3. Madness at First Sight
Chapter 3
Madness at First Sight
WONDER BOY
T he luscious jungle I created for the admission trials smells of passion fruits, rain, and impending doom. Clusters of mist dampen the air and conceal an endless string of carefully-laid traps. A catered selection of magnificent, deadly plants are lying in wait to attract and eliminate the most powerful applicants, while the fever dreams take care of the rest.
The odd poisonous snake and a swarm of pyre butterflies even ventured in on their own.
I walk along the banks of the boiling stream that runs along this section of the labyrinth to the moonlit meadow and contemplate my masterpiece. My bare feet leave footprints in the rainbow-colored sand, but if I was to try and cross the stream, they’d be burned straight to the bone. A constant cloud of smoke rises from the waterfall rushing down to the bottomless pond, and the will-o'-the-wisps twinkle in the distance, enhancing the scenery’s mystique.
The rules of the trials are simple: only those who cross the labyrinth’s exit before the closing horn will join our elite group. I still hold the record for the fastest time, though I have to share the title with a mightier-than-thou, annoyingly talented Shadow Fae.
It’s no surprise they decided to pit Damian and I against each other as guardians.
The judges assigned us to the last two portions of the labyrinth, making us responsible for the only two exits that lead to victory. The one who lets fewer applicants through his trial will be crowned the winner, and there’s no way I grew an entire rainforest to end up in second place.
Anything goes tonight, except for cold-blooded murder. While the occasional accident has happened in the past, murdering the sons and daughters of the most influential High Fae is frowned upon.
Even though we're near the end of the night, only two applicants have made it to my exit. There’s barely fifteen minutes left, so I’m pretty confident of my victory.
A woman steps through the garden gate on top of the hill that marks the start of my territory and the entrance to the meadow, and I take cover behind a hedge of bleeding hearts.
I’ve never seen her before. A long braid cascades over her shoulder to her waist, but half of it has unraveled. A loose black curl snakes along the valley between her breasts, luring my eyes down to her cleavage. Freckles of blood from the previous trial pepper her pale neck.
My prideful smirk falls, wiped away by a sudden tension between my ribs.
She’s white as a snowdrop and graceful as a spider, so she’s a darkling, but I can’t hold that against her—she’s divine. I rustle the leaves of the willow tree towering above her to wish her luck.
She squints at the moving branches and maps the scenery with a serious pout, the beauty of the meadow clearly not appeasing her mistrust. The most direct path to the exit is through the marshes, but she’s still got to cross the boiling stream or the bottomless pond. Dark Fae seldom know how to swim, a basic life skill they should really work on.
Spiders and snowflakes have not fared well in my section of the labyrinth. None have managed to cross, a few of them stuck so deep in the mud that they’ll need reanimation.
Only a couple of darklings are expected to pass these trials, and that’s a shame, because it means the odds of her making it out are almost null. I’ll probably never see her again after tonight.
Sucks for me.
Lips pressed together, she observes the surface of the pond’s black, reflective water for a long minute. My chest deflates as she decides to climb the trellis to go around it. She carefully places a foot on the first rung, the wood creaking under her weight, her fingers testing the weathered vines for a strong grip. I mutter a curse under my breath.
The only safe way to cross was to cliff-dive to the center and swim ashore.
The mature canopy of ensnarer vines snakes to life, spooking her, and she cries out as she pushes off the ledge, landing chest-first at the back of the pond. Watching a beautiful dark Fae drown isn’t exactly on my bucket list, and I dig the balls of my feet into the earth.
She beats the water with her fists, arms flailing, and a succession of soft, rhythmic crackles grates through the air as she manages to freeze two large chunks of ice. Using them as buoys to keep afloat, she catches her breath. It takes immense power to sustain ice in this environment, and I let out a low whistle. The ground beneath my feet cools, demanding more energy to melt the ice, but I reign in my fire, curious to see what she’ll do next.
Clutching her icy floats, she waddles clumsily toward the beach, but my abs clench as I realize the vines aren’t finished with her. Ensnarers don’t mind getting wet. They slither along the steep rock cliff to reach the water, the friction of their leaves against the stone mimicking a low, hissing sound.
Ice only makes them angrier and more vicious, but the girl extends her arms to them instead of trying to escape. My throat tightens as they coil around her arms and waist. They’ll no doubt choke her before the closing horn blows.
Beads of mist cling to the bell-shaped flowers of the vines as my girl starts to sing. She doesn’t sing just any song, but the most sensual and heartbreaking rendition of the ballad of St. John’s Eve I’ve ever heard. The familiar lyrics form a haunting melody, and I can’t help but mouth the words along with her.
