Exquisite Ruin (The Labyrinth #1)

Chapter 12

When I open my eyes, I find myself drenched by something much colder than morning dew or a temple bath. Half my body is still in the underground river, the upper half washed up on a stone bank. The cave ceiling is much lower now, the walls much closer, the air even chillier. I’m in a large natural-seeming tunnel underground. It curves around me in a gentle arc. The water is calmer, if still moving, making my legs bob like a corpse’s.

But I’m alive, somehow.

Daesra is crouched on his hooves on the bank next to me, his arms draped over his legs, hands loose and dripping, as if he’s just dragged me partway out. His transmuted flame floats nearby, which is how I can see. Otherwise it would be pitch black.

I immediately roll away from him to spew up water. I cough until I feel I might split from it. When I flop onto my back, gasping, I realize I’m completely healed, despite my newly raw throat, burning lungs, and freezing limbs. I wonder if I would have woken up at all, without his healing. If I would have drowned.

I definitely would have drowned had I gone through that tunnel alone.

I look up at the daemon, meeting his eyes, and I remember to be afraid of him, all at once. But he doesn’t leap for me, nails at the ready. Quite the opposite. He smiles down at me almost sadly.

“See, I wasn’t always a monster, was I?” His smile drifts away. “Sometimes you’ve played that role for me.”

No, he’s not always a monster, even now. He helped me back there, against the spider-creature—broke the rules, according to his own guidelines. Unless, of course, he intends to make me his captive again. And that might be treating me kindly, after everything I just saw in the memory. My all-too-willing betrayal.

He might decide to do worse than take me captive again.

“Daesra—” I choke.

He frowns down at me, but his eyes are so tired . “Why do you sound afraid? I said that I was angry with you, not that I intended to skin you alive. Though don’t tempt me.”

I recognize that for the jest it is, thank the gods.

“I’m not afraid from what just happened—but from the memory.”

“Oh. That.” He barks a laugh. “Don’t worry, my god of a mother is a bitch, if that’s your concern.”

“No—”

He cuts me off. “Though she’s perhaps even more my father now. Sea was already like a father, and since she ate Sky—for which I don’t blame her, save that he must have tasted awful—she’s something else entirely. I think they’re like two gods in one and going by Horizon now. You knew about them before I did, obviously. Back then, I wasn’t exactly receiving messengers from the Tower.” He shrugs. “They’re still a bitch. Twice over.”

I don’t know what to think about Sea—Sky— Horizon , and there’s no room left inside me to ponder such a heaven-shaking transformation among the gods. How does a god eat their consort, anyway?

“I loved you, too,” I blurt, because I can’t think of anything else to say.

He sighs. “And it didn’t matter in the end, did it? I don’t know which is worse—thinking you never loved me or knowing that you did.” He flicks something invisible off one of his nails and stands abruptly. “I already knew you betrayed me at my divine parent’s behest. I’d guessed before you brought me to the Tower, bound. So I’m no angrier now than I was then, and to be honest, I’m feeling wearier than anything, at the moment.”

He braces one hand on his knee and leans forward, holding the other out for me.

I stare at it, unsure what to make of that, as well. Truce, or something else? Something better or worse?

A noise saves me from deciding, coming from farther downstream. It’s a soft scraping on stone, a wet rasp. Daesra spins, hands ready to turn his unending pain into power.

“ Wait ,” I cry, because I hear something else. Snorting.

I’m up before I’m ready to be walking, stumbling forward, desperate tears already in my eyes as I round a large rock to see the soaked little chimera shuffling along in the light cast by Daesra’s flame, limping, barely able to lift his paws, his broken wing dragging pathetically beside him. I don’t know how long he’s been wandering in the dark like this. I especially don’t know how he survived the tunnel, but I don’t care. I fall to my knees in front of him, scraping my skin in my haste, touching him gently even as a violent sob builds within me. All of my grief and fear and relief pour out at once.

“You’re alive,” I gasp, tears streaming hot down my face. “You’re alive, you’re alive. Stop moving. ” He’s trying feebly to jump up and lick my cheek, and I choke on a frustrated laugh through my sobs. Swallowing everything as best I can, I turn to Daesra. “Where are my needles? I need to heal him.” I can’t find the leather packet tucked in my tunic like I last left it. Either I lost them in the water, or he removed them after saving me.

