“May I have this next dance with my beautiful bride?” Ashton asks behind me, and his deep voice sends a shiver up my spine.
Zomas steps back, gives a sweeping bow, and hands me off to Ashton, with a funny look I can't quite read. Almost like he wants to say more.
Ashton pulls me in, gentle but insistent. His touch is a relief after Zomas, soft and familiar. He smells like… man and flower petals and the last of the wedding wine.
“You okay?” he says, voice low and careful.
I nod, but my head’s swimming. “Did you hear any of that?”
He shrugs. “Enough. Satyrs are always cryptic. But he’s not wrong about the maze.” His hands settle on my hips, and we move together, slower than before.
I want to believe him, but the warning sticks in my mind.
Ashton leans close, lips against my ear. “You did great. Everyone loves a good wedding.”
“I hope it was worth it,” I say. “Now the maze thinks we’re really married.”
He pulls back and grins, that lopsided smile. “If it keeps us alive, I’ll marry you a hundred times.”
I’m not sure whether to be offended or flattered.
The party spins on. The satyrs and nymphs dance in wild, tangled knots, switching partners every few seconds, sometimes more than that. At one point, a nymph dips a satyr and kisses him so hard he nearly falls over. Zomas keeps court at the edge of the clearing, pouring wine and telling stories to anyone who’ll listen.
The air is thick with heat, laughter, and something else… magic, maybe, or just the tension of a thousand eyes watching us.
But through all of it, Zomas’s eyes keep finding mine.
He’s laughing and singing, but there’s something in his eyes. Maybe a warning. I'm not sure, but it's darker than the shadows of the labyrinth itself.
Ashton keeps dancing with me, but his eyes are on the exits. “We’ll slip away when things calm down,” he murmurs. “Better to keep them happy for now.”
I nod, letting myself relax into his arms for the first time all night. He’s warm, solid, and for a second I remember what it felt like to be held just because someone wanted to, not because they needed to prove a point.
“Hey,” I say, after a while. “Thanks. For what you did back there.”
He squeezes my hand. “Anytime. You’re a terrible bride, but you make a good partner.”
I snort, then choke on a laugh. “You’re the worst. I hope you know that.”
He bows his head, smiling. “You say that, but you let me kiss you.”
I don’t answer, but I don’t let go, either.
“Want to sit for a little while?”
“I'd love that,” comes out in a rush of breath.
He takes my hand, pulls me to the edge of the clearing, and we sit in the moss, watching the creatures continue their never-ending party.
“You think the others made it through the night?” I ask.
He shrugs. “If anyone could, it’s them.”
I rest my head on his shoulder, and let myself feel safe. Just for a little while. As time passes, I half-expect Ashton to take the opportunity for another show, maybe sweep me into a dip or kiss my hand in front of everyone, but he just sits beside me quietly. For a few minutes we watch the party, the air humming with light from the torches and the smell of wild mint.
“You know,” he says, after a long, companionable silence, “this is the least miserable night I’ve had since we fell into this damned labyrinth.”
I laugh, then snort, then immediately regret the sound. “That’s not saying much.”
