Page 70

She turned from her goal, abandoning the labyrinth’s prize in favor of the man who swore to give her the world. But Dimitri’s gifts came with a cost.

He showered Delilah with riches—golden tiaras, silken gowns, and jeweled necklaces fit for an empress.Yet, he stole from her the one thing he suspected she loved more than these: her sister.

Delva, steadfast and quiet, was no match for the labyrinth’s merciless traps. She perished in its endless corridors, and Delilah, left behind, was doomed to wander her sister’s graveyard each night.Dimitri abandoned her, but he makes sure her halls are filled with treasure as a reminder of what she once craved.

No longer does Delilah yearn for gold, or jewels, or gowns spun from moonlight. Her beauty is as radiant as ever, but her heart is heavy, burdened with loss. She dreams now only of her sister—her fallen star, her silent shadow—forever beyond her reach.

Through endless halls, her footsteps fall. A queen of sorrow, who has it all.

THIRTY-TWO

Dimitri spared no expense when he showered Delilah with riches—each one meant to mock her for her shallow desires as he stole her sister from her. I hoped she looked upon them each day with fury.

I looked upon them with wonder.

Delilah’s temple sat on the cusp of the garden, facing the north. The brilliance of the golden walls shone with a light of their own. I hoped it meant she was home. I heard no cries in the garden as thetale had predicted.

I didn’t bother to call her name. Delilah was a stone god. She’d know I had arrived.

I felt naked without my weapons, but summoned the courage to wander further in. A sandalwood and myrrh incense drifted down the halls like a ghost wandering through the night. Everything inside glowed with a softer, warmer light. Massive columns lined the hall, each wrapped in spiraling bands of silver and etched with ancient runes. On the other side of them, rivers of gold fed into basins where it glittered like an expensive mirror, while the floors beneath my boots were laid with radiant gold and deep obsidian.

“I’m too poor to be in here,” I grumbled. Then lifted my tone, for the stone god was either not at home, or being stubborn. “Delilah, I need to speak with you.”

“Then speak,” a voice answered, making me ready to abandon my own skin. “For I am curious why you’ve come.”

I turned to find her in a majestic domed room completely closed off from the labyrinth as if to pretend she were anywhere but here. Dark hair flowed around a white dress that dripped off her shoulders, with flowers strung in her hair as if—despite being surrounded by riches—she was masquerading as a common girl.

My boots pattered against the smooth stone ground as I approached, stopping well before her dais. She had a throne but she kept away from it, standing several feet to the side while eyeing each step I took

The gamble I took rested on my tongue. Once she knew, word would spread.

But word would spread through Leif anyway. If I were to survive, I’d need allies.

“My name is Serenity Montclair, and I’m the daughter of Allison and Gerald Montclair. Rightful heir to the Silver Wings and holder of the Shallows, granddaughter of Callahan, and descendant of Dawson and Alicent.”

Her shoulders tightened, eyes narrowing, breath loosening. Trying to decide if I had come here to fight or bargain.

“And what does a prodigy like you want with the lowest of the stone gods?”

“I have a tender spot for the lowly of the world. I wish to dethrone Dimitri.”

Her smile twitched.

“As you know, Dimitri wishes my line dead. Guard me during my time in the labyrinth. Deprive him of his revenge. Together, let us deny him the one thing he wants.”

A dainty laugh tumbled from her full lips, one I couldn’t quite label. She took a step off the dais. Her feet were bare beneath her gown, and the white skirts swished around her ankles.

For a terrible moment, I thought I’d misjudged her. The story I’d read might be nothing more than fable, and I’d be at the mercy of what she wished to do with me. She flexed her long fingers, each of her nails like daggers, before pausing a pace before me.

The scent of floral surrounded us, paired with my fright.

Then she grinned. “You were foolish to come here, descendant of Dawson. You’ll be dead in two weeks.” She turned, already bored with me.

“I have a knack for staying alive,” I said to stop her. I pulled out my white stone. “I throw this, and I’m safe. But I don’t want to use it. I want to stay, to win, and for Dimitri to realize too late that I slipped through his fingers.”

Delilah studied me, while I got a better look at the painting on the wall behind her dais. It wasn’t made with the rest of the temple. The colors were too worn, the lines too crude. She’d done it herself, I realized. With pigment from crushed flowers. She’d drawn her sister overtop the jewels on the wall, dancing in a field with her hair let loose and the glow of her skin warm.

This temple wasn’t a temple to Delilah. It was a shrine.