Chapter 15 Drayven
Drayven
The Labyrinth reveals what we hide even from ourselves.”
— OBSERVATIONS OF THE LAST QUEEN
The instant the words leave my mouth, I know I’ve made a mistake. Flori looks up at me with horror.
“What do you mean, you can’t be my king?” Her voice is smaller than I’ve ever heard uttered by her lips.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as bone. “Flori, I—”
She shakes her head, blue hair swaying. “Don’t touch me.”
“I can’t rule. I’m not… I’m not fit for it. I’m a huntsman, a killer. Not a leader.”
I reach for her, but she jerks away.
“Flori, please,” I beg, desperation clawing at my chest.
“So, you just fucked me instead?” she spits. “You’d rather a quick tumble than stand by my side and fight for our love?”
“You’ll hate me if I’m the reason you lose sight of your goal. The Laughing God—”
“Fuck the Laughing God!” she snarls.
The life in her eyes fades, and it kills me inside because I’m the reason. But better this small pain now than a greater pain later.
“Trust me,” I say, funneling my energy into dressing. “This is how it needs to be.”
No answer as I slip on my jacket. Frowning, I pick up my baldric and sling the strap over my shoulder.
“I will get you through this Labyrinth, Flori. Unsullied and whole.” I yank on my breeches with short, jerky motions.
“And then what, Dray? What happens if I win this twisted game? Kasaros says the brides will go free, but they’ve probably already been claimed and harmed.
He says no more Bride Hunts, but they could take on a different form, a new name.
I won’t be queen if I win the wager, but I’m still fertile.
What if I’m still expected to warm some brute’s bed? ”
“I’ll fucking kill them.”
“Without the mask?”
My irritation flares. “So now you want me to put it back on? Which is it, Flori? Do you want me to wear it or not?”
Her fingers shake as she grabs my old shirt, the one I used to sleep in on cold nights back home. She shrugs into it, fumbling with the buttons. “I don’t know! I don’t have all the answers.”
I pause, my bow halfway into its sheath at my back. “You’ll be free, Flori. Isn’t that what matters?”
“Free?” A bitter laugh escapes her. She snatches up the length of pink silk, her “bride sash”, and cinches it around her waist more forcefully than necessary. “I want more than that, Dray.” Her words slice the air between us. “I want a real life. With you. Away from their games and schemes.”
I falter, confusion swirling in my head. “I don’t understand. I thought this was what you wanted.”
I heard her make the deal with Kasaros. She bows for no man.
She shakes her head, a mirthless smile twisting her lips. “You still don’t get it, do you? Freedom means nothing if I lose you in the process.”
The words should be a balm. They should crack open something buried in my ribs, spill light into the hollow spaces inside me.
Instead, they gut me.
Because they mean nothing. Not when I know she’ll regret them.
She’s still half-lost in the fevered dream of our reunion, still clinging to the idea of me rather than the man I’ve become. She thinks we can carve a new life out of this ruin, but she doesn’t see the blood on my hands, the ghosts I carry.
She doesn’t see the truth—that I chose to become something unworthy of her.
And I did it with full knowledge of what it would cost.
I run a hand through my hair, searching the lost temple for answers, but Amara’s long since abandoned this place. There is no divine wisdom here, no miracle waiting to absolve me.
Only me.
Only her.
And a chasm between us that no amount of longing can bridge.
I force a slow breath, keeping my voice level. “Right now, let’s focus on getting you through the Labyrinth.”
She opens her mouth to argue, but I’m already turning away. If I stay, I’ll tell her things she’s not ready to hear. Things I’m not ready to admit.
Things that will only hurt us both.
“Where is that damned thorny tiara?” she grumbles to herself.
“In the courtyard,” I reply. “Along with the boots.”
She ignores me.
I snatch up the last of my weapons—the scimitar—and clip it to my belt. I stride toward the hole in the ceiling over the lagoon. It’s let rain and light in for centuries. I’m sure the way out is through there.
She’ll either follow me… or not.
I hear her frustrated huff behind me as I reach the nearby crumbling temple wall.
My fingers find purchase on the weathered stone, and I haul myself up, muscles straining.