At sunset on St-John’s Eve
At the top of bare mountain
The Summer King lies in wait
Clock ticking down to dawn
Anything can happen
On top of the bald hill
For one night only
Even when it’s folly
But demons follow in the king’s wake
To prey on Eros’ many mistakes
Up they climb, footprints full of snakes
Beware of lies, illusions, and heartbreak
Flower for a spade
Blood for treasure
Gold for a hand
A simple “yes” that was forbidden
A promise that should be freely given
A witch’s heart’s not so easily mended
As the devil’s pride she has offended
At daybreak on St-John’s Eve
Gone is the lovers’ reprieve
And the chime of a far-off bell
Disperses the spirits of darkness
Blessed Flame. The vines deposit the girl on the shallow beach before weaving back into the trellis, and I press a hand to my beating heart. My cheeks throb like I’ve been slapped straight in the face, fingers and toes tingling with warmth.
Summer Fae know better than to roll their eyes at love at first sight, but by the Flame, I never thought it would happen to me.
The girl stumbles out of the pond, drenched to the bone. Her wet summer dress hugs her delicious form, and something inside me snaps. Before I can think twice about it, I slither closer to her, the thin but vigorous hedge of bleeding hearts still separating us.
“Tell me your name, Songbird,” I whisper through the leaves.
The girl’s hand jerks away from the foliage, and she peers through the vegetation. “Who’s asking?”
I skip ahead of her with a small laugh and round the corner of the hedge, allowing her to take in my silhouette. If she’s alarmed by my stature, it doesn’t show on her perfect face. Mist and magic hang thick in the air, but the Shadow mask covering my eyes and the upper part of my face helps me keep most of my secrets.
“Tell me your name,” I repeat patiently.
Water drips from her thick braid, her lovely feet covered in sand and mud. She tilts her chin up and raises her brows, not backing down. “Come into the light.”
I tiptoe closer to her, and she draws a sharp intake of breath. After a definite pause, she tucks her bottom lip between her teeth and angles her gaze to the side, a fierce blush tainting her cheeks.
I take advantage of her hesitation and walk all the way into her bubble, taking the edge off my forwardness with a smile. “Don’t make me ask again.”
Jaw slightly askew, she sways from the ball of her big toes to her heels. “I’m Beth.”
My tongue darts out to my bottom lip. “Beth. I love the sound of that.”
“What about you? Are you a sidhe…or a nymph?” She cracks, looking me up and down again, her initial embarrassment apparently forgotten.
A nymph? She can’t be serious. I’d be amused—if I wasn’t insulted. “Neither. I’m a guardian.”
Her nose wrinkles, the vibrant shade of red on her face about as charming as her chastising tone. “If you’re a guardian, you’re not supposed to speak to me until the trial is over.”
She springs ahead, but I fall into step with her.
“Go away, now. Let me focus.”
“Time is against you. But I could take you directly to the end of the labyrinth,” I offer quickly.
The corners of her mouth tense, and her previously nonchalant dismissal sharpens into anger. The dry click of her tongue leaves no room for interpretation. “Why would you do that?”
Her distrust is warranted, and I can’t fault her for it. I offer her a wolfish grin, knowing better than to let that seed of anger take root. “Every gift comes with a price.”
She holds both hands on her hips and considers me with great care, her annoyance morphing into a calculated glare. “And what would yours be, pray tell?” Her ocean-blue eyes shine in the dark, stealing my thoughts.
“A kiss,” I blurt out, sounding more confident than I feel.
I’m such an idiot for bending the rules in the first place, but I can’t help myself. There’s not enough time left for her to cross the marshes on her own, and if she fails the trial… I can’t take that chance.
I’ll steal a kiss from her before the night is done if it kills me.
“A kiss…” Her melodic laugh echoes in the fragrant summer night. “Are you sure you’re not a sidhe?”
Sidhes are hybrid beasts that inhabit our forests. They can take human form, and if you kiss them, you change into a beast, too. Forever.
“Quite sure.”
“That’s not a yes or a no. Sidhes are Fae who were cursed by the gods, so they share our blood and can’t lie. If you want me to believe you, I need a resounding yes or no.”
With a soft chuckle, I give in to her demand. “No, I’m not a sidhe.”
“And did you ever change into a beast and didn’t know how it happened?” she asks, checking that I’m not in denial about my sidhe nature, an interesting loophole that would have allowed me to answer with a lie.
Oh, I’m in love already.
“No. I swear to you I’ve never been a beast.”
“Are you a guardian, or a devil then?”
I grin at her keen logic. We’re in my father’s labyrinth, and she’s not about to trust the first demon that crosses her path. “Both. One kiss, and I will lead you out of here. You have my word.”
She nods in understanding and starts to walk again. “A venomous kiss from a fever dream is a clever way to take out the imprudent. The glistening abs add a nice touch, Wonder Boy.”
I chase after her and grab her arm, forcing her to a standstill. “No venom, no tricks. Just a kiss. I swear it.”
For a moment, she just stares at my grip on her elbow. The space where our skins touch tingles with magic, our bites of power surprisingly similar. I give her arm a gentle squeeze and slide my fingers down to her hand, taken aback by the freshness of her smooth, creamy skin.
