“And that will make you happy.”He’d said his life was fake, but would this be the thing that finally made him live for himself?
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ll just keep ruling, alone. Arguing with the other kings. Pretending to be whatever my people want.”
“Sounds lonely.”
He laughs, and it’s not a sad laugh. “It is. But I’m used to it.”
I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.
We walk until the ground goes soft under our feet, then spongy, then almost liquid. It stinks like a bog, and the air is heavy, like a wet cloth pressed to the face. I start to worry the maze is leading us somewhere bad. Maybe somewhere dangerous.
Then I see them.
Crows.More. Freaking. Crows.First just a few, then dozens, perching on the bare branches, silent and still as stones. They track us with glassy eyes, unblinking. I try not to think about how many stories I’d heard, back in the human world, about crows as omens, because crows seem to be everywhere in this place.
Ashton stops, and I stop with him, releasing his hand.
“Are they watching us for amusement purposes, or just waiting for us to drop dead?” I ask, trying to keep it light.
He gives a low whistle. “Could be both. Could be neither.”
We keep moving, but the path is narrow now, and the crows get closer, until they’re close enough that I can smell the grease and dust from their feathers. Ashton leans in, voice low. “If they attack, cover your eyes. They go for the soft parts first.”
“You’re not helping,” I hiss.
He grins, but this time I can tell he’s nervous too.
The crows don’t attack, but they do follow. As we go, more of them gather, hopping along the branches or fluttering just above us. It’s like a parade, only the parade is made entirely of things that want you to die. Because, as weird as it is, I get the feeling these birds are working against us.
Finally, after what feels like miles, the hedge opens again, and the crows stop. I almost expect them to applaud. Instead, they just stare.
We step into the clearing, and I realize I’ve been holding my breath.
Ashton lets go of my hand, just for a second, to run it through his hair. “You did good,” he says.
“So did you,” I offer with a smile. “Besides, crows are nothing after a giant worm.”
“Easy peasy,” he says, grinning.
We sit on a rock, catching our breath. The sword is still glowing, but dimmer now, more like an ember than a torch. It’s weird like that, glowing and changing seemingly when I want it to, or maybe need it to. The wind has picked up, just a little, and the smell of the bog is strangely gone as fast as it came.
Ashton looks at me. “You never told me what you did, back home. Like, for fun.”
I blink. I can’t remember the last time anyone asked me something like that. “I didn’t have a lot of free time. When I wasn’t working, I was usually fixing something that was broken.”
“Sounds miserable.”
I shrug. “It was just… life. You do what you have to.”
He nods, silent again.
I pick at the moss on the rock. “Sometimes, I’d sneak out at night. Walk in the woods. Pretend I was lost and wish someone would care enough to find me.” I look up, realize how stupid it sounds. “Sorry, that’s?—”
He cuts me off. “Not stupid. I get it.” He’s looking at me with a kind of intensity I haven’t seen before. It wasn’t flirtation or attraction. Just… attention.
I ask, “What about you?”
He gives a half-smile, but it’s crooked, like it hurts. “When I was a kid, I used to make up stories about running away. I’d go to the farthest cloud in the sky and build a palace. Invite everyone who ever wanted to escape.” He shrugs. “Never got around to it.”