I point out the good footings, but she ignores me and finds her own.
I’m reminded she climbed out of a well herself when we were young and want to smile despite myself.
The hole in the ceiling isn’t far, and it’s covered in thick roots and vines. I test them all and find them sturdy. If we fall, we’ll land in the water.
But we don’t fall. We climb out of the lost temple one after the other. The cool night air hits my face as I emerge into the courtyard.
Flori pulls her head through the hole after me, panting, arms trembling.
She briefly accepts my help to lift her clean through, but when her feet land on the ground, she shoves me away.
I catch a whiff of her scent—sweat and sex and something uniquely her.
My body responds savagely. I want to give in to the craving she’s awoken in me.
I want nothing more than to return to that hidden temple and acquaint myself with every inch of her body.
Her response to my kiss, touch, and cock satisfies some kind of disturbed yearning within.
I can’t get enough of seeing her take me, writhe, and beg for more.
Even better when she can’t stop herself from wanting to taste me.
A groan almost slips from my lips. I scrub my face and curse my lack of control.
I’m not even wearing the mask and already all I can think of is fucking her again. Maybe it was never the curse driving my instincts. Maybe this is just me—reprobate and no good for her, because I’m only a distraction who’ll stop her from achieving great things.
I still remember her harsh words to the Huntsman, the day he stole her away.
“He’s nothing. No one. Even his parents left him.”
I’ve replayed that moment in my head so many times. Sometimes, I’m rational and see her protecting me by any means. Other days, I wonder… if force did not separate us, would she still want me? If she didn’t think I was dead, would she have missed me?
“We need to move,” I mutter, scanning the courtyard for entry back into the Labyrinth. The maze of hedges and stone walls seems to shift beneath the blood moon, an ever-changing puzzle designed to confuse and trap.
Flori’s voice is ice. “After you, Huntsman.”
The title stings, but I swallow my hurt and lead the way.
We move silently toward the altar, my senses on high alert. The blood and gore of corpses still glisten in the soft light. Wet. Dread sinks in my gut when I realize we’ve re-emerged from Amara’s temple on the same night. Judging by the moon’s position, perhaps an hour or so after we left.
Flori’s bare feet make no sound on the damp grass behind me. I glance back, worried she’ll cut herself on the debris littering the ground, but her steps are sure. Her eyes meet mine, defiant. I look away first.
“Stay here,” I grumble.
“I can—” Her jaw clicks shut when she smells the cloying, coppery decay.
“I’ll get your boots and tiara.” I creep forward, skirting the edge of the carnage.
Flori’s stolen boots remain untouched beneath the altar where they fell from her feet.
The thorny tiara isn’t far, hidden in long grass to the side.
An image of her lying prone beneath chains on the altar hits me—her helpless eyes locked on me, that scum positioning himself behind her for the claiming. Rage scrapes claws through my mind.
I hurry back to her side. “Here.”
She slips on her boots with practiced ease—with far more sophistication than the first time in the maze, which means she was trying to seduce me back then. Somehow, I’m disappointed she’s not trying now.
When she reaches for the tiara, I catch her wrist.
“Why wear it?” I ask. “It’s a red flag for hunters.”
“My blue hair and markings do that too.”
“So why add more danger?”
She stares at me long and hard before answering. “Because thorns offer me protection.”
My eyebrows draw together. “They’re brittle.”
“I only need a single drop to do harm… or good.”
Air expels from my lungs when I realize her virginal blood had been on my cock. She sees the horror dawning on my face and smirks. “Don’t worry, I’m in full control of my gift.”
“Are you telling me you could have—” I gulp.
“If I wanted.” She shrugs. “If I thought you would hurt me.”
It dawns on me that might be why she walked through the Labyrinth with such confidence, luring hunters and toying with them.
“Flori.” My fingers wrap around her upper arm. “You sacrificed yourself twice for me down there, didn’t you?”
She clears her throat and replies, “My virginal blood was my last line of defense. But it’s not foolproof. As you saw with the Baron’s man, it was useless.”
“It was smart. And you wasted it on me.”
