Chapter 16
I SURVIVE THE staircase. Just.
That’s despite the wind tugging on my clothes, the ice on lower levels and the precipitous drop that disappears into eddies of mist that whisper of an ill fate.
Eventually, legs shaking, heart racing, I reach a large door with a pair of brass knockers.
At first, I place my hand on it, about to push, but then I remember the warnings about politeness and instead, I lift a knocker and rap three times.
There’s a grinding that vibrates through my feet, like the stone is thinking, then the door swings inward. An invitation.
When I accept and enter the labyrinth, it shuts behind me with a solid, echoing boom. That’s it. I’m in. For good or ill.
A corridor stretches left and right, open to the sky above, with turnings leading deeper.
It’s dark down here on the lowest level—the snow collected in corners tells me it gets little sunlight.
The cold makes my chest tight. I’m unlikely to have an episode where my heart rate slows right now, but I’m at risk of the pains that come with it speeding up, especially if I ever come here under the influence of belladonna.
Tucking my hands into the sleeves of the king’s jacket, I take mental note to put warm clothes on ready for dawn tomorrow.
For now, though, the smooth hewn walls offer no clues, so I pick a direction and start.
The king has proven himself to be a royal pain in the backside, so I ignore the first turning and the next, aiming toward the next tier and the final gate. If this labyrinth is his, I wouldn’t put it past him to make the correct path the one furthest away.
It’s not long before I hear skittering and catch glimpses of something on the edge of my vision. Small shapes, dark, swift. I spin, trying to get a better look. Rodents, maybe? Or large insects?
Otherwise, it’s quiet, and after a while, I welcome the scurrying sounds of creatures unknown—it’s company after all. In the quiet moments, the empty corridor stretching on and on makes the nape of my neck prickle with an eerie feeling I don’t want to dwell on.
I keep going until the corridor bends right, then further still until I hit another bend. The passage twists and turns so many times, I lose track of what direction I’m facing. I can’t see the mountains surrounding the maze, even though it feels like they should be visible over the walls.
When I hit my first dead end, I groan and turn back. By the time I hit the third, I just sigh.
My next route looks more promising, lifting my spirits even as my feet drag and tiredness shoves its way in. I take several turns, choose left over right, straight on, right. The path widens ahead, and I speed up, heart leaping at the change in scenery…
… And reach the double doors I entered through.
I stare. Huff. Mutter “bastard” under my breath.
Then I set off again.
When I come back tomorrow, I’ll bring something to record my way—chalk or string or even better, my notebook—I can sketch out a map that should help me keep track.
Time coils and stretches, losing all meaning until the sun crests over the labyrinth’s high walls, giving me some sort of guidance. Leaning against the featureless wall, I look up from my rest and work out which direction the gate and therefore the next level must be.
I regret not bringing food, but when I turn the next corner, I find a jug of water and a plate with a small pie sitting at its center. A rich, savory smell creeps down the corridor.
There are stories of humans trapped in fae realms after eating the food. And this sudden appearance could be a trap. But I’ve already eaten food in the Underworld, and I can’t get much more stuck than this, can I?
Besides, my stomach hollows out, sore from lack, and I sway on my feet. The only alternative is to keep going, and I’m not sure how long I can manage that.
So I take another rest, staring at the pie, and eventually I reach out for it and gingerly take a bite.
The pastry is crisp, the gravy rich and the meat tender. I make short work of it. There are no glasses, so I drink straight from the jug.
Maybe there’s some part of the labyrinth that is benevolent. Maybe Drystan just doesn’t want me to die. After all, where would be the fun in that? And he may be the King of Death, but I doubt even he could marry a dead woman.
As I’m licking gravy from my fingers, there’s a sound.
Not the skittering of those little creatures, something else. Something large and shuffling. I’m slow getting to my feet, but I no longer sway.
Eyes fixed on the direction the sound is coming from, I drain the jug and clutch it, ready to… I don’t know—throw it?
The shuffling grows louder. My heart follows suit. I back away as a breathy, gravelly snort drifts around the corner.
First comes a shadow, stretching across the ground, large… larger.
Then comes a shaggy, lumbering creature.
Faintly humanoid but huge and hunched, with matted, streaked hair dangling from its body.
A pair of flinty eyes peer out from what looks like a head—it’s little more than a hump above hulking shoulders.
