Chapter 12
The elevator hates me.
After I’m behind its closed doors, I look for buttons. A way to tell it what floor I want to go to. Not that I know. But this is the first chance I’ve had to explore Aides alone. To search for London.
I have to try something.
Except, the elevator is moving on its own. Without me doing anything.
“Please.” I stare up at the domed ceiling. As if someone is listening. As if someone is sitting in an office somewhere, controlling the elevator’s every action. Or maybe the elevator itself is alive with magic. “Please take me where I want to go.”
I’m met with silence.
Leaning against one of the brass walls, I tug on my bracelet. My lightheadedness has faded. I still feel off. Out of place. I force myself to concentrate on why I’m really here.
London, London, London, I think until the elevator dings.
My heart is knocking against my throat when the doors slide open. I let out a hopeful breath and step off.
Into the long room of statues and flowers.
“Seriously?”
I spin to face the elevator, scowling. The doors immediately close, caring very little for my frustration.
As I walk, blooms in rich colors open. Coral roses and orchids as blue as sapphires. I trail my fingers along their petals. Nectar fills my lungs. A calmness falls over me.
The marble statues are aged. Limbs broken off, faces weathered. Still, it’s as if they’re watching me. They don’t resemble anyone Henri pointed out in the ballroom. In the room’s center, two women stand—one in carved robes with a crown of asphodels, the other holding a bouquet of daffodils.
I wonder who they are. Other Deathless? Souls Milos has trapped here?
A shudder vibrates between my shoulder blades.
What he said turns in my head. He can never leave Aides. Why would he want to? This place is dripping in power, in certainty. He never has to worry about someone he loves dying.
Stepping into the gardens, I tug off my mask and leave it behind. I hear soft whispering water from the nearby lake. Cypress leaves ruffled by the breeze.
In my periphery, something moves. First from my left. Then my right, behind me. My breaths falter as heavy footfalls come from all around. I twist and turn before I see who’s followed me.
“It’s only you.”
Cerby scampers over. The Danes yip as I crouch down. I scratch behind their ears, laughing as their rough tongues lick my cheeks.
“Are you supposed to be here?” I ask.
Three pairs of frost blue eyes ask me the same thing.
I grin. “Let’s keep that secret between us.”
Cold wet noses bump my chin, heavy breaths dampening my neck. I take it as a sign of approval. A moment later, Cerby darts away. My eyes snag on the structure beyond the hedges. I wander for a closer look.
It’s some sort of maze. Stone hidden beneath a tangle of vines and wild purple flowers with red threads—saffron crocus. My mom grows them occasionally.
At the mouth of the maze is an engraved plaque. My thumb rubs over the unfamiliar language. Heat hums against my skin as I touch every letter.
I walk inside.
Lush flowers are scattered along the tall walls. Above, the vines arc to form a canopy. Light bursts through the gaps in glossy green leaves. Heady spices hang in the air. Shrubs shaped like mythical animals and beasts line the long corridor.
Every turn and narrow passageway look the same. Green, lavish. Endless.
Around a corner, I find a mirror against one of the walls. Gilded thorns form the frame. From a distance, the glass is fogged like ice on a window. But up close, the reflection slowly ripples into focus.
It’s…me. But not as I looked at the ball.
I’m paler, washed out. A sling holds my left arm in place. My suit is replaced by joggers and a white T-shirt spattered in crimson dots. Tiny red jewels of blood shine from cuts on my face.
I know this version of me. From the accident.
My breath hitches, harsh and echoing. Underneath that, the crunch of gravel in the distance. My head snaps in the direction I came. Did Cerby come after me? The wind exhales a long groan.
No, not the wind. Voices.
The maze seems closer, darker. The buzz in my ears builds like a swarm of bees.
“What are you doing in here?”
Heart thudding, I spin around. Propped against one of the walls, Cary stares at me.
“Fuck,” I hiss, hand to my chest. “Don’t scare me like that.”
His eyes narrow. “You cannot just stroll around Aides.”
I sniff. “Yeah, so you’ve told me.”
“Yet you did so anyway.”
“I needed to get away from”—I flap my hand in the direction I think the ballroom is—“there.”
“Did something happen?”
There’s a quiet flash of concern in his eyes. I’m not sure if it’s real. Like the reflection I saw of myself a minute ago. When I look at the mirror now, the glass has smoked over again.
“What is this place?” I ask.
Cary pushes smoothly off the wall. “Milos’s labyrinth. Somewhere you do not belong.”
I wrap my arms around myself, forcing the image of bloodied August from my head.