The steady current of magic should reassure her that I’m not a construct of the labyrinth, at the very least.
Impatience and need mingle in my blood, her proximity making it almost impossible to wait. “Take the deal, Songbird. It’s a good one.”
She arches a sceptical brow. “Who are you, really?”
“Does it matter?”
I hook my finger around hers and pull her closer, my other hand darting out to cup the side of her face. Her wet skin soothes the blaze of my desire, and I hum in approval. I’ve never touched a Winter Fae before, and the sensation leaves me dizzy, my breaths coming in shallow, rapid bursts as if I’d just run twenty miles to reach her. Her alluring scent, though watered down, still carries hints of pine sap and frozen vanilla, making my mouth water.
“Going once.”
This is sorcery, I’m sure. Look at her eyes… I shake my head to regain my composure and lean forward. I’ve got a good foot on her, which leaves a few inches for her to cross.
Her troubled gaze flicks to my lips.
“Going twice…”
By Hephaistos, I will die if she says no.
Finally, she squeezes her eyes shut and stands on her tip-toes, crushing her mouth to mine.
I hum at the sweetness of victory.
It’s not my first kiss by any means, but it sure feels like it. It’s all new again, her wintry skin balancing out my fire, and I run my tongue across her bottom lip, begging for entry.
Eyes wide, she pulls away and covers her mouth with her hand. “Now, you have to make good on your promise.”
I squeeze the side of her face softly and lean in for a better taste. “I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you.”
She presses her index finger to my mouth, gentle and yet firm. “You said one kiss would do it.”
My forehead creases in confusion. I’ve never felt such an atmosphere, the plants almost stretching from their stems to sneak glances at us. She must feel it too.
“I’m a greedy devil,” I rasp, desperate for her to give in. “Let me be greedy with you, Songbird.”
She gives a small incline of the head. I would have missed it if I wasn’t so consumed by her every move, and smile from ear to ear as I bend down to kiss her again.
Ecstasy runs thick in my blood when she opens her mouth, her tongue searching for mine, their meeting sweeter for the wait. She links both arms around my neck and sinks her nails into my hairline. Fuck yes!
We kiss like we’ve forgotten how to breathe.
Hard and fast and slow and steady.
A kiss of passion. A kiss of fate.
Our magics greet each other. She’s the ice to my fire. I’m an unruly flame to the calm, smooth expanse of frost inside her veins. Her taste is fresh and sweet, but also piney, salty, and aromatic. It reminds me of abyssal violas, a rare delicacy harvested from northern skerries that the palace cooks use to decorate wedding cakes.
Both of her palms end up flat to my chest as I grip her waist, and she curses under her breath. Is she pushing me away or feeling me up—I can’t tell.
I look down to check.
Our breaths are ragged, our mouths hanging open as she tentatively traces the ridges of my stomach. I nudge her nose with mine, a very real, very enticing scenario taking a life of its own.
Half of my heated brain calculates how much time we have left before the closing horn, while the other half evaluates all the surfaces available to us, the pressure in my groin almost unbearable.
Before I can find a romantic way to verbalize the extent of my greediness, Beth pulls away again, and a burst of ice hovers in my chest at the loss.
“ Tick tock , Wonder Boy. You have a promise to keep.”
Her lips are bruised by the intensity of our kiss. The obvious sorrow twisting her features cramps my stomach, more sobering than a kick between the legs, and the urge to spread her down on the grass slips away like sand through an hourglass.
I link our fingers and pull her along. “Come on. Follow me.”
Half-running to give her a chance to keep up, I guide her through the will-o'-the-wisps. The pitfalls of the marshes have swallowed most of the other applicants whole, but I know every inch by heart. Beth holds on for dear life, and I instantly become addicted to the confident and yet timid way she holds my hand.
The wooden pier separating us from the last corner before the finish line scrapes the soles of my feet as I come to an abrupt stop, my arms instinctively wrapping around her shoulder. “I can’t go any further,” I say.
Out of breath, she grazes my mask with trembling fingers. “Are you real?”
The way her voice cracks at the end breaks my heart… Like she’s saying goodbye.
I twist her hand and press my lips to the sweet underside of her wrist. “Of course, I’m real. I’ll see you soon, Songbird.”
She stands on her tip-toes and pulls me down for a final kiss, and we devour each other until the pier itself quakes beneath my feet in warning. Time’s almost up.
I begrudgingly push her off me with both hands. “You have to go. Now!”
She dashes toward the exit and glances over her shoulder before rounding the corner, the loose strands of her dark braid knotted together. She disappears from view to cross the finish line, and my chest swells with untamed joy, my heart too wide for my ribcage.
Smiling like a lunatic, I comb my wet hair away from my face, the strands heavy with mist and sweat. No one can know about tonight, but now that she made it into the academy, she’ll be mine. Darkling or not, I will marry that girl.