Now, pacing my living room, I glanced at my reflection in the hallway mirror. Hair tamed into a neat braid, minimal makeup, tailored clothing. I looked normal. Sensible. Not at all like someone about to embark on an adventure beyond the boundaries of what she thought possible.
My phone buzzed with a text.
Approaching your building.
No greeting, no emoji. Pure Rion.
I grabbed my purse, double-checking for essentials: wallet, keys, phone, mini first-aid kit (just in case), breath mints (why did I add those?), and a small notebook and pen. Then I locked my apartment and hurried downstairs.
Outside, parked against the curb, sat a large black pickup truck with tinted windows. As I approached, the passenger window lowered just enough for me to see Rion’s eyes peering out.
“Get in,” he called.
I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and opened the door.
The truck’s interior was immaculate—black leather seats, a polished dashboard, and not a crumb or coffee stain in sight. He filled the driver’s seat completely, his horns nearly brushing theroof. He wore a dark grey Henley that stretched across his broad chest and jeans that looked custom-made to accommodate his powerful lower half. No hat today, his horns gleaming in the sunlight streaming through the windshield.
“Hi,” I said brightly, climbing in beside him. “Thanks for picking me up.”
He grunted in response, putting the truck in drive as soon as my seatbelt clicked. “It’s about forty minutes outside the city,” he said. “Last chance to change your mind.”
I turned to face him. “I’m not changing my mind.”
His eyes flickered to mine, then back to the road. “We’ll see.”
As we merged onto the highway, I tried to think of something to break the tense silence. “So… how long have you been building labyrinths?”
“Twenty-three years professionally. Longer as a hobby.”
“That’s impressive. Did you study architecture?”
He shifted slightly. “I took some classes at NYU, then did specialized apprenticeships.”
I blinked. “You went to NYU? How did you…?” I gestured vaguely at his distinctly non-human appearance.
“Most of my classes were remote. When I needed to be there and couldn’t disguise my appearance, I used a glamour,” he said brusquely. “A type of magical concealment. But it’s only good for a limited use and it drains energy. Most people don’t want to believe what they see anyway.”
“Magical concealment—” I felt my worldview expanding by the second. “So magic is real too?”
He shot me a look that clearly questioned my intelligence. “You’re sitting next to a minotaur.”
“Right. Sorry, it’s just… a lot to process.”
We lapsed into silence again as the city receded behind us. I watched the scenery change from urban sprawl to suburbs to increasingly rural landscapes, trying to keep track of our route. After about thirty minutes, Rion turned onto a winding road that climbed steadily upward.
“Where exactly are we going?” I asked.
“Upstate. Private property.”
The road narrowed, trees crowding closer on either side. Eventually, he turned onto what appeared to be a dirt driveway, barely visible among the foliage. A discreet security gate blocked our path, but it slid open as we approached..
“You live all the way out here?” I couldn’t keep the surprise from my voice.
“Privacy is necessary,” he replied, navigating the truck up the winding driveway. “Humans tend to panic when they see horns.”
“Not all humans,” I said quietly.
He glanced at me, his expression unreadable. “You’re an aberration.”