“Tell me what happened inside,” he requests.
My throat burns with frustration and anxiety. I glare at him. “Why do you care, Cary? You left me alone at the ball—”
“Henri was with you.”
“—and you didn’t invite me here in the first place,” I continue. “Nothing I do matters to you.” I hate the disappointed noise my voice makes on that last word. Middle C struck on an out-of-tune piano.
He scans my face. “Did you drink something?”
I roll my eyes. “It was just pomegranate juice.”
Cary lets out a breath. “Nothing is just here, August. Not for mortals.”
His words settle like bricks in my stomach. Is that why I’m sweaty, fighting every second for focus? Is that why I couldn’t shut my mouth anytime Milos asked me a question? I did it to get more information out of him. But also, I felt…compelled to answer him.
“Shit,” I whisper.
Cary frowns back at me and I finally take him in.
He’s not wearing the same coat and boots from earlier. Light twinkles over the silvery details around the shoulders and chest of his onyx suit jacket. Constellations, like Poppy’s dress. The shirt underneath is only halfway buttoned. I glimpse the definition in his pale gold chest.
Is that where he disappeared to? To change his outfit? Why and for who?
“We should go.” He grabs my wrist.
I let him pull me.
Backtracking through the maze takes us longer than it should. Every few feet, Cary stops, then starts again. As if he’s lost. I stumble behind like a dazed child.
Once we reach the entrance, I feel the full heat of his fingers on my skin. I need him off. Before it’s the only thing I can think about.
“You can stop touching me now,” I growl out.
He whirls around, glowering. His grip loosens. I snatch my arm away.
“Why did you come here?” he asks. “What are you looking for?”
Panic flares in my chest. Does he know about London?
Cary’s expression hardens even more. He nearly spits, “Do you want my brother? Do you prefer him?”
“Prefer him to what?” The surprise in my voice is undisguisable.
He steps closer. I back into the labyrinth’s wall. Gold blisters in his eyes as he snarls, “Be honest with me, August. You want a prince, is that it? Someone with a crown? A throne? A permanent place? Is he enough for you?” His questions come so fast, so sharp. “Do you want him?”
“No!”
“Then what?” He pins me with his stare. “What do you want, August?”
This time, my name on his tongue is like thunder in a storm. The cry of an ocean. His breath is hot against my face. I smell him—sugar and salt and rich earth. His expression is twisted, half angry, half something else.
I want to run away from him. I want to punch him.
I hate him. Who he is—Death’s obedient scowling minion.
I hate how…
How my body reacts to his nearness. Ache and need coiled around my muscles. I hate that my eyes can’t look away from him. The hard lines of his jaw, defined cheeks. The wrinkles in his forehead that match the ripples of a sea.
I hate that his stiffness comes with gentleness too. While teaching me to dance. When he caught me before I fell. Stood between me and Cerby or anyone else who might be a threat. The second he found me inside that maze.
Most of all, I hate the knot in my belly when he doesn’t back down. When he lets me push in. His pink, plush mouth curved downward in annoyance.
And in this moment, I hate how much I want to kiss him.
So I do.
I half expect Cary to yank away, disgusted. But he doesn’t. He presses his mouth to mine, clumsy and awkward. There’s a tentativeness in his kiss. Uncertainty I’m familiar with.
My lips draw away. Only a small distance. Breathless, I whisper, “Is this your first kiss?”
His body tenses against mine. “Yes.”
“Oh. Okay.”
I try to think of a better response. Words collect in my head, going nowhere.
Cary surges forward again. His fingers grip my waist. I angle my head. Open his mouth with my tongue. He tastes honeyed and tart, like a fruit.
Pomegranate, but not the drink Henri gave me. Raw, unaltered.
And I want more.
My excited fingers drag through his hair. Freeing his soft curls. My other hand flattens against the small of his back, like he did to me as we danced, until we’re pressed together. I can feel him against the inside of my thigh.
Moremoremore.
I direct the rhythm of our kiss. He’s like a blank page. My lips are the ink, shifting and shaping lyrics to his mouth. His breaths sing. I can’t stop chasing that noise.
But I’m forced to.
“Well, well.”
Mortification seizes me and I flinch backward. My head knocks against stone. The throb reverberates until I almost don’t see where the voice originates from.
Eventually, she comes into focus.
Poppy stands a few feet away. And she’s not alone. Thankfully, it’s not guards or another Deathless or Milos by her side. Only the Danes, tongues lolling. I’m really starting to question who exactly Cerby is guarding.
