I could do it, right now. Take his gyre and go back to Aethrolia and be done with this. Only I can’t ignore the fact that I hold the power to grant him the same freedom he’s giving me. To give him a chance. Achoice.
I’m the only one in the world who can.
My breathing grows harsh, my frantic inhales echoing in the quiet room. I have to finish, I think. Run the labyrinth like I agreed, break Amriel’s curse. Stand in front of those two doors at the end.
Because I’ll know, then. Which way to go. Which door to choose.
The moment I think it, certainty clicks inside me like a lock springing free. My thoughts move as one, everything in me aligning.
Yes. I’ll go into the maze at sunset, find the Shadow. Let him help me to the end, then break the hourglass before the sun comes up.
I can do it. I have just enough sand left to last me until dawn.
I tear my gaze from Amriel and ease from bed. If I’m going back into the labyrinth, I need to do it before he tries to stop me. How I’ll avoid the lake of acid, I don’t know, but already, wheels turn in my mind, ideas germinating and dying away, new ones budding in their place.
I hurry to the dresser, where I pull on a fresh set of leather clothes. Jamming my feet into my old boots, I shift all my pebbles into my newpockets, then my gyre. I cinch my dagger around my waist. Then hesitate, because I need to make sure Amriel doesn’t follow me into the maze again.
I willnotlet this man get himself killed for my sake.
I find his pants and palm his gyre, tucking it away in yet another one of my pockets.
Then I snatch up my muddied leather garments, intent on stuffing them into the bottom of my dresser. But when the drawer slides open, I find my old dress still wedged in the back.
A beat passes while I stare at it, at the blood staining the rough-knit fabric. At the ugly, unassuming color underneath.
Goddess, why did I ever insist on wearing something so hideous? Then again, I’ll need this dress if I return to Aethrolia. I can’t go home in skin-tight leather, not if I want to have any hope of being welcomed.
I snatch up the dress and knot it around my belt, then bolt to the door, shutting it quietly behind me.
The corridor slides past, the floor springy beneath my feet. Ideas spin in my head, one in particular gaining hold. I think it can work, but I’ll need help. I’ll need Ravenna.
I scan each passing fae until I land on someone I recognize. A kind-faced woman with tawny eyes and intricate braids.
Rhialla. The woman from the kitchens.
I catch at her sleeve. She turns, her eyes widening as they wander up and down. “Sariah? What is it? Are you all right?”
“I need to find Ravenna.” I can’t resist stealing a peek at the hall behind me, letting go of a breath when I see that Amriel hasn’t followed. Yet. “Could you help me? Do you know where she is?”
“Oh. Sure. She’s downstairs in the performance hall, with Calen. I saw them earlier.”
The…performance hall? My confusion must show on my face, because Rhialla gestures down the corridor. “It’s that way. I can show you, if you want.”
I choke out my agreement and hurry after her. She seems to sense my urgency, because her steps are quick and light as we descend a stairwell and pass through the main hall. A meandering passageway leads to a pair of grandiose double doors, which open to…
I stop, my eyes wide, my head swiveling. Vines drip down the walls of some kind of high-ceilinged auditorium. Muted green light filters down from above. Dozens of fae fill the space, their backs to me, their attention on the stage at the head of the room, where white light cocoons a woman playing the harp. Her dress drapes around her like water, her hands flowing fluidly over the strings. Ethereal music fills the space, a sound like rain and sorrow.
My hand lands on my chest and presses. It’s beautiful.Riveting. “Is this a…concert?”
Rhialla inclines her head. “Of course. What else?”
“I just… I had no idea this was even here.”
She takes in my astonishment, her mouth tipping into a secretive smile. “Well, it is. And look. I think that’s them, over there.”
Sure enough, I follow her finger to a pair of familiar silhouettes, seated off to the side.
“Thank you.” Emotion fills me as I squeeze Rhialla’s hand in mine. “Somuch.”
