Zomas leans in, studying Ashton. “A wind prince!” He laughs, slapping the table. “Delightful. And the girl—” He turns to me, eyes narrow and calculating. “Who are you, beauty? I smell human on you.”
I fight the urge to shrink under his gaze. “I’m nobody,” I say, which is mostly true.
He roars with laughter, the sound echoing off the hedge. “Nobody! That is a new name for the Chosen One.” He leans in, crowding me. “Do you know what they say about Chosen humans?”
I shake my head, wishing I could vanish.
“They say the goddess picks only the prettiest. The bravest. The most…” His eyes flick up and down, and I realize he’s undressing me with his mind. “Delicious.”
The table erupts into laughter, and a wave of nymphs claps and shrieks. It’s all too much after days with just the kings and the silence of the hedge. Maybe I should be excited to see such rare fantastical creatures, but I’m on edge.
Ashton puts a hand on mine, squeezing just enough to ground me. He lowers his voice, speaking to the table, “We are grateful for your hospitality, Lord Zomas. But we are weary. Perhaps a little food, a little rest, then we will be on our way.”
Zomas nods, solemn for a moment, then pours tea into my cup from a jug the color of amethyst. “Please! Eat, drink! You must be starving.” The tea smells like nothing I recognize—sweet, but also sharp, with a bite underneath.
I look at Ashton, and he gives a tight, almost imperceptible nod.
I take a sip. It’s not poison, or if it is, it’s a kind that works slow. Warmth floods my chest and makes the world shimmer a little at the edges.
The nymph next to me drapes herself over my shoulder, hair falling like silk. “You’re so quiet,” she says in a voice that’s soft as moss. “Are you afraid?”
“Yes,” I say, because it seems like the right answer.
She laughs. “You should be. But not of us. The maze is much crueler.”
She says it so lightly, I can’t tell if it’s a joke.
Zomas claps his hands and two more satyrs appear, bearing trays of roasted potatoes covered in a ridiculous number of toppings. The scent is overwhelming—smoke, fat, and something herbal. I try to keep my hands in my lap, but my stomach betrays me with a loud, undignified growl.
The whole table hears it. Even Zomas looks delighted.
He forks a hunk of meat onto my plate, then tears one off for himself. “Eat,” he says. “In the maze, a meal is a victory.”
Ashton leans in, murmuring so low only I can hear, “If he wants you to eat, do it. Satyrs hate a bad guest.”
I taste the meat, and it’s… fine. Better than fine. It’s the best thing I’ve ever had. Tender, perfectly seasoned, the fat melting on my tongue. I close my eyes, and for a second, the world isn’t a nightmare. It’s just this moment and this meal.
When I open my eyes, the nymph is watching me, her pupils huge and dark. “Isn’t it perfect?”
I nod, cutting another slice of meat off my plate. “Yes, it is. Thank you.”
Zomas beams. “Good! You see, my dear, the labyrinth is not cruel. It only wants to be understood. Here, we celebrate. We laugh. We fuck. We do not fight, unless it is for fun.”
The word hangs in the air. The nymphs giggle, and the satyrs thump their hooves on the ground.
I feel Ashton squeeze my hand again. He’s smiling, but the muscles in his jaw are rigid.
Zomas raises his cup. “A toast! To our honored guests. May their journey be long, and their memories even longer.”
The whole table drinks. I sip my tea again, and the heat rushes straight to my head.
Zomas leans over, staring at me with that impossible intensity. “Tell me, Chosen One, what do you wish for, in this place?”
I nearly laugh.What do I wish for? To get out? To stay alive?But is that the proper answer?
I remember Ashton’s warning, and I play along. “I wish… to survive the labyrinth. I wish for peace.”
Zomas grins wider. “A human wishing for peace, surrounded by fae and beasts! That is poetry. I like you.”