The daemon is looking at me strangely, as if he’s never seen me before. Wordlessly, he passes me the leather packet, but he puts a hand on my shoulder that makes me pause as he crouches down beside me.

He stabs his fingertip with a thumbnail. “Let me. Hold him still.”

I can barely believe it. But I follow his instructions, especially when Pogli yelps at the straightening of his wing. I’m comforted in knowing—through personal experience—that the pain of the break will soon fade. But that’s not all the daemon does. While the chimera sits, shivering and whimpering, Daesra begins to run his hands gently over his mane, his feathers, his fur. I can feel the heat coming off him from where I kneel.

Soon the little creature is dry and energetic, shaking out his mane and fluffing his little wings. He bounds around the two of us in excitement, his pig’s tail wiggling.

I stare at Daesra, dumbfounded. “Thank you.”

“It was nothing to me.” He pauses, standing. “But not to you.”

He holds his hand out again.

This time, I take it. He heals me, too—my sore throat and lungs, even my freshly scraped knees—before he lets me go.

And then we both walk, starting off downstream. I’m silent at first, unsure as I navigate the riverbank and this strange new proximity to Daesra. I’m not fighting him or anything else. I’m not fleeing from him or the maze. We’re just… walking… through the darkness of the cave. Together.

“You’ve changed,” Daesra says eventually.

I choke on another laugh, unsure what to say. “I have an aunt, apparently.”

“I know your story fairly well by now. Better than you, of course. Do you want me to tell it?”

Once again, I can’t believe he would offer. I nod numbly, hugging myself against the chill wafting gently though the cave from the underground river.

“I thought you were sent to try to kill me.” He actually smiles at this, as if the notion were charming. “I found it amusing then, since even at your strongest you would have a very difficult time of it. Many have tried. You see, I was intentionally angering the gods, as I told you. Particularly Sun, because he’s everything I’m not—everything I thought I wanted to be and now despise. You know what happened at the Tower. After that, I made myself into what I truly desired. The shape of my vengeance. With my new strength, I tore down temples, corrupted mortals, killed whomever the gods sent after me. But I especially tried to tarnish Sun’s image. That’s where your mother comes in.” He gives me what I can only say is an apologetic glance—more impossibility upon impossibility—before he adds, “She is, in fact, the daughter of Sun.”

Gaping at him instead of looking forward, I stumble. “My mother is a demigod?”

He shrugs, catching my arm at the same time. Steadying me before continuing and leaving the warm reminder of his hand against my skin. “Not exactly. She’s mortal, if long-lived, perhaps stronger than average. It’s hard to say how much the gods’ side will manifest. Her sister of the same parentage, however, is close enough to immortal for the difference to be inconsequential and one of the most powerful witches to ever walk the earth. She didn’t even bind herself to become so. She still has her godlike aspects, and her potent witchcraft atop that. I’m not entirely sure how—maybe she gets it from her mother. It’s as if her abilities are as much a part of her as her piece of the divine. Even I would hesitate to cross her, and I have no argument with her. Other than through you , that is. She’s who taught you everything you know, while you stayed with her on her remote island for much of your youth. Although, apparently, she’s allowed herself to be used in my divine parent’s plot against me. Maybe I owe her one, after all.” He hesitates, musing. “And yet, perhaps I struck the first blow, in her eyes.”

“How?” I can’t help but be fascinated by what should probably be the most familiar story of all to me.

I’m also afraid of my role in it.

Daesra is almost relaxed—or resigned, maybe—as he walks and talks, glancing at me only occasionally. “Your mother, incidentally, is a queen, your father a mortal king, and they think far too highly of themselves, but that’s not why I started plaguing them. Mostly I wanted to insult Sun through the few ways one can sully the perfection of the gods: through their reputation among mortals and through their more sulliable children. Since Sky forced Sea to deny my parentage, I assaulted the honor of Sun through his daughter—the daughter who wasn’t the powerful witch. I said I was the product of your mother’s infatuation with a bull.”

