for Alette, but for all of us.
I attempt a smile that feels false. “Not to worry, we’ll be at your side every step of the way.”
Not just to protect her, but because without her we’re doomed to die in the labyrinth. We need both our powers and the goddess’s blessing if we have any chance at saving our people.
Alette whispers softly, “I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
And maybe she’s right. Because everyone knows the goddess created this labyrinth to torture us, to punish us, and now Alette is caught in that web too. Even though she doesn’t know it.
I almost feel sorry for her.
15
Alette
My heart poundsas I slip on my cloak, the weight of the dagger at my side unsettling no matter how long I’m around it. Every time I feel the cool bone of the hilt of the dagger against my hip, it makes my heart skip a beat. I remember that I’m now caught in a world of fae magic and curses.
“You look ready for battle,” Lily says, standing behind me in the mirror.
“Do I?”
I have no idea what “battle ready” looks like, but the leather armor that the kings had sent over for me fits like a glove. I’ve never in my life even imagined leather this soft and bendable. It should be stiff and uncomfortable, and yet, I think I could sleep in this.
She comes forward to smooth a few stray strands that had escaped by my temple, then moves back to her place a few steps behind me. My hair is braided down my back, each strand now in place. It’s not how I typically wear my hair, but it makes sense for what I’m about to face.
Ellie opens the door and slips in. “The kings are waiting.”
I nod, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach. This is what I agreed to. Doing this will earn me both freedom and revenge.
Besides, I don’t have any choice.
As I head downstairs, I pause at a window and look down into the courtyard. It’s packed, not just with fae, but with horses, banners, and what appear to be whole families of parents, grandparents, and children. It has a feeling of celebration instead of one of doom, probably because they think we’re going to successfully return their powers. And not a single one of them is thinking about what we might have to endure to do that.
My breath fogs the glass.Look at them. Not a single human face in the crowd, unless you count the ones who serve. I doubt anyone in that crowd cares if I come back at all.
I make my way down the stairs, head held high. The servants I pass bow their heads and move quickly aside, their expressions a mix of fear and pity.
But none of them look me in the eye.
The large wooden doors that connect to the courtyard creak as they open to reveal the morning light. It’s blinding compared to the dimness of the corridors. The cold, crisp air greets me like a slap, sharp and biting against my skin, and carries the scent of pine and earth from the forest surrounding the castle, earthy and grounding. I pull my cloak tighter around me, hoping to shield myself from the cold, but my nerves chill me more than the air.
The fae that wait instantly go quiet, the sense of celebration dying as they spot me. They don’t cheer or sing; they simply watch, their gazes sharp and hungry, as if they’re waiting for something to go wrong. Their eyes are a hundred different colors, many of them impossible—violet, ice blue, gold fleckedwith green. I glance at them, then away, keeping my eyes on the ground until I reach the foot of the stairs.
The kings are waiting for me. They stand together but apart, as if they hate each other so much that even being near one another is a challenge. They’re all in battle gear, tough leathers dyed in the colors of their court, embroidered and etched with runes I don’t recognize. Each wears a different kind of armor, but every set is fitted perfectly. King Ashton’s long blonde hair is tied back. King Sylvian’s hair falls in a thick black braid across his shoulder. All their faces are freshly shaven. Weapons hang at their hips. None are as strange as my dagger, but the blades, I have no doubt, are as fine as any that could be made. The men look like they’re both off to war and to steal a woman’s heart.
