Chapter 1 #2
The fight is winding down. Oberon’s got a split lip and Sylvian’s nose is bleeding, but they seem less angry, probably high on adrenaline and violence. They break apart, and for a second both are naked, glistening, and utterly unashamed.
Oberon spits, wipes the blood from his mouth. “Next time, I finish it,” he says.
Sylvian laughs, wipes his own blood on the back of his hand. “Any time, flame-boy.”
Ashton claps, giving a low whistle. “Well, that was illuminating. Now, can we please get back to not dying?”
Cassius is the first to turn away, already thinking ten moves ahead.
“We need to rest. The wolves are gone, but who knows if they’re going to come back.
We’ll take turns watching. And Alette—” he glances at me, cool as a winter lake— “you should probably decide which one of them you want in your bed tonight, before there’s more fighting”
The words hit like a slap. All three are watching, waiting for me to choose.
I say nothing. I wrap my blanket tighter, and walk to where the ashes of our old fire are scattered, cold and gray. I kneel and start gathering twigs, as if nothing at all has happened, as if I’m not naked and feeling lost and confused.
The blanket slips as I reach for one of the larger pieces of wood. Cool air brushes over my back. There’s a sharp inhale behind me.
I freeze.
When I turn, they’re all closer. All four of them are staring at me like they’ve just seen something they don’t understand. Something wrong.
“What?” I ask, frowning as I glance down at myself. My chest is covered. What are they staring at?
No one answers right away.
Cassius steps forward first, slow and careful, like I might break if he moves too fast. Sylvian follows, then Ashton. Even Oberon comes forward with a kind of restrained, dangerous stillness. Their eyes are fixed on my back.
My back? Oh, right. The wounds from being whipped by my grandfather.
I glance over my shoulder, then back at them. “Is it that bad?”
Because I’ve had worse. Much worse. They’re a bunch of seasoned warriors, surely my back isn’t enough to upset them. Right?
Sylvian’s face is pale, his usual warmth replaced with something tight and horrified. Ashton looks like someone just knocked the breath out of him. Cassius’s expression goes utterly still, all emotion buried so deep it makes him look colder than I’ve ever seen him.
And Oberon… Oberon looks furious. Not at me. At something else. Someone else.
“Show us the rest of it,” Sylvian says softly.
I hesitate, then shift, letting the blanket fall just enough to still cover my chest while exposing my back fully.
All four of them suck in a breath.
“Gods,” Ashton mutters.
“You’ve been walking around like this?” Sylvian asks, his voice breaking a little at the edges.
I blink. “Like what?”
Cassius’s jaw tightens. “Like you weren’t injured.”
I shrug, reaching for another stick. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine,” Oberon snaps.
The force of it makes me flinch slightly before I can stop myself.
His expression shifts instantly. The anger doesn’t disappear, but it redirects. Away from me.
“Who did that?” Ashton asks quietly.
“My grandfather,” I say. Surely they understand a parental figure punishing a child?
There’s silence. Thick, heavy silence.
Sylvian steps even closer, like he can’t help himself. “Why?”
“One of the chickens got out and was killed.” I shrug. “It was my fault.”
Ashton looks at me with an expression of disbelief. “So he, what? Did this to you… over a chicken?”
I nod. “As punishment.”
“That’s not normal,” Cassius says immediately. Flat. Final. “It isn’t.”
I hesitate, then add, “This wasn’t all from one punishment. He did it again later.”
That gets their full attention.
“Why?” Oberon asks, his voice going dangerously quiet.
“Mr. Clay came by, an older neighbor of ours,” I say, trying and failing to hide my disturbance at just his name.
“A young farm hand got mud on his clothes. He was going to hurt the boy.” My fingers tighten slightly around the sticks.
“I stopped him from hitting him.” I pause.
“Mr. Clay didn’t like that. See, he had just worked out a deal with my grandparents to buy me.
To marry me, though I try not to think about it.
After I upset him, he told my grandparents he’d pay less for me.
My grandfather was upset with me for ruining their deal,” I finish simply.
Oberon goes completely still. “That’s not happening.”
I blink at him. “What?”
“You’re not marrying him,” Oberon says, like it’s already decided. Like it’s not even a question.
