Chapter 17
Alette
The cold is awful. How had I forgotten how miserable it could be?
It amazes me how it can worm through clothes, two blankets, and a fire, and still find the hollow at the base of my spine, or the cracks between my knuckles, or the place behind my ears where the wind always seems to aim.
My teeth haven’t stopped chattering for hours.
The sky above is an obsidian dome, and the wind is a living thing, slithering in from the lake to punish anyone dumb enough to sleep in the open.
I’m not sleeping. I doubt anyone is.
Oberon’s body is still tense. Sylvian hums to himself for a few seconds every so often, like he’s forgotten he isn’t alone, then lapses into dead silence for whole minutes, then hums again.
Ashton is curled on his side, using his arm as a pillow, but I can see him staring at the fire.
Cassius sits nearest the fire, cross-legged, the only one who should be awake, since he’s first to keep watch.
He pokes the wood every so often with a stick, but there's no fight in it.
I’m freezing. I’m not going to die from it, but I wish I could be warm, just for an hour or two.
Even with the fire, the world above and below me are locked in a conspiracy to chill every inch of exposed skin.
I pull my blanket tighter and try to remember the tricks to staying warm.
I ball myself up, hands between the thighs, and breathe slowly.
But it doesn’t matter. I’m shivering so hard my joints rattle.
Cassius must hear it, because he says, soft enough that only I can hear, “Come here.”
I pretend I’m asleep, eyes clamped tight, and try to will my body still. It doesn’t work. He says it again, a little louder, but now Oberon snorts and rolls onto his back.
Cassius stands up, wraps his own blanket around his shoulders, and shuffles over to me. I burrow deeper, stubborn, but he crouches right next to my head.
“Let me help,” he whispers, and there’s no demand in his voice, just a quiet certainty that, if I let him, he’d take every ounce of cold for himself.
I crack an eyelid. He’s so close I can see the strange shimmer to his white-blond hair, and the pure white-blue of his eyes. I want to say something, but my jaw feels frozen.
Ashton mutters, “Let the poor girl sleep, Cassius.”
“She’s not sleeping,” Cassius says. “She’s freezing.”
“I’m fine,” I manage, but it comes out strange with my chattering teeth.
Sylvian pipes up, his head nearly touching my head. “Cassius is right. She’s shaking like a leaf in a gale… which I, of course, would be glad to help with.”
Oberon snorts again, this time with a little laugh at the end. “You volunteering to be the hot water bottle, Cassius?”
Cassius ignores him. He spreads his blanket over me and crawls under the small pile of blankets with me, careful and slow, like he’s taming a wild animal.
His body is shockingly warm. Either water fae run hot, or he’s willing himself to be a furnace for me.
He slides in behind me, one arm over my waist, hand flat on my ribs.
I tense up. He feels it, but just says, “This is for heat. Nothing else.”
I nod, too embarrassed to answer. My face is on fire, but the rest of me is ice.
He’s not lying. He just holds me. After a while, my shivering slows. The heat from his chest soaks through my shirt, his arm keeping the cold from creeping in under the blanket. I hate how good it feels. I hate that I need this. I hate that my body melts against his in less than a minute.
For a while, there’s only the sound of the fire and the wind.
Then Sylvian says, “If we’re taking turns, I'm next.”
Ashton answers, his tone hinting at humor, even though he sounds exhausted, “You’d crush her. She’d never thaw out again.”
Oberon grumbles, “Stop fighting. She’ll pick who she wants, and the rest of us can just make peace with losing.”
“It’s just keeping me warm,” I say softly.
“Is it?” Oberon asks, a strange note to his voice.
I stiffen. Cassius’s hand tightens slightly.
“What are you all talking about?” I say, voice muffled in the blanket.
There’s a pause. I imagine them exchanging looks in the dark.
Sylvian gently tells me, “You, Alette.”
“I don’t think I’d do a great job of keeping you warm back. I’m a piece of ice.”
Oberon’s voice is clear and hard. “That’s not it. Stop pretending you don’t know.”
I don’t turn to look at any of them. “What, then?”
There’s a beat, and Cassius is the one who says it, his voice low and certain, right in my ear. “We all want you. You have to know that by now.”
