Chapter 8
Sylvian
I haven’t seen Alette for an entire day.
If I close my eyes and focus, I can still taste her sweet lips, feel her soft body underneath me.
Her memory is the only thing that feels real any longer.
It’s maybe the only thing keeping me together.
I just wish the other kings were holding up as well.
Both seem on the edge of something bad. Oberon is pacing near where we’ve thrown all our packs, which is his favorite thing to do now.
Cassius is trying to create a possible map to the labyrinth in the dirt.
They’re desperate to get back to her, as am I, but unlike them I think I still have some hope that we’ll actually find her.
They’re arguing again. This time it’s about who’s to blame for losing her.
“You could’ve grabbed her before she fell through the hedge,” Oberon snaps, making no attempt to hide the accusation in his voice.
Cassius doesn’t look up from his stick. “Technically, you could’ve saved her just as easily as I could’ve.” He’s not angry, he doesn’t usually get angry, but the way he says it is like smacking Oberon with the world’s most polite shovel.
Oberon bristles, fists clenched. “How are you so calm? She’s out there! Somewhere! She could be hurt… or worse, and you’re just sitting there playing with your damn stick!”
Cassius glances up, his expression betraying his fear. “She’s okay. She’s got to be okay.”
I try to say something, to defuse it, but the words won’t come out. I just sit down, legs folded, chewing the inside of my cheek and counting the seconds since I last heard Alette’s voice. I’m supposed to be the peacekeeper. But I feel hollowed and raw inside.
Oberon starts pacing in circles now. “This is a waste of time. We should be looking for her, not sitting on our asses waiting for the maze to spit her back out.”
“We already tried that,” I say. We walked for hours. For days. It got us nowhere. Maybe even further from her.
“We should keep trying!” Oberon shouts.
Cassius makes a show of exhaling. “And how do you propose we find her? The corridors have shifted three times since we set up camp. For all we know, she’s not even in this quadrant of the labyrinth anymore.”
Oberon kicks a chunk of rotten wood, sending splinters everywhere. “We’re kings,” he snarls. “Or we’re supposed to be. It’s pathetic, sitting here like lost children. The maze is playing us, and you know it.”
Cassius doesn’t answer. I can see the muscles jumping in his jaw, but he stays quiet, eyes on his stupid lines. Oberon storms off to the edge of the clearing, muttering curses under his breath.
I stand, legs shaky, and follow Oberon. I can’t bear to watch him suffering so visibly the way I’m suffering so silently.
He obviously hears my footsteps behind him but doesn’t turn. Normally, he’d have told me to stay away. Normally, he’d have thrown some cutting remark over his shoulder.
But this time he says nothing. Maybe for once he’s actually taking comfort in my presence, which is a strange idea. We kings never go near each other unless we have to.
He’s got his back to me, fists clenched at his sides, gaze fixed on the hedge like it’s the same one where Alette vanished. I know he’s blaming himself, even though he’ll never admit it. That’s the thing about Oberon… he needs to be angry, because if he ever lets the grief through, it’d kill him.
“Stop blaming yourself,” I say, and the words sound stupid, even to me. “She’s not dead.”
He doesn’t turn. “How would you know?”
I shrug, picking some leaves off the hedge. “She’s got Ashton with her. He’s an idiot, but he’s a gifted warrior, as much as I’d never admit that to his face. He’ll keep her safe.”
That gets a grunt out of him. “You really think so?”
“I know so,” I say, and I do. It’s the only thing I’m sure of anymore.
He turns, finally, and looks at me. His face twisted in agony. “You miss her.”
The words hit me so hard I almost laugh. “Of course I do.”
He squints, then says, “You’re not the only one.”
I look away, embarrassed, but I can feel the truth of it settling between us. All three of us want her. None of us know how to say it without it sounding pathetic.
Oberon lets out a slow breath. “Why does it feel like I’m dying inside when I’m away from her?”
Rubbing my chest, I realize that’s exactly how I feel. “I don’t know.”
He’s quiet for a long minute. “We promised to give her back to the human world when this is all done.”
His words knock the air from my lungs. We did, didn’t we.
“Well that can’t happen.”
“We can’t go back on our word,” I explain softly.
“We can make her want to stay.”
“How?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “I don't know. I just know we need to get her back. I need to ease the agony inside of me.”
Cassius speaks up, sounding thoughtful. “One thing we should keep in mind is that it doesn’t sound like she has a lot to go back to. If we make life with us seem more appealing, it might be easy to get her to want to stay.”
He’s right. “We can probably do that better if we stop fighting each other.”
“Maybe,” Oberon says, but I can tell he’s considering our words.
Which is progress.
We wander back to camp. Cassius has built a tiny fire, coaxing flame out of small sticks by sheer force of will. He gestures for us to sit, and we do.
Cassius slowly adds more fuel to the fire. “I think I've created a basic map of the labyrinth.”
“And?” Oberon asks, lifting a brow.
“And I’ve come to the conclusion that while this might be more or less a map of where we’ve traveled so far, add in the fact that the labyrinth is changing, and that magic is involved and, well, this map isn’t the least bit helpful to us.”
“I could’ve told you that hours ago,” Oberon mutters.
“This whole thing is so… frustrating,” Cassius says, actually glaring at the map on the ground.
“It pisses me off,” Oberon adds, glaring himself.
I watch them, and something in me cracks. “You two are the worst at pretending you’re not scared.”
Oberon glares, but there’s no real heat. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I pick up a stick, poking the fire. “It means you’re both afraid to admit you care about her.”
