Chapter 29 #2
My legs kick out wildly, my claws tearing at the skin around his hands in an attempt to get him to release me. But he only smiles wider, a sinister claim of victory, as the sickening crack of my windpipe breaks beneath his grip.
“Xezbeth!” Isadora’s voice rings out. The Demon’s eyes are wide, red pools, and he drops me to the floor, turning towards Isadora.
He barely makes it all the way around before her second dagger embeds itself in his chest, and he releases a howl of pain. The Demon sinks to his knees, his upper body teetering toward the ground. Before he can faceplant, his body disappears completely.
Isadora stares at the space where the Demon—Xezbeth, I suppose—once stood. She licks her dry lips, panting as she straightens.
“That’s twice now,” I say from my spot on the ground. My voice is hoarse as my windpipe works to heal itself.
Isadora waves me off. She reaches out with one hand, which I use to pull myself up.
“Maybe now, you’ll finally be convinced I don’t want to kill you,” she says.
“How did you know his name?” I ask, ignoring her statement.
Isadora stares at me incredulously. “This is my home. My family is in line for the throne. What kind of Queen would I be if I didn’t know the key players of the Court?
” She sighs, her gaze bouncing between the wall in front of us that splits left and right.
I bend down to retrieve my sword and sheath it. Isadora veers left, and I follow.
“He is the Demon of Lies,” she continues. “His gift is spinning false truths. The questions he asked were to get us to believe each other’s false truths, not the actual truth itself.”
“And then kill each other,” I finish.
Isadora nods. “Exactly.” She reaches behind herself and runs her fingertips across the back of her neck and upper shoulders, her skin a blistering red. She lets out a painful hum as her fingers sweep across her sun-burned skin.
“The suns have finally moved,” she says with a relieved sigh.
I tip my face toward the sky, noting how the suns’ positions have changed, shade pouring over the stone walls in various places.
Indeed, Isadora will have relief for a brief time. But what if we can’t leave this maze by tomorrow? Isadora will undoubtedly be subject to another scorching day, the suns’ rays pounding down on her pale skin.
Having to fight is one thing, but having to fight while in pain…
My thoughts trail off as something else dawns on me. “Isadora, your daggers—where are they?”
She pauses, then looks to me before palming either side of her hip. “Fuck. Xezbeth crushed one, and the other disappeared along with his body.”
“We need to get you another weapon,” I tell her.
Isadora blows out a breath. “That would be moot. I can’t wield a sword as well as you. The small throwing daggers were the only weapons I felt confident wielding.”
“We need to find you something,” I argue.
Isadora finally halts, prompting me to do the same so we face each other.
“In all candor, we both know there is nothing waiting for me at the palace. Nick will not marry me, nor would I expect him to, given the circumstances.” Her eyes drop to my left hand before they again meet mine.
“And while I am confident in his ability to protect me, my father will only be docile for so long before he stages a coup. I won’t risk a war in this realm and endanger my people.
If this is where I’m meant to die, then so be it. ”
I stare back at her, stunned into silence. At first, I’d thought Isadora’s desire to be Queen was to also claim herself as Nick’s wife before I understood it was to be out of her father’s reach. But now, I realize there is so much more to it.
Isadora would be the kind of ruler who genuinely cares about their people, not just politics. Sitting upon a throne would serve a purpose more than to hoard power and authority over her subjects. Isadora wouldn’t just be a merciful Queen.
She’d be a great one.
“You deserve to be Queen.”
Isadora laughs. “Yes, well, my chances of that are slim to none, don’t you think?” Again, her gaze dips to my left hand.
A part of me wants to tell her Nick and I have no plans of staying, that we are actively trying to get Belial to take the Throne.
Part of whatever bargain Nick makes with his uncle will include protection for Isadora, but what if all this is in vain?
If Nick and I can’t leave, he will remain here, as King.
He won’t marry Isadora, even to protect her, now that he and I are—
“Hello.”
