Chapter 7 #3
The conversation drifts after that, lighter on the surface, though the tension never fades.
He speaks of life within the labyrinth, of underground farms carved into the stone, of careful paths and uneasy alliances with creatures that choose not to attack.
His words paint a picture of survival shaped into something almost civilized.
Almost.
I listen, but something about it doesn’t sit right.
Eventually, he claps his hands, the sound sharp in the room. Servants appear instantly. “You must be exhausted,” he says, rising smoothly. “And in need of proper rest. My servants will show you to your rooms.”
Rooms. The word feels strange. Unreal.
“Please,” he adds, his smile returning. “Make yourselves comfortable.”
We stand slowly, none of us quite letting our guard down, even as warmth, food, and exhaustion pull at us. Because no matter how inviting this place feels… we’re on alert. Always on alert.
The servants step forward, guiding us up the stairs in silence. None of us speak as we follow, the tension from the room below still clinging to us, sharp and unshaken.
At the top, the corridor stretches long and dimly lit, doors lining either side. The servants gesture to them with small bows. “We’ve drawn baths for each of you in your rooms.”
They withdraw quickly after that, leaving us alone.
No one moves right away. We linger in the hall, the storm echoing faintly through the walls, the air still tense from our weird dinner with the lord.
“You don’t go anywhere alone,” Oberon says first, his voice low, controlled, but still edged with the anger he hasn’t burned off.
“As in anywhere,” Ashton adds, glancing down the hall like he expects Lord Ferngull to reappear. “If you so much as step out of your room, you call for one of us.”
Oberon shakes his head. “She won’t even need to call for us. The four of us will take turns cleaning up and standing guard outside her door.”
“We’ll be right here,” Sylvian says, softer, stepping closer. “All of us. You won’t be out of reach.”
“Yell loudly if you have to,” Ashton adds.
Cassius steps closer. “And we aren’t going to actually sleep separately?”
Oberon laughs angrily. “Not a chance. We’ll take our baths, then meet in Alette’s room. We’ll all sleep there together tonight.”
Together? What does that mean? I nod, a little overwhelmed by the idea of them sleeping close to me, even though they’ve technically been sleeping close to me since we entered the labyrinth.
Sylvian studies me for a moment longer, his expression gentling. Then he reaches up, brushing a loose strand of hair back from my face before leaning in. His kiss is soft, brief, warm in a way that lingers even after he pulls back.
“Enjoy your bath,” he murmurs.
He turns to go.
Ashton watches him, then huffs a quiet laugh. “That’s all you’ve got?”
Before I can react, he steps in, one hand bracing at my waist as he pulls me toward him.
The kiss is nothing like Sylvian’s. It’s firm, sudden, stealing my breath as he tilts me back just enough to make my head spin.
It’s over almost as quickly as it starts, but it leaves heat behind, sharp and disorienting.
“Don’t get too hot without us in your bath,” he says lightly, like he didn’t just do that, and steps away.
I’m still catching my breath when I meet Oberon’s gaze.
He doesn’t move closer. Doesn’t touch me.
For a second, it looks like he’s going to say something.
His jaw tightens, his brows pulling slightly, like the words won’t come the way he wants them to.
Then he exhales, sharp and frustrated, and just… looks at me.
It says enough. Be careful. Stay in your room. He turns without a word and positions himself outside my door.
Cassius is the last to linger. He steps closer, slower than the others, his gaze locked on mine. His hand lifts, hesitates for half a second, then cups my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly along my skin.
“If anything feels wrong,” he says quietly, “you come to me. Not later. Not after you try to handle it yourself.”
There’s no room for argument in his tone.
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” I whisper.
He studies me for another moment, like he’s deciding whether that’s enough. Then he nods once and lets his hand fall. “Good.”
He steps back, but his eyes linger just a second longer before he turns and disappears into his room. The hall falls quiet as Oberon stands in sentry mode. Not looking at me, but looking all around me for any danger. I almost want to touch him just to see what he’d do.
But I don’t.
Stepping into the room, warmth greets me immediately, wrapping around me in a way that feels almost unreal after everything we’ve been through.
The fire in the hearth crackles softly, casting golden light across the space.
The room is large, far larger than anything I’ve ever had to myself, with rich fabrics draped over the bed and heavy curtains framing tall windows where rain streaks endlessly down the glass.
Everything is… beautiful.
My gaze drifts slowly over it all, taking in the carved wood, the soft rugs beneath my feet, the careful way everything has been arranged. It feels like a place meant for comfort. Like a place meant to make you forget where you are.
Then I see the bath.
