I shift, trying to get comfortable on the lumpy earth, but nothing helps. The fire is nice, but I can’t get the chill out of my bones, or the knot out of my gut. Every time the wind shifts, I catch a whiff of something rotten or hear the distant wail of the labyrinth’s victims. Even sitting in a ring of the most powerful men I’ll ever know, I feel so, so small.
“You ever going to relax?” Ashton asks Oberon, mouth already full of jerky.
Oberon glares. “Someone should stay vigilant.”
“You’re being dramatic,” Ashton says, tearing off another hunk. “If anything was going to attack us, it’d have done so by now.”
Sylvian cuts in, soft and calm. “You never know. Sometimes the worst things wait for you to get comfortable.”
Cassius says nothing, just keeps his eyes on the fire like he’s deep in thought.
I stare into the flames, hypnotized by the heart of them. “I don’t know how any of us are going to be able to sleep here.”
Ashton laughs. “I’m sure we’ll get used to it. Besides, I hear earth fae snoring is enough to scare away most predators.”
Sylvian raises an eyebrow. “You should talk, wind child. I’ve shared a tent with you. They don’t call you thewindfae for no reason.” He glances at me. “This guy could win any farting competition you put him in.”
As if I needed him to further explain.
Oberon finally seems to relax a little, but not much. It’s like he wants to always be at the ready. “None of us should sleep deeply tonight. The second we let our guard down, the goddess will bring danger our way.”
“Maybe we should share guard duty,” Ashton suggests.
Cassius shakes his head. “We don’t want to be traveling through the labyrinth too tired from being up half the night. We have a fire to protect us. We’re all light sleepers. It makes sense to rest altogether and move at a faster pace during the day.”
“I know I don’t want to be in this labyrinth longer than we have to,” Ashton says.
“Agreed,” Sylvian murmurs.
The thought of sleeping in this place makes my skin crawl. But I know exhaustion will win out. I accept a strip of dried fruit from Sylvian and chew in silence, listening to the small, comforting noises of the kings settling down for the night.
After a few minutes, curiosity gets the better of me. “Can I ask you something?”
Three heads turn. Oberon just looks annoyed, but he’s listening.
I glance at the flames, then back at them. “Why were you all cursed?”
They had said something before. I was sure of it. But all those panicked moments are just a blur in my mind now.
To my surprise, the air shifts. Instantly, the small comfort of the fire vanishes. The kings glance at each other. No one seems to want to go first.
It’s Cassius who finally speaks, his voice soft and measured. “It was the night of Belataie, the spring festival, a celebration for the goddess Varua. All four houses were together, as required by tradition. There’s always tension, but that year… it was worse.”
He looks at the others, giving them a chance to interrupt. None do.
“There was too much wine, too much pride. Old arguments resurfaced. Eventually, someone bled. On a sacred day. That’s all it took. The goddess punished us immediately.”
Ashton rolls his neck. “All of us, for one little incident. Seems unfair, but she’s always been dramatic.”
Oberon’s jaw clenches. “It was no ‘little incident.’ It was you, running your mouth, as usual. Couldn’t let anything go, could you?”
Ashton looks up, all innocence. “I was just making a joke. You never could take a joke.”
Oberon growls.
Sylvian lets out a deep sigh. “No one is blameless. We all played a part. It was a mess.”
Cassius nods, slow and sad. “But that’s the way it’s always been. The houses bicker and fight, then blame each other when things fall apart.”