I turn on him, incredulous. “ You started the rumor that my mother fucked bulls?”

I can see he’s smiling, even though he’s not looking directly at me. “It seems you didn’t take it well at the time, either, even if you two aren’t terribly close. Neither did Sun. He couldn’t confront me himself, since it would be beneath him to interfere. Impure , as the gods were trying to avoid that by then. But he essentially put out a call for my death. Eventually, you answered. Or so I thought. I didn’t know who you were or that you were a witch at first, only that you must have come to try to kill me like everyone else. But you were far more insidious. You didn’t come to make any feeble attempt on my immortal life or distract me while someone more powerful did. You came to seduce me, bind me, and bring me to the Tower for punishment. And it wasn’t at Sun’s direction, but my mo—Horizon’s.” There’s a ghost of disappointment in his voice, long dead. “Sun would have preferred my head on a pike.”

“What did Horizon want with you?” I don’t remember, only that my past self hadn’t liked it.

“Probably to lock me away to keep me out of mischief, or to shame me in front of the gods before putting an end to me, if Horizon is anything like Sky was. I don’t know if he still exists in some form within this new god or if only his powers do. I didn’t get a good look—and that’s your fault. As was our eventual arrival in this maze.” He frowns. “Like I said, I’m not entirely clear on the details. My memories from my second visit to the Tower are hazy, thanks to you and your subduing spell.”

I don’t know why I ask when I probably won’t like the answer. “Why did I propose such a trial as this?”

The corner of his mouth twists. “Much like your aunt, you’ve always craved a personal sort of power as a witch, not dominion through laws and armies and levied taxes. Namely, you want to bow to no one, fear no one, particularly through the power that immortality would grant you. But you never wanted anyone to have to bow to you, either, despite what you did to me. I believe you asked to challenge me in an arena in which you could best me fairly, where you might stand even the slightest chance, because you felt guilty about binding me. As well you should, though I don’t entirely know what goes on in that head of yours, then or now.”

Nor do I , I think.

“Or perhaps that’s wishful thinking on my part,” he continues, “and I’m being too generous in my estimation of you. Perhaps you had to offer still more to satisfy the gods for such a boon as immortality, and whatever reward you were initially promised for my capture wasn’t enough for you. Like I said, you’re tenacious and ambitious—quite literally cutthroat in pursuing your objectives. Godlike status is all you’ve ever wanted, only minus the worshippers.” He gestures around. “In either case, here we are, wandering this maze like rats.”

“Drowned rats.” But my voice is as feeble as my jest. Knowing my true story, I don’t feel bolstered. I want to lie down.

Back then, was I entirely feeding him falsehoods with honeyed lips? I never told him I loved him, after all. Even if I felt bad about binding him, I still dragged him into this maze in my quest for immortality. Did his suffering never matter as much to me as my own gain?

I can sense the complicated snarl of my own thoughts and emotions in the memories, though they’re still obscure. There’s something more there, I could swear it. But caring for him doesn’t make me any less of a monster, since I betrayed him all the same. It almost makes me more of one.

Daesra exhales, sounding truly tired. “Do as you will, Sadaré. You’re no longer my captive. I made you such to be able help you with impunity, if I’m being honest. But even if we’re again to be at odds, if I’m still being honest, I can’t find it in me to wish you dead or forever lost. This is knowledge that’s likely unwise for me to give you, based on our history.”

After everything I’ve done to him only for more power, he’s not going to fight me any longer, let alone kill me. He sought excess power himself, in wanting to prove his divine heritage to the gods, not just among humanity as a demigod. And yet, to gain it, he sacrificed only himself—his soul. A lot, no doubt, but a cost borne only by him. Those he’s killed since were trying to kill him first. Fair is fair, though perhaps I only think that now because I can’t remember exactly what he did to them.

Meanwhile, I’ve been trying to sacrifice him to achieve my ends—unfairly. Until, perhaps, I woke up in this maze next to him with no memory.

I should want any advantage I can get, since the odds don’t weigh in my favor at all any longer. And yet I’m not sure I deserve an edge after how I played the game against him before.

“I won’t use this knowledge against you,” I murmur, looking down at the ground, rubbing my arms against the cold.

