Chapter 8 #2
Stones groan, an entire section of the wall peeling open. Behind it, darkness stretches. A tunnel.
“Maybe we could—”
A hand slaps over my mouth, strong arms hauling me back into the shadows of the alcove.
The thick curtain of brambles falls back over us, plunging us into darkness.
I twist and kick, but surprisingly soft lips brush against my ear.
“Don’t make a sound,” Bael breathes, sliding his hand over mine, and encouraging me to sheathe the glowing knife.
It plunges us into darkness.
Eight shadows slip out of the Labyrinth’s depths, moving silently. All of them tower over us, including Bael. I didn’t think it was possible.
“They came this way,” grunts one of them. “They’re caught in the loop.”
Loop?
“Spread out,” says the apparent leader, gesturing two fingers to the exits leading out of the courtyard. “Two along each path. The remaining two can stay here and wait for them. We’ll flush them out.”
“Remember,” says another, “he’s worth more dead than alive. And he’s weak now. We finally have a chance at him.”
“And the woman?”
“Whoever gets their hands on her first gets first rights,” says the leader coldly.
I’m growing so tired of hearing that.
The strangers vanish into the three openings of the maze.
“A lot of people seem to want you dead,” I breathe into Bael’s ear.
His breath skates across my cheek. “I’m popular.”
“What do we do?”
Bael glances through the veil of roses. “We have only one option.”
Enter the unknown darkness.
“Gentlemen first,” I whisper.
He blinks at me. “I was going with ‘kill them all.’”
Something whips around my ankle, tightening.
A sudden force jerks my foot from beneath me and I slam into the ground, before I’m hauled into the open with a scream.
“Got her!” bellows one of the newcomers.
“Huntress!” Bael roars, launching after me.
He’s met by another of the men, but I don’t have time to watch. Instead, an enormous hand closes over my throat and hauls me, kicking and screaming, into the air.
These aren’t Rhykus’s men.
They wear matching red cloaks with the hoods drawn, and kohl darkening their eyes in a band two inches wide that runs across their entire faces.
I draw my knife, light suddenly obliterating the darkness as the rose begins to glow.
Stabbing his wrist, I kick him in the thigh, missing my initial target, but it’s enough to earn my freedom.
I hit the ground hard, rolling away from him and finding my feet as he cradles his bloodied wrist and hisses at me.
“Bitch.” There’s an enormous hammer strapped to his back and he draws it, revealing a bare chest and thickly muscled abdominals beneath his cloak.
“Didn’t you have enough material for a shirt?” It’s a strange combination. Leather trousers, red cloak, bare chest.
The hammer sweeps through the air, and I throw myself under it, rolling and slashing back. He yelps as my blade bisects his calf, but the hammer whirls dangerously fast in his hands and I’m not quick enough to avoid it.
The blunt head of it drives into my shoulder, sweeping me off my feet. Pain slams down upon me as I hit the ground. I scream, twisting away from the blow, but it’s too late. My vision’s obliterated in white-hot flames, my teeth grinding.
“Huntress!” Bale roars, and the sound is loud enough to send birds shrieking into the night.
Fuck. Fuck. I curl into a ball, clutching at my shoulder. Something doesn’t feel right. My arm’s hanging and I want to vomit.
I cannot move.
The hammer lifts high, and a blur of red streams past me as Bael slams into my attacker. He stabs his hand into my attacker’s chest—I swear I see dark claws elongating his fingers—and then it’s my attacker’s turn to scream.
Bael jerks his hand free. A bloodied heart lands at the base of the fountain and my attacker slowly slumps to his knees, then slams into the stones beside me.
“Huntress.” Bale kneels beside me, reaching for my arm.
“Don’t touch it,” I yelp, knowing the joint is dislocated at best. Hoping it’s merely dislocated.
A horn rings out through the still night.
Far to our right, another answers it.
“We need to move,” Bael says, slipping his arm around me.
“No, no, no.” If he bumps my arm, I swear I’ll pass out.
“No time,” Bael snarls at me, swinging me up into his arms with a gentleness that surprises me. “Where’s my fire-spitting huntress now? Hold your arm. We need to get out of here.”
