I wonder if he believes it, or if it’s just something he’s telling both of us.
There’s a faint shudder in the ground. At first I think it’s my imagination, but Ashton hears it too. The hedge to our left vibrates, leaves quivering in a sudden draft. A seam appears in the greenery, and with a sound like ribs cracking, the hedge parts to reveal a dark corridor. A new path. Somewhere in the distance, I hear a crow cry out.
We both stare at it, neither moving.
“Should we?” I ask.
“I feel like the goddess is guiding us that way, for better or worse,” he says.
Taking a deep breath, I answer honestly. “Me too.”
“So we go?” Ashton says, and for the first time he sounds genuinely uncertain.
The faces of the three fae kings spring to my mind. Deep in my gut, I know they’re doing everything they can to get to us. So if they haven’t reached us yet, they must not be able to.
“I-I think doing something is better than doing nothing, because I don’t want to lose them,” I say, and the admission is strange on my tongue.
Ashton offers his hand, and when I take it, it’s warm and steady. “Then let’s not.”
We stand, gather our pitiful supplies, and walk toward the new pathway. As we step through, the hedge closes behind us with a sigh, and Ashton and I both look back, tensing.
“I guess the only way is forward,” I whisper.
“To going forward,” he says, as we start walking once more.
Ahead, the corridor twists out of sight. Ashton lets go of my hand, but not before squeezing once, hard enough to sayyou’re not alone.
We walk in silence, unsure if the choice we made was the right one, but knowing it doesn’t really matter anymore.
4
Oberon
One second,Alette is standing in front of us, her lips parted, her dark hair lying in a perfect tail down her back, her stunning blue eyes wide and surprised, and then, she and Ashton are gone, the green wall sealing shut with a wet, sucking noise behind them. The hedge knits itself smooth as flesh, like they’d never even been there.
No! Alette!
I don’t think. I throw myself at the spot, shouldering past Sylvian, who’s closer but moving too slowly for my liking. My hands hit the branches, but they don’t give. Not even a little. It’s like ramming a stone wall, only worse because the wall is alive and sharp. It writhes, flexes, and pushes me back, thorns digging into my palms, drawing blood.
Not that I can’t handle a little blood.
I snarl and slam it again and again, until Sylvian grabs my arm and wrenches me back. “You’ll break your bones before you break that,” he says, voice thick with panic. “It’s magic, Oberon. There’s no way through.”
“The wolves were magic too,” I snap. “But you managed to fuck your way out of that just fine.” I’m aware of the acid in my voice, but I don’t care. I want to punch something and he’s closest.
Cassius steps up, face blank as always, and runs his fingertips along the hedge, tracing the seams where it closed. “They went through, but we can’t. The opening is… selective.” He flicks a glance at me, then at Sylvian. “It let the Chosen and the Wind Prince through. Not us. There must be a reason for that.”
Sylvian’s nostrils flare. “I have no clue what that could be though.”
“No shit,” I growl, and try to bite back the memory of her face, the bruise still yellowing her cheek, the way she was battered from that last pit trap with the vines. Human bodies are so easy to break. Even the tough ones. Especially the ones that think they’re tough.
I shove the hedge again, because it’s the only thing that feels right. “We need to get to her. Ashton can’t be trusted to protect anything but his own ego.”
Sylvian doesn’t say a word. Instead, he kneels, presses his ear to the ground, and closes his eyes. For a second, he looks almost peaceful, like he’s meditating. Then he stands and dusts off his hands. “It’s clear the path is closed for now, but I believe the labyrinth will keep shifting until we find our way back to each other.”
“That could be hours,” I answer, angrily, “or days, if it even happens. Do any of you really think Ashton is going to be able to keep her alive when the labyrinth throws shit at them?” My voice cracks at the end and I hate it. I hate it when I can see that they’ve noticed.
Sylvian has a flash of panic across his face and moves closer to the wall, palms open, pleading. “Alette! Can you hear us?” He cups his hands and shouts again, louder. “Alette!”
