Cassius shrugs again. “The records don’t say. Some blame the humans, some blame a jealous lover. But after that, the kings turned on each other. The tradition ended. The wars started.”
I stare at my hands, remembering the feel of Alette’s fingers in my hair. “So what’s your point?”
Cassius doesn’t answer right away. He looks at the ring of embers in the pit, then says, “Maybe we shouldn’t just be talking about how to fix the curse, but how to fix the fae.”
Oberon lifts a brow. “You want us to, what, share a wife? Is that what you’re getting at?”
Cassius doesn’t blink. “Why not? Isn’t that what the goddess wants? Isn’t us spilling blood between the houses the reason we were cursed in the first place?”
I can’t help it. I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Can you picture me marrying one of the river girls? Or the wind fae, who think dirt is an insult?”
Oberon gives me a look. “And you think I want to breed with some tree-hugger? Not likely.”
Cassius shrugs, eyes glinting. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we can’t imagine it, because we’ve never seen it work.”
“Or, maybe, we don’t choose a fae woman.” He looks at me, then Oberon, then back. “You’ve seen how she is. The Chosen One. She draws all of us to her.”
Oberon’s face tightens. “You’re obsessed.”
Cassius doesn’t deny it. “Maybe I am. But tell me I’m wrong.”
I feel the weight of it, the way we orbit her, the way the air changes when she’s near, the way even Oberon gets quiet if she’s hurt.
It’s Oberon who finally says, “It’s just the magic. The goddess is screwing with our heads. Once we finish this, it’ll go away.”
Cassius’s voice goes soft. “I’m not sure it will.”
“I don’t share,” Oberon whispers. “Not with the three of you.”
“Me neither,” I say, but I wonder what I’d be willing to do to touch her again.
Never that… right?
“We’ll find her,” Cassius say. “Tomorrow, or the next day, or however long it takes. And when we do, we won’t let go.”
Oberon grunts, but doesn’t disagree.
“Maybe the next time, we ask her what she wants,” Cassius offers softly. But he means,whoshe wants.
I nod. “That’s fair.”
We sit there, three kings trying to imagine a world where we’re not alone. Where we get along. Where Alette belongs to all of us. The fire is brighter, and the warmth wraps around us pleasantly.
I think of her, somewhere in the maze. For her, I might tolerate being around the kings. For her, I might just do anything.
9
Alette
They take us in a parade, marching us through the remains of the wedding. Zomas stands at the head of the procession, holding a staff carved with faces that look like they’re screaming, though in the shifting light I can’t tell if it’s carved or real.
He sees me and grins, spreading his arms. “The beautiful bride! The clever king!” His voice hits like a thrown stone, shaking the dew off every branch. “The night was perfect, yes? You have won the maze’s blessing, and now you get your reward!”
There are cheers and wolf whistles. The satyrs howl and slap their thighs, hooves drumming the dirt. Every nymph in sight is half-dressed and double-drunk, and all of them have a look like they know the punchline to a joke that hasn’t landed yet. Which is unnerving.
What’s the joke? And why don’t I know it?
I try to make sense of what he’s saying. Why a reward, what kind of reward, how do you reward a fake wedding and a Chosen girl who can barely stand upright? But before I can even try to sort out my thoughts, Zomas claps his hands and the crowdpivots, marching us down a narrow corridor of hedge I swear wasn’t there before.