Ashton lets out a low, humorless laugh. “Gods, I’d like to see him try that kind of shit right now. I’d love to see him try to get through us.” And there’s a challenge in his voice. Almost a threat.
“Can you picture that?” Cassius asks, voice lethal.
“I can definitely imagine that,” Oberon says, cracking his knuckles.
“And I’ve never hit an old man before,” Sylvian adds, “but I think I could beat the shit out of her grandfather, you know, over several days. Make the whole thing as slow and painful as possible. Let him know that I have my own way of ‘punishing’ people for hurting the people I care about.”
“You’d have to share him with us,” Ashton says with a sparkle in his eye, almost like he’s enjoying thinking about hurting my grandfather.
I feel strange. Overwhelmed. “I don’t want to think about any of that.
” The quiet place in my mind tugs at me.
The place I go to when I feel afraid, out of control.
The place I’ve, strangely, rarely thought about since being with the fae kings.
“When I get back– no, I don’t want to think about that because I know that I’ll do whatever my grandparents ask, and I know they’re going to ask me to do things I don’t want to do. ”
If I had clothes on, I’d be tugging at the material, using the sensation to calm myself down. Too many emotions are rising up. Thoughts are battering at the edge of my mind. Thoughts that just might drown me. Images of what my life might be like when I go back.
I can’t handle this. Any of this. Going back is my own path forward. There’s no life for me here. So why does it feel like there’s no life for me there either?
No, I can’t think about that.
Sylvian’s hand hovers near my arm, not quite touching me. “Alette… you think this is all normal? The life you lived back home?”
I frown, heart battering against my ribs. “Isn’t it?”
Cassius studies me, something sharp behind his pale eyes.
“It’s not. But, luckily for you, you have other options than that.
We would give you the world, if you only asked.
But when you had a chance to ask for anything, you wanted to return home.
Why would you go back when that’s what’s waiting for you?
Don’t you think you could have a better life here? ”
The questions catch me off guard. “I…” Nothing else comes out. Because I don’t have an answer. Because it’s just… home. Because it’s the only thing I know.
I look away, suddenly uncomfortable. “Can we just… forget about this? All of this?” I say quietly. “It’s not a big deal.”
The reaction is immediate.
“No,” Oberon says.
“Absolutely not,” Ashton adds.
If anything, they look more upset.
“Please,” I whisper.
There’s a tense moment. I feel my body shaking.
Sylvian kneels down and pulls my blanket back up around me, tucking the blanket gently around me.
His touch is so feather-light and gentle that I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding.
I miss being touched gently. I didn’t even realize how much.
Sylvian sighs, studying me like he just doesn’t know what to do with me. “We can drop it for tonight.”
Cassius’s voice is calm, but there’s no give in it. “But we’re not forgetting.”
I glance between them, something uneasy settling in my chest.
Oberon’s gaze locks on mine. “You can bet that we’re going to talk about this again.”
There’s no anger in it now. Just certainty. And something else. Something protective. Something that makes it very clear… this isn’t over.
“Before I leave?” I offer softly.
Oberon gives a cold laugh. “Yeah, right, leave.”
But I have no idea what he means by that. I’m just glad that we don’t have to keep discussing my uncertain future, my grandparents, or anything else that makes me queasy.
Eventually, the others join me, collecting more fire wood, building a new fire, before settling in a rough circle. No one speaks, not for a long time, and maybe it’s better that way.
When the fire is going strong and the night has fallen into a sullen hush, Cassius is the one to break the silence. “I can stand watch first.”
“Or I can,” Oberon challenges.
Cassius sighs. “I don’t really care.”
“I could just sleep through the night,” Ashton argues.
Sylvian though? He just keeps glancing toward me.
They argue a little more, about who gets which watch, who can be trusted not to sleep, but eventually it’s decided and everyone relaxes. We curl around the warmth of the fire like a pack ourselves, setting up our spots and organizing our things once more.
I close my eyes, blankets clutched tight, and try to remember what it was like before these fae and their quest. The labyrinth breathes, alive and ancient, all around us.
But somehow, my past feels like a distant memory.
It feels as if I’ve lived more life in the last few days than I have my whole life.
Which is weird, isn’t it?