Page 46

If it weren’t for Delilah’s cloak, the cold would have overtaken me. But thanks to the thick wool cloak the Stone God gave me, I could withstand the biting wind and freezing temperatures. It was almost enough to make me forget that she’d watched as Thief took my necklace.

Such a nice thing though—a deep, earthy green, its fabric thick and slightly coarse, stitched to endure the harshest winters. A silver clasp shaped like a crescent moon fastened it at my throat. It smelled of pines, and of summers gone by.

It made clipping my axe to my back impossible, which meant I had to carry the heavy weapon around. At least I’d be ready when someone attacked. Or perhaps they’d see me stalking through the night with my axe in my grip and think better of it.

Even with the cloak, the cold had teeth. It bit through the wool, gnawed at my fingers, and clung to my breath like a ghost. Every step I took in the labyrinth felt too loud, the crunch of snow beneath my boots echoing against the stone walls.

I tried to move slower, softer, but the silence was merciless—it swallowed every sound I made and spat it back at me, louder, sharper.

My heart thudded in my ears, an insistent drumbeat that drowned out the soft whistle of the wind snaking through the maze. Nothing else moved. Not yet.

Then footsteps came. They were quick, and headed west instead of east. Though I thought them to be from a corridor or two over, I stopped anyway, pressing my back against the rough, frostbitten wall, and held my breath. The shadows shifted as the moonlight pooled in uneven puddles on the snow. The footsteps passed. I let my breath out slowly, the sound escaping in a thin mist that curled and vanished. Keep going. My legs felt heavy, stiff from the cold and the tension that gripped every muscle. My fingers brushed the wall as I crept forward, the icy stone grounding me.

The labyrinth ahead twisted into two passageways, one that spiraled to the south and one that shot north. Both were the wrong way. Both might end up leading east, or they would turn and writhe about—narrowing, widening, looping back on themselves before spilling back to this same point.

I chose the one heading north. I counted my steps in my head to keep the panic at bay. One. Two. Three. Four. If I focused on the rhythm, I wouldn’t think about the wolves or Dimitri or Clark.

But every so often, my steps made Clark’s note crunch in my pocket and it was as if it were mocking me.

A brittle branch snapped somewhere behind me. The sound cracked through the stillness like lightning. I froze, my breath catching in my throat, and strained to listen.

Silence.

The kind that made my skin crawl. The kind that whispered I wasn’t alone.

My fingers trembled as they tightened around my axe. My thumb ran along the familiar grooves of the handle, an anchor in the chaos. I didn’t dare draw my dagger too—not yet. Metal scraped against leather far too loudly, and I couldn’t afford to give myself away.

The moon slipped behind a cloud, plunging the labyrinth into shadow. My breathing hitched as the darkness pressed in, the labyrinth’s walls closing tighter around me. I needed to move. Standing still made me a target, a waiting meal.

The snow muffled my steps as I edged forward, my hood low, my head turned slightly to catch the faintest sound. Every so often, I glanced over my shoulder, sure I’d see a pair of glowing eyes or the pale blur of a figure trailing me. But there was nothing. Only the endless stretch of the labyrinth’s winding paths and the creeping chill that sank into my bones.

My foot caught on something—a root or a jagged stone—and I stumbled, catching myself against the wall with a hiss of pain. Some walls were nothing but vines clustered together, but this was made of rough stone that bit into my palm. I swore under my breath.

Somewhere far off, a faint howl rose into the night air. My heart leapt into my throat, and I gritted my teeth to keep from yelping in fright.

The sound was much closer than I’d like.

I would like one of Thief’s trinkets now. Perhaps he had one that allowed me to fly, or gave me incredible strength.

I debated calling out to Thief to help me get through the night, but I grabbed hold of my mother’s necklace instead.

I will find a way back to you.

The thought of Mama gave me enough strength to carry on. She wouldn’t fall apart in the labyrinth. She’d carry herself gracefully through it no matter what the labyrinth threw at her. I’d always hoped I resembled my father more than anyone, but in this moment, I needed some of Mama’s strength.

It felt as if half the night passed, and I didn’t get as close to the center as I wished to. My arm ached from holding the axe, my feet were tired, and I was already thirsty enough to forget how sweet the water in the cave tasted.

Perhaps I ought to go back and find it. I could stay there for the night, and set out in a new direction in the morning.

I’d just turned around when something caught my eye. I almost didn’t see it at first, hidden in a curve of the labyrinth where the walls dipped and gave way to an open clearing. The sight stopped me mid-step, my breath fogging in the cold air.

A cottage.

It was small, with a crooked roof that sagged under the weight of fresh snow. The stones making up its walls were round and smooth, pressed together with mortar so old it was starting to crumble. Ivy clung stubbornly to one side, its brittle tendrils weaving up toward the chimney, which leaned ever so slightly like it had been caught in the middle of a sigh.

The door hung ajar, its wood once lacquered yellow but now faded and splintered. A pair of frost-dusted shutters framed the front window, one of them dangling by a single rusted hinge.

No smoke in the chimney. No light by the window. No footsteps by the door.

I waited for Delilah to make a sign to advance or retreat, but she left me alone.

The cottage looked as though it had been forgotten here, tucked into this quiet corner of the maze, left behind by whoever had dared to live in this place.

“I’m going to sleep in there if you don’t stop me,”

I whispered.

Delilah didn’t reply.

I took a hesitant step closer, trying to find patches of grass or stones to step upon that weren’t covered in snow. The last thing I needed was a path of footsteps to declare to everyone where I slept. The clearing felt unnaturally still, the kind of quiet that made me glance over my shoulder more than once. The wolves wouldn’t stop for long—not with Dimitri driving them. But the cottage looked… safe. For now, at least.

A faint breeze whispered through the clearing, ruffling my cloak and carrying with it the smell of woodsmoke, though the chimney was dark and empty. It was warmer here, somehow, as though the walls of the labyrinth were shielding the little house from the worst of the winter.

I stepped onto the stone path that led to the door, my eyes catching on something glittering in the snow—a tiny wrought-iron lantern, toppled over and half-buried, its glass cracked but still clinging to fragments of what might have once been light.

The closer I got, the more details emerged. The windows were frosted, but I thought I could see faint streaks where someone had wiped them clean from the inside long ago. A stack of firewood leaned precariously against one wall, but most of the logs were rotted through, the bark peeling away in soft curls.

I hesitated at the threshold, peering into the shadows beyond the open door. The darkness inside felt… expectant, almost. Like the house itself was holding its breath, waiting for something. Or someone.

“Hello?”

I whispered, my voice barely louder than the wind. It felt foolish to say it, but the clearing demanded it—this place demanded it. The silence didn’t answer.

With a final glance behind me, I pushed the door open just enough to slip inside, the wood creaking under my touch. Whatever this place had been, whoever had built it… they were long gone. But for now, it was here. And for now, it was mine.

And it had a feather bed.