The daemon looks at me wryly. “Are you certain? Don’t lie to me anymore.”

I don’t say anything at first, not wanting to lie, either. “Can we at least be neutral?” I don’t dare suggest friends . “Call a truce, like you suggested before?”

“Sadaré—” He barks a laugh. “With such fire between us, we will never be neutral.”

I snort. “I don’t feel fiery at the moment.”

I stumble again a moment later, my toes numb in my wet sandals. Before I can steady myself—or perhaps fall flat on my face this time—Daesra catches me. He doesn’t stop at righting me but scoops me up into strong arms. Carrying me. Like I never thought he would again.

I nearly squawk in surprise, my back stiff in his embrace. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” he says, striding forward without looking down at me.

“You don’t owe me any kindness. I just need a moment to retie myself, or use my needles to—”

“Shut up, Sadaré.” But the words have no bite. The daemon’s voice is low and unfathomably weary. “For once. Allow me this much in peace. Just let me love you, in this moment, as if you were not you and I were not me.”

His words stun me into silence. And yet, I can still hear them: Just let me love you.

He still loves me.

I let him carry me, if only because I’m too shocked to do anything else. His radiant heat warms me until my shivering stops, though I still can’t help nestling a cheek into his shoulder. My body wants to be closer to his, no matter what my rational mind might be telling it. Before I know what I’m doing, I turn into him even more, throwing my arm around his shoulder, pressing my face into his chest. Holding him in return. Breathing him in like air.

When I do, he hesitates, his steps faltering.

But Daesra must feel something, too, beyond surprise. Because the clack of his hooves on stone starts to match the pace of my heartbeat, his grip on me tightening, his stride lengthening. He doesn’t say anything, but his silence has focus, intention, like his forward motion. As if he’s formulating a plan, pressure building behind it—a fierce desire, with me in mind.

We seem to have started something difficult to stop, as inevitable as a landslide or waterfall or wildfire—though I’m not sure I want to stop it. And yet, when his composure breaks, I don’t know what will be unleashed. Part of me is afraid.

As if he can sense my fear, he walks even faster—excitement rising in him.

That, in turn, excites me.

We are indeed fuel to each other’s fire. The question is: Who will burn out first, or be consumed? I’m not sure I want to know anymore. I don’t want to ponder or scheme. I just want to be here with him, in this moment.

As if he were not him, and I were not me.

I occasionally peek out at my surroundings, but I don’t move much, so as not to break this strange spell. The tunnel isn’t branching, only bending in gentle curves that follow the mild downward slope of the underground river. Even so, I don’t know where Daesra is taking me with such haste. How he knows there is something ahead, waiting for us both.

But he knows.

When we round another bend, I spot it: a cave within the cave. An arching threshold in the tunnel wall opens into a small enclosed space with sloping surfaces and smooth ledges. It looks like a pocket of peace amidst the chaos of the labyrinth, even more so than the calm, dark river with only gentle curves of the tunnel around it and nothing lurking in any shadows. It’s almost as if he or I—or us both together—willed the strange room into existence. Maybe the maze wants us to do more than walk or even strive together.

It wants us to be together.

The thought seems too sweet for this place, but I can’t help indulging it. My caution still manages to speak louder.

“Daesra, I don’t know if we should trust—”

“I don’t know if I should trust you ,” he rides over me, marching faster for the small space that awaits us. “But I will for now, if you answer me this.”

He stops on the threshold, just before ducking inside.

I’ve lost hope I would ever regain his trust. I don’t even know if I deserve to have it again. But maybe he’s willing to meet me partway on that journey—in the manner he does best.

My heart begins to pound even faster. “Yes?”

“If we go in here, will you allow yourself to be mine, at least until we leave these walls?”

My mouth is dry. There’s little doubt in my mind what sort of things he has planned for me. More than his own heat floods through me, pooling deep in my belly. I’m dizzy with it.

“Yes,” I say, not caring if this is a terrible idea.

His red eyes are hungry. Burning. And not with hatred, but lust—one fire consuming the other. “Good. Let me know if it’s too much. Until then, I need you to be silent, unless I grant you permission to speak.”

And then he sweeps me into the waiting embrace of the cool stone darkness.