My attention snaps towards a small, angelic voice.
A child stands before us, no more than three years old, dressed in a simple white tunic.
Behind her, the image of the foreground shifts, revealing a large, looming gate of marble.
Storm clouds swirl within it, making its entrance appear less than welcoming.
An inscription is engraved in the top of the arched entryway: Porta Unius.
The Gate of One.
But it’s not the foreboding gate before us that makes my jaw fall.
“Do you see her too?” I ask Isadora.
Her eyes crease in confusion, but she nods.
“Does she look like anyone to you?” I have to be sure.
“She looks like a child, Rhi. One I do not recognize.”
My bottom lip trembles.
“Hello,” Isadora finally answers, her voice laced with caution.
“You have reached the Porta Unius,” the child says with a bright smile and sparkling golden eyes. “You have both done well, but only one of you may enter the Gate.”
Isadora and I exchange glances.
“And what happens to the person who enters?” Isadora asks.
“She will return to comfort and safety.”
“And the one who stays behind?” I follow.
“She will remain to defeat the Labyrinth.”
Again, Isadora and I look at each other. I can already hear Nick’s voice urging me to run through the Gate and not look back. To return to him. To keep my promise. I half-expect Isadora to bolt without thinking twice, yet her feet remain planted, dark eyes fixed on me.
“Choose carefully,” the child warns. “Fate will be forever altered by the decision of who returns and who remains.”
For the third time, Isadora’s eyes fall to my left hand. Linger. Then, she says, “You have to go.”
I shake my head. “We both know you’ll never survive, Isa.”
She smiles, tilting her head. “You called me Isa.”
“I—” My words catch in my throat as I consider I’d just called her by a nickname, something usually only friends do. Is that what we are then? Friends?
“You have to go,” she repeats.
“No. You have no weapon.”
“Then give me your sword.”
“You can’t fight.” Impatience entwines my words. I can’t leave her here. If I do, she will die. I can feel the certainty within my blood as it screams for me to do whatever necessary to get her through that Gate.
“I’ll fight you if I have to,” she retorts.
Finally, I draw my sword and hold the pointed tip at the hollow of her throat, just as I’d done in training. “Move. Now.”
The pain in the ass doesn’t budge. I push the blade against the delicate skin at her throat. Blood gathers along her neckline.
“For fuck’s sake, Isadora, go!”
A single tear spills down her cheek, but she still doesn’t move. Once more, she stares at my left hand. “He’ll never forgive me.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and press my lips together, because she’s wrong. It’s not her who has to worry about forgiveness. I promised to do whatever necessary to return to him, and I am breaking that promise right where I stand.
“No,” I whisper. “He’ll never forgive me.’’
Her lower lip wobbles.
“Isa, please.”
With my sword still at her throat, Isadora finally nods and backpedals toward the gate. The child with the wide, stunning eyes watches us with a neutral expression.
Isa cranes her neck to glance behind her, throat working to swallow as she takes in the tumultuous clouds and streaks of lightning fissuring through the sky.
“You’re going to make a great Queen,” I tell her, and she whips her head in my direction. I grab her arm and pull her towards me. “Tell Nick that I love him.”
With that, I shove her backward, sending her tumbling through the gate and disappearing into the thunderclouds.
When the last of her screams die out, I drop the sword, stumbling backward as I choke on sob. For all my earlier conviction, doubt now pummels through me like gunfire. It fires and fires and fires, sending me backward until my shoulders hit the stone wall, and I crumple to my knees.
What if I made the wrong choice? What if that was my one chance to return to him, to have the future Nick and I long for, and I made a terrible decision?
What if that decision means she will never get to exist?
I blink through my tears, to the tiny face looking down at me. A face I’ve seen before, in memories that were not my own.
Dark brown hair falls slightly past her shoulders, absent familiar golden threads. She is mine in every way, but her eyes belong to him.
Her father. The man I love.
Nick.
She smiles down at me. “You made the right choice, Mommy.”