I nod, then laugh. “It’s the best pretending I’ve ever done.”
He rolls onto his side, face close to mine. “Maybe it’s not pretending,” he whispers, and kisses me again, softer this time.
I’m so lost in the feeling that it takes a minute to notice the hush that falls over the clearing. I look away from Ashton, and Zomas is standing at the edge of the clearing, hooves planted, arms wide, face split in a devilish smile.
He raises his goblet. “The wedding is over, my children! Now the honeymoon begins! Let us help the bride and groom find their bed, and may they beget a thousand heirs before morning!”
The crowd erupts in wild applause.
I freeze, blood running cold.
Ashton meets my eyes, then shrugs. “They’re not going to let us sleep alone.” Then he whispers in my ear. “But they could never make me hurt you.”
At least that’s something.
A nymph grabs my hand, a satyr grabs Ashton’s, and we’re led through the crowd, past the ruins of the wedding and under the drooping arch of white roses. The guests shower us with petals, chanting “Bride and groom! Bride and groom!” And all the while, I wonder where they’re taking us. And how this will all end.
8
Sylvian
I haven’t seenAlette for an entire day.
If I close my eyes and focus, I can still taste her sweet lips, feel her soft body underneath me. Her memory is the only thing that feels real any longer. It’s maybe the only thing keeping me together. I just wish the other kings were holding up as well. Both seem on the edge of something bad. Oberon is pacing near where we’ve thrown all our packs, which is his favorite thing to do now. Cassius is trying to create a possible map to the labyrinth in the dirt. They’re desperate to get back to her, as am I, but unlike them I think I still have some hope that we’ll actually find her.
They’re arguing again. This time it’s about who’s to blame for losing her.
“You could’ve grabbed her before she fell through the hedge,” Oberon snaps, making no attempt to hide the accusation in his voice.
Cassius doesn’t look up from his stick. “Technically, you could’ve saved her just as easily as I could’ve.” He’s not angry, hedoesn’t usually get angry, but the way he says it is like smacking Oberon with the world’s most polite shovel.
Oberon bristles, fists clenched. “How are you so calm? She’s out there! Somewhere! She could be hurt… or worse, and you’re just sitting there playing with your damn stick!”
Cassius glances up, his expression betraying his fear. “She’s okay. She’s got to be okay.”
I try to say something, to defuse it, but the words won’t come out. I just sit down, legs folded, chewing the inside of my cheek and counting the seconds since I last heard Alette’s voice. I’m supposed to be the peacekeeper. But I feel hollowed and raw inside.
Oberon starts pacing in circles now. “This is a waste of time. We should be looking for her, not sitting on our asses waiting for the maze to spit her back out.”
“We already tried that,” I say. We walked for hours. For days. It got us nowhere. Maybe even further from her.
“We should keep trying!” Oberon shouts.
Cassius makes a show of exhaling. “And how do you propose we find her? The corridors have shifted three times since we set up camp. For all we know, she’s not even in this quadrant of the labyrinth anymore.”
Oberon kicks a chunk of rotten wood, sending splinters everywhere. “We’re kings,” he snarls. “Or we’re supposed to be. It’s pathetic, sitting here like lost children. The maze is playing us, and you know it.”
Cassius doesn’t answer. I can see the muscles jumping in his jaw, but he stays quiet, eyes on his stupid lines. Oberon storms off to the edge of the clearing, muttering curses under his breath.
I stand, legs shaky, and follow Oberon. I can’t bear to watch him suffering so visibly the way I’m suffering so silently.
He obviously hears my footsteps behind him but doesn’t turn. Normally, he’d have told me to stay away. Normally, he’d have thrown some cutting remark over his shoulder.
But this time he says nothing. Maybe for once he’s actually taking comfort in my presence, which is a strange idea. We kings never go near each other unless we have to.
He’s got his back to me, fists clenched at his sides, gaze fixed on the hedge like it’s the same one where Alette vanished. I know he’s blaming himself, even though he’ll never admit it. That’s the thing about Oberon… he needs to be angry, because if he ever lets the grief through, it’d kill him.
“Stop blaming yourself,” I say, and the words sound stupid, even to me. “She’s not dead.”
