Chapter 15 #2
A set of stairs winds from the outcrop, descending into mist and the mountains’ shadows. It’s narrow enough that we couldn’t walk it side by side. There is no handrail, only a sheer drop on either side, and lower down, patches of snow clog the way. I feel unsteady just looking at it.
But I’ve crossed the natural stone bridge from our cottage to the mainland hundreds of times without falling. I can do this.
I shove down the bits of my brain trying to remind me that I haven’t crossed in years and that the bridge doesn’t have steps.
I can do this.
“So I just need to cross the stairs, and then I can go home?”
Something escapes him that’s part breath and part laugh. “Not quite.”
Once again, I want to punch him. Does the Underworld make everyone more violent or just me?
“The staircase leads you to the start of your challenge—your chance.” He says that last part like it’s a gentler name for it—a kinder one. Like referring to death as “passing away” or “going to sleep.”
My challenge? I squint into the shadow cast by the clawing peaks.
“Just wait.”
One of the ravens squawks, and gray sunlight creeps over the mountains, pushing back the darkness below.
At first I think it’s natural rock. But only for a fraction of a second, because natural rock doesn’t form right angles and perfect squares… or doors.
Little channels twist and wind in nonsense shapes, cut from the dark glassy stone of the mountain. They stretch into the distance, rising in tiers until they reach the peak opposite where a gateway stands.
I stare, struggling to make sense of the scale.
The columns flanking the gateway are hewn from rock and stretch halfway up the mountain.
The gates are huge—so huge. They seem fit not for people or even fae but for concepts.
The sea could pass through there or the sky or night or darkness—or death. They are far, far beyond mortal scale.
“What is this?”
“My labyrinth. It is of my kingdom. Of me. Yet it is also… wild. Its own. That gate can take you back to the surface world—for you it will lead to that little slab of rock you call home. If you can reach it.”
I blink. I realize. I bite back a groan.
They aren’t channels. They’re walls. The spaces between them are paths in his labyrinth. Cross roads. Winding turns. Dead ends.
Even with it all set out before me, I can’t see a route to the gateway.
“By day, you will pit yourself against this place and try to get home. By night, you will be my fiancée, perfectly behaved, just as you promised.”
I’ve been gaping at the unfathomable maze, but now my mouth snaps shut and my head snaps around to him. Dread blooms in my chest, an ugly, choking flower. “When am I supposed to sleep—to rest? And this cold—I can’t survive this in a dress.”
“Your sleep is not my concern. I’ve fulfilled my side of our bargain and provided you with your chance. It’s up to you how you tackle it.” He smirks, wider than I’ve ever seen it before, as though he’s truly enjoying this.
Meanwhile, I would truly enjoy slapping that look off his face.
“As for the cold, consider this my one and only act of charity.” He slips his jacket off and sweeps it around my shoulders.
Fists clenched, mind churning, I take a breath and formulate a question. “How do I get back to the fortress?” I glance in the direction I think it lies in, but it’s hard to get my bearings when I’m surrounded by peaks that block my view.
He glances to one side as though he’s fighting not to roll his eyes. “The same way you got here. At sunset, you’ll be transported back.”
“And have to start all over again?” That would be classic fae torture—forced back to the beginning each day.
A deep sigh, like I’m the most foolish creature in the Underworld. “And the next morning, you’ll be returned to the same location you left.” The corner of his mouth twitches. “Not that I’m expecting you’ll make it past the first level.”
“Level?” I turn back to the labyrinth stretching out ahead.
“Levels. Tiers. Whatever you want to call them, there are six in total, leading to the gate.”
The nearest is the narrowest, but from this angle it’s hard to judge how much larger the others are, no matter how much I squint. One thing that’s unmistakable even from this distance: the line between each level is a sheer cliff.
“You’ll need to find the gateway from one tier to the next and there”—a dark glint enters his eyes—“you’ll face a trial. Only if you prevail may you proceed.”
“And if I fail?” The question comes out barely above a whisper.
He shrugs. “Depends. Others who’ve tried have faced all sorts. Lost time. Terrible agony. Death.”
Nothing new, then. I almost laugh. But a horrible kind of curiosity tugs on me. “What happens to those who fail to escape?”
“They are still within. Abominations.”
I was wrong. This just might be worse than the alternative.
“But don’t worry, my sweet nothing. If you fail to escape, you’ll merely stay in the Underworld forever as its queen and my bride.”
That shit-eating smirk is the last thing that disappears as he bursts into his flock of ravens, leaving me alone on the side of the mountain.
I am going to murder him.
That is, if I survive these bloody stairs.