He plunges us into the alcove and the tunnel beyond. The world blurs as I feel him shove his back against the door and push it shut with a low groan.
My fingers are locked so tightly around his knife nothing is going to pry it from them. The blade’s light catches on a set of stairs, leading us into darkness—the darkness reminds me of the Knights of Malus when they preach that women will lead men into sin.
Then let us step into sin.
“Guess we’re going down.” Bael growls. “Hold on, lioness. I’ve got you.”
The world keeps spinning as I fade in and out of consciousness.
I don’t know how far we go, but finally the stairs spit us into a cavernous chamber. Somewhere far above us, the roof must have caved in, for soft silvery-red light spills through.
Bael lights one of the torches in his pack, setting it into what seems to be an iron ring on the wall.
The floor is covered in mosaic tiles, revealing a stylized rose surrounded by grey tiles that seem to mirror the Labyrinth above.
Little gold tiles at the edge of the circular mosaic add a hint of decadence.
To our far right, water splashes through a gaping chasm in the roof, splashing into a pool below it. Steam curls off the water and a faint blue light glows at the bottom of the pool.
“Where are we?” I groan.
“I don’t know,” Bael replies, setting me down. “Stay here whilst I ensure we’re alone.”
I sink onto a rock, clutching at my arm as I shiver and shake. Any remaining fight has long since left my body.
It hurts so badly.
Bael returns like a wraith in the dark, his cloak swirling around him.
“Cavern’s clear. Here. Give me a look at it,” he says, the fine spray of mist from the waterfall dampening the hair around his face.
“I’m fine.” Far from it, to be honest. Pain radiates through me like an old friend, the twisting nausea in my stomach making me want to heave as I clutch my arm close.
Dislocated. The shoulder has to be dislocated, but my head is spinning so badly I don’t know if I can do what needs to be done. I just want to be sick…
“Here.” Bael reaches for my shoulder.
I wrench back instinctively and cry out.
He squats, waiting for me to catch my panting breath. “I just want to look at it. I’m fairly certain you’ve dislocated the shoulder.”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Lioness,” he growls under his breath, as if even his patience is wearing thin. “You’ve pissed off Rhykus’ entire crew as well as the Red Guard. You’re either going to have to trust me or you’re going to die. So, what’s it going to be? Me? Or them?”
He’s right, curse it. I’m being stupid. But it’s one thing to say, “I trust you.” Quite another to reluctantly tilt my face out of the way, allowing him access.
He hasn’t hurt me.
Yet.
It’s that yet that makes my inner self wary. Because there’s always a lie in the words, always a knife in the back, always a twist to the contract.
“We can’t trust anyone,” Aylin whispered, the day she led me from the ashen remains of our plague-ridden village.
I force myself to still, voice hoarse. “Do it.”
His fingers gently probe my shoulder before he withdraws. “Here. Bite down on my belt and I’ll set it for you.”
“Any excuse to take your clothes off,” I manage to growl.
It wins me a faint smile from him as he whips his belt through its loops, curling it over and offering it for me. I take it, but glare at him determined to show no further weakness.
He holds a small vial up. Inside, glows several pale, almost translucent blue flower petals. They drift through the viscous liquid inside the vial like dancing snowflakes. “If you put one of these petals on your tongue, it will enhance your healing. The shoulder will be fine by tomorrow morning.”
I arch a brow.
“So distrustful,” he admonishes, popping the cork and capturing one of the petals on his finger. Reaching up, he opens his mouth and lets the petal dissolve on his tongue. It’s gone in an instant. “Since I know you’re not going to put anything in your mouth that I haven’t first tasted.”
It’s a little disconcerting to realize how easily he reads me. I eye the bottle. The pain is nearly intolerable, and even if he sets the shoulder, I’ll be bruised and tender for days, possibly weeks. I can’t fight. Not like this. “Do it.”
Capturing another petal, he holds it out to me. I lick the petal from his finger, tongue rasping over his callused finger.
It’s honey sweet, but the second it bursts on my tongue, a current of power runs through me.