Steam curls gently into the air, the water already drawn, already waiting. The sight of it makes something in me ache, a deep, bone-weary exhaustion that I’ve been holding back finally catching up to me.
I move toward it slowly, almost cautiously, as if it might disappear if I get too close. It doesn’t. The heat rolls off the surface, inviting, and I just stand there, staring at it, before I reach for the ties of my dress.
The fabric slips from my shoulders easily, pooling at my feet, and I step out of it, my skin prickling as the warmth of the room replaces the damp chill that had lingered there. I don’t rush, not this time. There’s no immediate danger pressing at my back, no need to move quickly.
Not yet.
I step into the bath carefully, lowering myself into the water.
The heat slides over me instantly. I suck in a quiet breath as it seeps into my muscles, unwinding tension I didn’t even realize I was still holding.
The ache in my limbs dulls, the stiffness easing as I sink deeper, until the water laps just below my shoulders.
The flickering firelight reflects across the surface of the water, dancing in soft, shifting patterns that should feel soothing.
Almost hypnotic. And yet… my mind doesn’t quiet.
It lingers on everything that’s happened.
On Lord Ferngull’s smile. His words. The way he watched us. The way the others reacted to him.
The way they reacted for me.
A slow breath leaves me as I sink deeper into the warmth, my fingers trailing absently through the water. They didn’t hesitate. Not once.
The moment he crossed a line, they were there. Surrounding me. Shielding me. Claiming the space around me like it was instinct, like it wasn’t even a choice. Like I mattered.
Something inside me pulls tight at the thought.
Lady Migina’s words drift back to me, unwelcome and sharp. A reminder that if they ever looked in my direction it was supposed to be something else entirely. That they were supposed to use me. That I was supposed to be… temporary. Convenient.
But that’s not what this is. I know it. I feel it.
The way they treat me doesn’t feel like use. It feels like something else. Something real.
I feel safe with them. Safe.
I can’t remember the last time I felt that way. Not truly. Not without looking over my shoulder, waiting for something to go wrong.
Not since my father died. And maybe even not then. Maybe the last time I saw safety in my world was before my mother died.
Which is so sad it could make me cry.
My throat tightens, and I stare down at the water, watching the ripples distort the firelight. With them… I don’t feel like I’m waiting for the next blow. I feel protected. Valued. Wanted. Even though there’s danger all around us, there’s never danger in our relationship. Never fear.
I don’t think they could hurt me even if they tried. Which is saying a lot about the hugely powerful fae kings. It has to be a conscious decision for them to be gentle around me at all times. Yet, it never seems hard for them. Just natural.
And somewhere along the way… I started caring about them just as much.
The thought of leaving them behind after all of this feels wrong in a way I can’t explain.
I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose this.
To lose them. But I don’t know what this means.
I’m human. They’re fae kings. Even if we survive this, even if we reach the end…
what then? I think they said fae kings had shared a woman before, but that hadn’t gone well, right?
The questions don’t have answers. So I let them go, focusing on cleaning myself with the sweet scented soaps.
Because right now… the future doesn’t matter.
What matters is this. This strange, dangerous, impossible bond that’s formed between us.
Even if it ends… I know I’ll carry it with me. I’ll carry them. Always.
The thought brings a quiet warmth that has nothing to do with the bath.
I close my eyes, letting it settle. Letting myself accept it. I think I love them. I think I want to be with them, all of them, even if it’s only for a little while.
When I finally step out of the bath and slip into the clothes laid out for me, I feel a strange mix of comfort and unease. The fabric is soft, warm, far too luxurious for the labyrinth. It clings in a way that makes me feel… different. Almost delicate.
I glance toward the door, my pulse picking up slightly. They’ll be here soon. All of them.
The memory of the hallway flashes through my mind. Of Sylvian’s gentle kiss, Ashton’s reckless one, the way Oberon couldn’t quite find the words, the way Cassius touched my face like I mattered.
A nervous heat spreads through me, strange and new, unexpected and unfamiliar. I’m nervous. But not afraid. Not really. If anything… there’s something else there too. Something softer. Something curious.
What would it be like to be with them when their kisses and touches light me on fire? Would it be too much for me? I heard it hurts, but I can’t imagine them hurting me.
I sit on the edge of the bed, fingers twisting lightly in the fabric at my knees, my thoughts drifting despite myself. If something happens. If things change between us.
My heart stutters at the thought. I don’t know what it would mean. I don’t know what comes after. But I do know this… there isn’t a version of that where I regret it.
Not with them.
Not like this.
A slow breath leaves me as I glance toward the door again, waiting. Whatever tonight becomes… I have a feeling I’ll never forget it.