Neither speaks, but their shoulders slump.
“I think,” I say, “we all care more than we should. More than what’s logical.”
That hangs in the air.
Oberon sighs. “Well. Isn’t that just tragic.”
I close my eyes. “It’s not tragic,” I say. “It’s human.”
No one corrects me. The fire crackles.
I think about Alette, about her hands in my hair, the way she gasped when I pressed my mouth to her throat. The way she looked at me like I was something worth wanting.
I want her back. I want her so badly it hurts.
“Tomorrow,” I say, “we start over. We work together. We don’t let the maze win.”
Cassius pokes the fire, sending up sparks. “Agreed.”
We sit in a rough triangle, backs to the black-green walls, watching the flames slowly growing.
There’s not much to eat. All that I have in my pack is the last pieces of dried venison, a lump of bread, and some dried strips of fruit.
Oberon pulls a piece of meat from his own bag and chews in silence, jaw twitching.
Cassius peels the bark from a twig, fingers moving like he’s winding a clock.
I pick at the bread, moistening the small pieces a little at a time.
Finally, Cassius asks. “Do either of you remember what it was like before the wars?”
Oberon grunts, not bothering to look up. “I wasn’t alive, genius.”
Cassius ignores the sarcasm. “I mean the stories. The old ways, before the houses started fighting.”
I shrug. “My parents didn’t talk about it. They barely talked at all, unless it was to tell me I’d ruined something for them.”
Oberon takes another bite of his meat. “If you want a history lesson, just give it.”
Cassius smiles, thin and sharp. “I just wondered if you knew how different things used to be.”
Oberon looks up, blue eyes narrowed. “Go on, then. Enlighten us.”
Cassius dusts crumbles of bark from his hands, then speaks in the voice he saves for speeches, every word clear and cold.
“It’s not just the magic that’s dying. It’s the fae, and we all know it.
Few children are being born. We’re seeing weakness and signs of old age for the first time.
This curse is killing us slowly. But it’s not just this curse, it’s our way of life.
Once, the four courts worked together on everything.
Festivals, marriages, even raising their children.
If the goddess had a favorite, it was unity. ”
“Sounds miserable,” Oberon mutters.
Cassius shrugs. “But it worked.”
I’m surprised to realize I want to hear more. “How did it all fall apart?”
Cassius’s eyes go distant, like he’s seeing something through the hedge.
“There used to be a tradition, higher than any law. The royal houses would share a bride—one woman, chosen by the goddess, who wed all four kings. She was the bridge, the bloodline. Every century or so, the cycle would repeat. It kept the peace for generations.”
I blink, letting that sink in. I knew fae shared everything, even lovers, but the idea of the courts tying themselves together like that… “But what about children? Who did they belong to?”
Cassius tilts his head. “All of them. None of them. The goddess’s will was above parentage. It was about the bond.”
Oberon snorts. “Bullshit. There’s no way the fire court would ever let a water prince father their heir.”
Cassius’s mouth twitches. “When the child began to show their powers, the child would become the heir of that court, but usually in these matches the mother had enough heirs for all the courts. This worked well… until the last bride was murdered.”
The words fall into the fire and sizzle.
Oberon’s voice drops. “By who?”
Cassius shrugs again. “The records don’t say. Some blame the humans, some blame a jealous lover. But after that, the kings turned on each other. The tradition ended. The wars started.”
I stare at my hands, remembering the feel of Alette’s fingers in my hair. “So what’s your point?”
Cassius doesn’t answer right away. He looks at the ring of embers in the pit, then says, “Maybe we shouldn’t just be talking about how to fix the curse, but how to fix the fae.”
Oberon lifts a brow. “You want us to, what, share a wife? Is that what you’re getting at?”
Cassius doesn’t blink. “Why not? Isn’t that what the goddess wants? Isn’t us spilling blood between the houses the reason we were cursed in the first place?”
I can’t help it. I laugh, but it’s hollow. “Can you picture me marrying one of the river girls? Or the wind fae, who think dirt is an insult?”
Oberon gives me a look. “And you think I want to breed with some tree-hugger? Not likely.”
Cassius shrugs, eyes glinting. “Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe we can’t imagine it, because we’ve never seen it work.”
“Or, maybe, we don’t choose a fae woman.” He looks at me, then Oberon, then back. “You’ve seen how she is. The Chosen One. She draws all of us to her.”
Oberon’s face tightens. “You’re obsessed.”
Cassius doesn’t deny it. “Maybe I am. But tell me I’m wrong.”
I feel the weight of it, the way we orbit her, the way the air changes when she’s near, the way even Oberon gets quiet if she’s hurt.
It’s Oberon who finally says, “It’s just the magic. The goddess is screwing with our heads. Once we finish this, it’ll go away.”
Cassius’s voice goes soft. “I’m not sure it will.”
“I don’t share,” Oberon whispers. “Not with the three of you.”
“Me neither,” I say, but I wonder what I’d be willing to do to touch her again.
Never that… right?
“We’ll find her,” Cassius say. “Tomorrow, or the next day, or however long it takes. And when we do, we won’t let go.”
Oberon grunts, but doesn’t disagree.
“Maybe the next time, we ask her what she wants,” Cassius offers softly. But he means, who she wants.
I nod. “That’s fair.”
We sit there, three kings trying to imagine a world where we’re not alone. Where we get along. Where Alette belongs to all of us. The fire is brighter, and the warmth wraps around us pleasantly.
I think of her, somewhere in the maze. For her, I might tolerate being around the kings. For her, I might just do anything.