Between the hair and bent stance I can’t tell how many limbs it has, but among the thudding steps, something hard clicks on the stone ground.
Now it’s emerged fully, I can see it’s twice my height, almost as tall as the walls surrounding us, and as it takes a step, I catch a glimpse of ivory claws, each as long as my hand.
Those glinting eyes turn on me and the monster lets out a shriek or a roar or something that’s like both sounds layered over one another a hundred times over.
I drop the jug and run.
The shuffling sound is gone, replaced by the slap of many feet running and the click of sharp claws.
Gripping the wall, I round one corner, then another. Sharp edges scrape my fingers, leaving them bloody.
I’m already breathless, clutching my chest as I go as quickly as I can. I’m no fool—I know I’m not quick enough. No matter how many turns I take, I don’t lose the monster. Running won’t save me.
My eyes burn as I search for something that might.
A slanting darkness opens up in the wall to my left. I almost miss it, assuming it’s merely a shadow. But when I draw level, I catch a glimpse of light beyond.
It’s a passageway. A narrow one. And the slanting shadow is a door hidden in the rock, only visible because it’s open.
No time to think, I grab the wall and pivot, using my momentum to send me into the narrow passage. The door pulls shut behind me as I take in the small, ceilingless room—more like a cupboard, really.
I try to catch my breath and watch the sky, wishing myself anywhere else.
There’s a cry. The echoes play tricks on my ears, making it sound like a word.
“Where?”
“Where?”
“Where?”
Eyes shut, I press into the wall and make myself small, breathing into the little space between my knees, hoping that will muffle the noise.
“How’s the first level going?”
My head snaps up.
Above, sitting on the wall, apple in one hand, dagger in the other, peering down at me as though I’m a curiosity in a box, is the king.
“What are you doing here? Thought you’d be getting your beauty sleep,” I hiss.
“I don’t need it.” He shrugs like that’s self-evident and cuts a slice off the apple.
“I was curious about how you were doing.” A guttural cry comes from beyond my hidden doorway, and he peers over, raising his eyebrows.
“Not well, it seems.” He raises the dagger to his mouth and takes the apple slice from it, widening his eyes at me.
I glare at him, but the effect is broken by a thud outside that has me shrinking into the wall. “Shh. You’re giving me away,” I whisper.
He ignores me, canting his head as he watches the monster ram into the door again. Its churning cries grow more excited, a burble of what sounds like laughter running through. At least the door opens outward, so the monster’s hammering won’t push it open.
The king shakes his head, attention returning to me as if I’m some poor unfortunate who’s brought all this on myself and not the victim of his whims. “If you can’t understand our ways, you’ll never survive.”
Ignoring him, I slide my hands over the smooth walls, hoping for another hidden door that will open under my touch or a subtle crevice that will reveal some secret passageway.
“You do know this is a dead end, right?” He pares another slice from the apple.
“So I’m discovering.” I’m stuck here until the creature gets bored and gives up.
It slams into the door again. A crack races across its surface.
I press into the opposite wall and stare, cold spilling over me like I’m already dead. It’s going to break through.
“This is the easiest level, you know,” comes the mocking voice from above. “If you’re not up to it, you can give up now—stay in the warmth and safety of my fortress.”
“Forever? No thanks.”
But my voice wavers, and I’m ashamed to say, I’m considering it. I’m not built for this. I’m not strong or fast. I have no stamina. I can’t fight a monster.
Another slam. Another crack spreads from the first.
Maybe I should just accept my fate. Even if I can’t escape, there has to be some way I can get a message to my brother.
The monster roars in rising excitement, “Here!”
I blink. Wait… that doesn’t just sound like “here,” the creature really is saying the word. Only there are other voices too.
“Get her.”
“Now!”
“Nearly.”
“Here. Here.”
The words layer and blend, some unintelligible, all garbled, like a room full of people shouting over each other.
If you can’t understand our ways…
I hold my breath and listen to the voices. “Where is she?”
“We found her, you fool.”
“She’s here, ready for us to eat in one.”
“No, we’ll teach her a lesson first,” a slithering voice says, its tone acid.
They’re all different. Tones and pitches, but also accents. Some rounded and soft, like Annem’s. Some blunt and hard, like Pa’s.
“Don’t hurt her. She doesn’t know.” That dissenting voice is quickly drowned out.
The first crack widens. Through it, flinty eyes fix on me. A roar rattles my bones.