“At this rate, we’ll die of boredom before the labyrinth gets us,” King Oberon grumbles
King Ashton snorts. “Only if your whining doesn’t kill us first.”
I keep my mouth shut. It’s easier that way. The only thing I can think about is the weight of the dagger and the next step in front of me. The memory of the fall, the dark, the sensation of something watching from below, it lingers, sour and heavy.But, also, strangely, the way King Oberon looked at me. The connection I felt with him. It didn’t make sense. Not his soft touch, or his soft words, because nothing about him is soft. And yet, I don’t think my mind is making up the connection with him.
He glances over at me, those deep blue eyes of his open, unguarded, for the briefest moment. I realize I was holding my breath and I let it out, noticing the warmth that’s moved over my chest.King Oberon is frightening, so why does he make me feel this strange way?
I shake the thought away. It’s more important that I focus on the here and now.
That fall in the hole of vines happened minutes into our trip into the labyrinth… King Oberon jokes about dying of boredom, but I can’t stop thinking about the other million ways this magical labyrinth could end us. And none of what comes to mind seems painless.
Eventually, the gray sky begins to dim, far quicker than I’ve ever experienced before.Night falls fast here, I guess.Within minutes, the light fades from light gray to black, and we’re left with only the faint glow from the dagger and King Oberon’s small flame dancing in his palm. The darkness presses in close, thick and total.
King Sylvian pulls up short at a small clearing, a spot where the path widens, ringed by twisted yew trees and a patch of low, spongy moss. There’s nothing particularly special about the spot, so I glance at the king, waiting for instruction.
“This is as good a place as any to stop for the night,” he says, already moving to check the perimeter for threats.
King Cassius nods. “Agreed. We’ll lose more than we gain if we keep moving in this dark and get hurt.”
I think they’re probably right. Traveling in the darkness seems far more dangerous than traveling in the dim light of the labyrinth’s day. We need to see our enemies coming before theysee us if we have any chance. Yet, I look to the others. King Oberon is silent, arms crossed, scowling at the sky. King Ashton, true to form, flops onto the moss and stretches out, grinning at nothing in particular.
Okay, so I guess we’re more or less in agreement that it’s time to rest.
I sink to the ground, bones protesting, muscles shaking. All I want is sleep. Just an hour or two where my brain can shut off and my heart can stop racing. At the farm, there was always an undercurrent of fear in every action I took, but that fear was like the tremor of an earthquake. There, hard to ignore, but not impossible. The fear I feel here is oppressive, like a sand storm. There’s no ignoring it. No slipping away to my quiet place. All I can do is endure.
King Oberon comes to stop just above King Ashton. “Don’t get too comfortable. We need a fire. Ashton, gather branches.”
The other man props himself up on an elbow, raising an eyebrow. “Why don’tyoudo it? I don’t recall ever pledging service to you, fire boy.”
King Oberon’s eyes narrow, blue, cold, and sharp as broken ice. “You need to pull your weight. There’s no servant here to wash your kingly bottom.”
King Ashton yawns, a showy performance. “I’d rather delegate. Makes for a better use of everyone’s talents. Alette, what do you think? Shouldn’t Oberon show off his manly strength and collect the wood himself?”
They all look at me. I freeze, not used to being consulted in these little power games.
“I, uh… I think everyone will be enjoying the fire, so everyone should get it,” I mumble.
For a second, no one speaks. Then King Sylvian laughs, the sound soft but genuine. “I think since Ashton doesn’t care about the fire, I guess Oberon should collect the wood.”
King Oberon’s face turns a shade darker, and for a second I think he’ll hit King Ashton, but he just turns on his heel and stalks into the shadows, muttering under his breath.
King Cassius sighs and sits beside me. “Don’t mind them. They’ve been at this for nearly two hundred and fifty years.”
That makes me pause. “How is that possible when you’re all so young?”
His eyes fix on the dagger in my lap. “We’re all older than we look. Still young in fae years though. But, unfortunately, time doesn’t heal old grudges. If anything, it makes them worse.”
King Ashton pipes up, “You’d think after a century or two, Oberon would have developed a sense of humor. But no, he has just the one facial expression.” He demonstrates, contorting his face into a cartoonish scowl.
King Sylvian shakes his head. “All joking aside, he’s not wrong, you know. About the fire. We all need it. The last thing we want is to freeze in this damp, dark maze, or have no light to scare off whatever horrible creatures live in this place.”
“We’ll manage,” King Cassius says, though he doesn’t look convinced.
I watch as King Oberon returns, arms full of dry sticks and a scowl so deep I wonder if he’ll ever smile again. He dumps the wood in a heap and gestures to us. “We need more branches.
My feet hurt, but I climb back onto them. “I’ll get more.”
King Sylvian is next to me in an instant. “I’ll help.”