Bael stares at me for a long, slow, heated second. And then his face hardens. He reaches for the belt, holding it to my lips. “Bite down on this.”
“All these dirty promises,” I manage to grind out, then I sink my teeth into the leather glaring at him through eyes glassy with tears.
“I know.” The corners of his mouth kick up. “You can murder me after all is said and done. Ready? On the count of three… One. Two—”
I bite down on a scream as he wrenches my shoulder back into its socket, the world narrowing in around me as pain obliterates my vision.
“Easy, now,” Bael whispers, and I start to come back to myself, curled in his arms and panting for breath.
My fingers are locked in his tunic so tightly, I’m surprised I haven’t managed to rip it off him. The pain is gone, leaving me lightheaded and trembling like a newborn deer.
Gods.
Bael’s hand slides through my hair, curling around the base of my skull. His forehead presses against mine, and a strange warmth spreads throughout me. My shoulder tingles. “Can you feel the flower working?”
I nod.
“Good.”
We sit like that for long minutes, until pain is a distant memory. Whatever that flower is, I want more of it. It’s amazing.
Rough fingers stroke my hair, bringing my attention back to the situation. Our breaths mingle, our foreheads still touching. I draw back slightly, confused by the sudden gentleness he exhibits.
His palm cups my cheek, thumb skating over my cheekbone. Staring into his eyes, I can barely breathe. This attraction is dangerous enough, but I want to lean into his palm like a touch-starved kitten.
He makes me feel safe.
He makes me yearn to stay in his arms, curl up there and simply collapse.
I don’t know what to make of any of it, so I move, crawling off his lap to take a seat beside him. Even that small effort exhausts me. I’m so fucking tired.
“We’ll camp here tonight,” Bael murmurs. He fetches me a piece of cured meat from his bag, and then offers me his waterskin. “We both need rest.”
I nibble on the salty meat.
“Here.” Sweeping his cloak off his broad shoulders, he moves to place it around me.
“I’m fine.” I wave him away.
“Huntress.” His tone grows impatient. “You’re ten seconds away from collapse. Let me put my cloak around you.”
I can do nothing more than submit. The thick cloak drapes over my shoulders, the remnants of his body heat lingering in the wool. There’s a word on the tip of my tongue, but do I dare give it breath?
“Zyla,” I blurt.
Bael kneels in front of me as I gulp at his waterskin. “Zyla?”
“It’s my name.” I don’t dare look at him as I drink deeply.
“Zyla,” he repeats, and the way his tongue caresses my name sounds horrifically intimate. “What made you so hard?”
I lift my gaze, staring at him from beneath my lashes. I don’t have the strength left to fight him right now. “What do you mean?”
“You hate being helped, don’t you?”
The words are an arrow, straight to the heart.
No, I don’t. I don’t… But…
In my mind’s eye, I see Aylin screaming as she’s plucked from the Labyrinth by a vicious black dragon.
I take a slow swallow from the waterskin.
“I lost the one person in the world who loved me. The only thing I had left was the burning coal of fury in my heart. I stoked that coal, I breathed life into it, and I used the rage to get me through the next nine years of my life.” An image of a pair of knights sears my memories, their hands rough as they shove me toward their precious birdcage, their cloaks stinking of the smoke from the witch pyres.
I shudder. “You have no idea what I’ve been through in order to survive. You have no idea what lengths I’ll go to in order to gain my revenge. Rage is my shield, hatred my sword. When I find my target, maybe I’ll finally be able to lower that shield.”
I don’t even know what that would feel like. Peace? Would I even recognize it? “But I have to find him first.”
“Who’s your target?” Bael murmurs.
“The Beast,” I whisper, meeting his gaze once more, before I lift the waterskin to my parched lips.
“I won’t rest until I kill the Beast of Kerawan.
He comes every year to claim a new bride.
That’s why I’m here in the Labyrinth. I volunteered.
And once I find Kari, I’m going to track him down and finally end his merciless existence. ”
His amber eyes flare wide in shock, and I laugh.
“Yeah.” I take another drink. “It seems you’ve chosen the wrong bride to tether yourself to. I did warn you that I would bring about your ruin. You should have listened.”