The fire spits, cracks.
I blink, waiting for the punchline.
Nothing.
I say, “You mean—?”
Sylvian sighs. “All of us want to be with you. It’s not… a joke.”
I squeeze my eyes shut. It has to be a joke.
Ashton says, hesitant but steady, “You’re beautiful. And clever. And brave. And you make all of us want to be better. Even Oberon, and that’s a miracle.”
I stare at the side of the fire pit. “You’re fae kings. You can have anyone you want. You’re just stuck in this labyrinth with me. Why would you…?”
Oberon’s voice drops, and I glance out of my blankets to study him. “We’ve had what we wanted before. It never meant anything.” He pauses a beat. “You do.”
Sylvian continues, more serious than I’ve ever seen him before. “You make things… interesting. Real.”
I try to push myself up, but Cassius’s arm is iron. “Stop it,” I say, hot and embarrassed. “Don’t do this. I’m just a human. I’m not pretty, or anything. I’m here because your goddess made me, not because—”
Cassius interrupts, “We don’t care what the goddess wants. We care what we want.”
There’s a pause, and then, in a rush, Sylvian continues, “You think I’d risk my skin for just anyone? You think Ashton would? Or Oberon? Or Cassius?”
Ashton laughs, but it’s raw. “She thinks we’re lying.” His voice softens, just a little. “I don’t pretend, little human. Not like this.”
I shake my head. “No. I just… I don’t believe you.”
“Why?” Oberon asks.
I open my mouth, but the words catch. I want to say, “Because you’re all beautiful and ancient and I'm nothing. Because you’re fae, and fae don’t care about humans.
Because I’m a human girl with calluses on her hands and scars on her body, who can’t begin to compare to the fancy fae women they’re accustomed to. ”
I settle for, “It doesn’t make sense.”
Cassius shifts behind me, his voice a little softer now. “You’re the only thing in the world that makes sense to me.”
For a second, I almost cry.
Instead, I decide to be honest and say what I’m really thinking.
“Fine. Let’s say you’re all telling the truth.
That I just accept this crazy idea. What then?
You’re going to, what, take turns being with me?
Fight it out? Marry the human girl you’ve known for a short time?
Yeah, because that makes sense in the real world. ”
None of them answer, but the silence is thicker than ever.
Sylvian, almost sheepish, suggests, “We could share.”
Oberon responds without hesitation, “Not a chance. I’d kill the lot of you first.”
“Not if I get to her first.” And there’s an edge of competition in Ashton’s voice.
Cassius, right in my ear, says, “She decides. It’s her choice.”
I can’t stand it. I roll over, face to face with Cassius. “This is insane,” I hiss, so low only he can hear.
He smiles. “Is it?”
“You’re all mad.”
He doesn’t argue.
I release a slow breath, my thoughts racing as I try to make sense of this. “You’ll use me and throw me away.”
Oberon’s gaze locks on mine, fierce and unyielding. “We don’t use what matters.”
The words hit harder than anything else they’ve said.
Cassius’s voice is quieter, but it threads through me just the same. “And we wouldn’t touch you unless we intended to keep you.”
Silence falls again, thick and heavy, but it’s different now, not uncertain. It’s certain in a way that makes my chest feel too tight.
After a while, Oberon says, “Go to sleep. We’ll need sleep to face whatever the labyrinth will bring tomorrow.”
Sylvian hums again, something slow and sad this time.
Cassius’s hand never leaves my ribs, but he doesn’t try anything. He’s just there, holding in the warmth, like he promised.
It feels like it takes hours, but eventually, I stop shivering.
But I don’t sleep. I just lay there, Cassius’s arm a line of fire across my body, and try to figure out why every cell in me is fighting so hard not to be wanted. Is being wanted really such a bad thing? Is enjoying these fae kings just while we’re in the labyrinth really so bad?
When all of this is over, I’ll be back home. Probably being sold off to a horrible man. What’s stopping me? The answer comes easily. If I feel what it is to be wanted, if I can fool myself into thinking I’m loved, even for a little time, how will I ever go back to my cold and lonely life?