“Nothing is ever wasted on you,” she whispers with such emotion that I have to believe she truly loves me—thorns and all.
The gravity of her sacrifice wraps around my heart. She didn’t even hesitate. In fact, she was the one pushing for our union. And now, without my seed fertilizing her womb, she’s exposed.
I took that choice away from her.
She attempts to wrestle her wrist out of my grip, aiming the tiara for her head.
“Wait,” I murmur. “Let me.”
For a moment, I think she’ll refuse. But then she nods, a flicker of something—vulnerability? duty?—in her eyes.
I gently place it atop her blue hair, luscious and drying in soft waves down her shoulders. She looks a little ridiculous in my oversized shirt and boots. But she holds her head high and meets my eyes like a queen.
A trickle of blood runs down her temple from a thorn digging into her skin.
“Shit,” I mutter. “I pressed too hard.”
Flori didn’t even flinch. How much pain does she hide from me?
I reach out to wipe away the blood. She flinches from my touch and finishes wiping it. Staring at her red-stained finger, she says, “Even thorns can wound the rose they protect.”
She’s talking about me.
I let my hand drop, turmoil burning in my gut. “Flori, I—”
“Save it,” she snaps. “Let’s just get this over with.”
She stalks past me toward the Labyrinth walls, her back rigid. “I assume we climb over them if we can’t find an exit.”
I exhale, long and slow, and then follow. As we approach the towering, hedged walls, I notice something off. The leaves are unnaturally still.
“Wait,” I call out, grabbing Flori’s arm. She tries to jerk away, but I hold firm. “Something’s wrong.”
A mocking laugh echoes through the air as the hedge wall comes alive, leaves and vines lashing out like serpents. They coil around our limbs, yanking us off our feet and dragging us toward the wall.
“Dray!” Flori cries out, terror in her voice as she struggles against the vines.
I thrash and claw at the leaves, but their grip is unyielding. The hedge swallows us whole, thorns tearing at my skin, as we’re pulled into suffocating darkness.
We tumble out the other side, gasping for air. I scramble to my feet, reaching for Flori, but freeze at the sight before us.
The Baron smirks cruelly in the dim light, a knife pressed to Vesper Demaya’s throat.
“Well, well,” the Baron drawls. “Right on time.”
Demaya’s wide eyes glimmer. Blood stains her white robe, but it’s dried. Not hers. My hand twitches toward my scimitar, but he sees my intentions and presses the blade harder. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
“You think I care what happens to her?” I growl, my vision turning red.
Flori’s gasp is audible, but I warned her. I’ve done despicable things. I’m not a good man. I’m the one who put Demaya in the Pen in the first place. She’s but one of many I’ll gladly sacrifice to save Flori’s life.
“I think you care what happens to her.” The Baron nods at Flori.
“Then you’re mistaken.” I slowly reach around my back for my bow, but halt when my gaze drifts to a shadow moving closer down the passage. Movement on the Baron’s left. More figures make themselves known on top of the hedge wall, like soldiers on a castle’s battlement.
“Tell me then,” the Baron laughs. “What should I know, Huntsman?”
My jaw clenches and I count the enemies I have to kill. Too many. No mask.
Fuck.
“They can’t be all on your payroll,” I drawl. “I’m sure a few will switch sides for the right price—for their new queen.”
“A few?” He gives me a scathing look. “You never were that bright, were you, boy?”
Something in his tone makes me pause. Something I’m supposed to read between the lines, and it infuriates me he might be right. I am uneducated. Poor. Nobody.
“She’s not supposed to be here,” Flori accuses. “Kasaros doesn’t like it when someone tampers with his game.”
“Apparently, anything goes this year.” The Baron gives me a pointed look.
Flori steps forward, her voice steady despite the tension crackling in the air. “This is between us, Blackthorn. Leave Demaya out of it.”
“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” He tightens his grip on his hostage, eliciting another whimper. “I rather enjoy having a little leverage.”
My heart pounds in my chest, my mind racing for a way out of this. But every scenario ends with blood and pain.
The Baron’s eyes glitter with malice as he looks from me to Flori. “Now, let’s see how far you’re willing to go to save your little friend here.”