Dangling from Poppy’s fingers is a rose gold mask. “You dropped this.”
A flush springs into my cheeks.
My gaze flicks to Cary. He’s wide-eyed, quiet. Yet there’s a subtle twitch to the corners of his swollen mouth that tells me he’s not angry. Embarrassed, yes. Not disappointed, though.
Poppy saunters to his side. “I have to say, I’m quite surprised by this.”
“You are?” I say around a swallow.
“No,” she deadpans. Her fingers comb through Cary’s hair. “This is a new look.”
“Stop it,” he mumbles, cheeks bright.
I hold in a laugh.
The ferrier of souls, a heartless Deathless, blushing. Because of what my hands did to his hair. Because he clearly enjoyed kissing me.
My chest puffs out.
“We’ll be having a talk about this later,” she says to Cary. “But not now. The prince sent me to check on his honored guest.”
Fear snaps my spine straight.
“Don’t worry. I won’t say a word,” Poppy says with a sly smile, and my posture slowly loosens.
Cary chews on his lip. I read the swirl of mild nervousness and a hint of shyness and soft relief in his eyes. He looks almost…human.
“Maybe it’s time you return August to the mortal realm?” Poppy suggests. “He’s been here longer than he should.”
Worry streams through my blood. I don’t have my phone. No way of contacting Max or my parents. Have they noticed? Panicked?
I pull at my curls. “How long? Will anyone back home know?”
“I told you,” Cary says gently, “time works differently here. A lot slower. You have nothing to fear. No one will know.”
“Go,” Poppy says. “I’ll make up a story for Milos.”
Cary nods. “Thanks, Poppy.”
She flicks his nose. “I want details, sweet ferrier.” Her stare trails over me one more time. “All of them.”
Over her shoulder, she blows me a kiss, gold glitter from her lipstick floating on the wind. “Goodbye, August!”
We walk toward the lake in silence, but the aftermath of our kiss flickers like a flame catching sparks anytime our hands brush. It’s weirdly confusing how light my body feels. The waves inside me quieted.
Cary’s mouth is pursed as if a thousand words are trying to push their way out. I want to hear every single one.
On the lake’s shore, I stop him. “When will I see you again?”
His eyebrows lower. “Again?”
I nod, hopeful in ways I shouldn’t be.
A long beat passes between us. I recognize the pinched corners of his eyes. The hesitation pulling at his jaw.
“You can’t,” I whisper, sour disappointment gathering in my throat like bile.
“I only have moments, August,” he replies. “I cannot—” He looks away.
“Then give me that,” I say, too wired and overwhelmed by today to be ashamed. To give up this fight.
The lake sings softly. Light dances off its gentle waves and reflects onto Cary’s face. His mouth slips into a smile, gorgeous as sunrise.
“Has anyone ever said how stubborn you are?”
“Many,” I grin out. “Give me a moment, Lord Cary.”
He laughs. It’s the noise of morning birds. The music of fairy tales.
“Fine, fine. I will try. For you, August.”
I wake up in a haze. Sheets tangled around my legs. Moonlight dusts the room a pale ivory.
My bedroom. I’m back home.
When I blink, there’s fuzziness behind my eyes. A thin fog I can’t quite see through. I stretch lazily, not sure where my phone is. What time it is. A draft teases along my belly from where my T-shirt has ridden up.
Shocked, my eyes look down.
I’m not wearing a suit anymore. Only a ramen-stained T-shirt and boxers. On my next inhale, I smell them:
Flower petals.
I was in Aides. I was with Milos at the ball. I was with Cary, before and after.
My lips tingle. We kissed.
A smile spreads across my face before I can stop it. Something else shifts in me too. It’s a wildfire under my skin. Carelessly, it spreads. I’m not sure how to put it out.
Well, I am.
My bedroom door is shut. I can’t hear any noises on the other side. Maybe Max hasn’t come home yet. Still, I move quietly. I let my hand slide down my stomach.
My fingers skid over my hip bone, into my waistband. Then lower.
Flames rise swift and hot in my cheeks. It’s been so long since I did this. Since I wanted to. So long since I thought about another boy in this way. But the images come without any effort.
The light across his smooth face. Pale gold skin against a black suit. His hair caught between my fingers. The muscles in his back arching under my palm. Our bodies crushed together, mouths dancing.
His sugary taste on my tongue. Nervous urgency in his kiss.
It plays over and over behind my eyelids. My heart races against my throat. The tide rises faster than I expected, filling and taking me.
I go, willingly.
It’s a different kind of drowning.