Page 7

It’d been cold above water, but it was freezing below. The chill sank like ice beneath my skin, seeking purchase in the cracks of my ribs as it reached thin, icy fingers toward my lungs. I kicked, stretching for the surface.

A glint of gold sank to my right, and suddenly I couldn’t see anything else. Only the shape of my treasured wooden box as it carried Father’s notes to the bottom of the sea. Panic rose within me.

My muscles flexed, ready to dive after it, before a new sight came from the left.

Clark, dazed and disoriented, drifted away in the current. The crack. The skiff must have connected with his body as they both tipped over. He’d never been much of a swimmer, but right now he looked ready to drown. His limbs flailed sluggishly, his eyes half-closed and dazed, like he didn’t know which way was up, while the current pulled him away.

My father’s notes sank further.

Without them, how could I prove who I was? Who would believe that I’m the rightful heir to the Shallows without those notes to say so? It wasn’t much, but without them, I had nothing.

Losing them felt like losing him.

We hadn’t the money for fine things like books growing up. Instead, Mother read me those notes as I fell asleep, filling my mind with tales of the deep and her life on the seas with Father, when they’d sneak her aboard so none could know they were courting and he’d whisk her off from adventure to adventure. Adventures that they promised one day would include me. Those notes had promised too.

Now, those notes were falling further away.

Shoving against the lump in my throat, I rose to gulp in air, then dove back down.

The box glinted once more, almost like saying goodbye.

Then it was gone, and I was swimming after Clark.

His red hair stuck up all around him, his eyes nothing more than slits that he lifelessly peered through. A small sliver of blood streamed from a cut on his forehead. I wrapped my arms around his narrow frame, pulling hard.

Come on, I begged him. Fight.

He made no response to my touch.

I turned, slinging his body onto my back and holding his arms around my neck, then I kicked hard enough for both of us to rise. The process wasn’t graceful, and it wasn’t quick, but eventually we reached the shadow of our skiff, and our heads came above water.

I swallowed precious air, then jabbed my elbow against Clark.

“Breathe,”

I ordered. Then jabbed him again.

“Wake up and breathe.”

After my third jab to his chest, he sputtered out water, and all his limbs flailed.

“Stop that right now or we’ll sink!”

I spun, grabbing a fistful of his shirt to help keep him up. His wild copper eyes took in everything quickly, while his feet kicked hard enough to crash into me a few times.

“You need to help me flip this back over,”

I said, placing a hand against the skiff. It sat sideways, its sail rippling on the sea. Many ships around us could witness our defeat, but none ventured closer to aid. No doubt, they all rejoiced at one less competitor.

We weren’t out yet.

“Grab and flip.”

At the roughness of my tone, Clark obeyed, clawing his fingers against the wooden edge. On my count, we flipped, and the skiff righted itself.

“I’ll hold while you climb in,”

I said, bracing my hands beneath the hull.

“You go first.”

Clark’s teeth chattered as he spoke, his lips already a pale shade of blue.

“Someone needs to swim after the oars, and that someone should be me. Get in.”

His gaze flickered to our oars as they drifted away, then he obeyed.

Once he’d made it in, I dove after our oars, collecting them one at a time to bring to Clark. He accepted them without a word. Next, I swam after the papayas. When the fifth was collected, I pulled myself back into the boat.

No warmth greeted me. Only dampened spirits, a soaked skiff, and the feeling as if we’d already lost the labyrinth.

“The sail is loosened. I’ll tighten the rigging.”

Clark moved as if he had something to prove, prying at every halyard and checking every line. Meanwhile, I checked Aksel’s location.

“Without food or water, we will survive for two days. We can travel one day just fine, then we need to dock somewhere to find fresh water.”

Clark wore the expression he always did when he was thinking hard—in this case, determining our odds of survival.

“I’ll dive for seaweed tonight. That’ll help.”

I brushed droplets from my eyes.

“Worst case, we land at any one of the islands around us and pay for a jug of water and dried meat. I still have my coins, and you have yours.”

I patted the bag of coins at my side while gesturing to the larger bag of coins he carried on a string around his neck. I still carried one dagger at my hip, but other than that, we were defenseless.

At the reminder of the coins we still possessed, Clark eased.

“Good. We didn’t lose much then.”

He went back to checking the lines. Wind snapped into our sail, graciously carrying us in the right direction, and allowing me a moment’s rest before taking up the oars. We had a day and a half left, and hadn’t the slightest clue of how long we needed to go. Gulls squawked overhead, the sound almost like laughter.

I wouldn’t be one of those who returned home without having found the labyrinth. We would find it.

My hands tightened on the oars, and I started rowing.

Things quieted for a bit. The sun finally rose enough to suck some of the water from our bodies. The ice in my bones melted. My dark hair matted against my neck, thick with sweat and humidity, while Clark’s shriveled into little waves. He’d taken his shirt off to soak up water from the skiff then wring it out, repeating the process for hours until the water no longer soaked our feet. He didn’t put the shirt back on, instead hanging it beside the sail to dry.

Clark’s gasp punctured our silence.

“Your father’s notes.”

I faltered in my rowing. Then picked it up again. What was done, was done.

“Ren.”

Clark’s hand came to my shoulder, but I shook it off.

“Those notes can’t feed us when we are hungry, and they can’t get us into the labyrinth,”

I reasoned.

“So they don’t have much value right now. I’m fine.”

“You should have gone after them.”

I shook my head once, absolute and final.

“You are more important.”

The words were spoken without great tenderness nor love, but more as a fact. A fact that would always be true. His life mattered more than words on a page.

Though it didn’t make the loss sting less.

I waited to see if he’d try to say something to make me feel better. When he spoke, it was only to say.

“Let me take over rowing. You’ve gone long enough.”

I stood to let him take the oars. Then, because I had to do something with my hands, I drove my knife into a papaya. Juices dripped over my wrists as I passed half to him. Clark took it, but his eyes were on the horizon.

“I can’t see Aksel.”

“You’d be a horrid shiphand. We lost him an hour ago.”

Pure horror entered his eyes.

“How will we find the labyrinth without the one who holds the clue?”

I jutted my chin upward, toward the crystal blue skies. A mist still settled over the seas, one as thick as a cloud, and now I understood it. The clouds couldn’t be in the skies. The skies had to remain clear for us to see the clue.

“I’ll bet you fifty coppers his clue said to follow the stars.”

Clark’s brows stitched together. Clark had always been the smart one between the two of us—while I could sail better, he bested me in all else—so I savored the moment where I’d figured something out before him. Then, as my lips stretched wide over my teeth, I said.

“There’s stars in the sky, and they form an arrow. They are pointing to the labyrinth.”

He tipped his head back, shading his eyes with one hand while the breeze from the sea made a home in his hair. Clark had always been adamant about his hatred for sailing, and I’d half-expected him to be green in the skin by now, or heaving over the side of the ship. But he wasn’t. His movements were still jittery as if he’d fall apart if he let himself be still, though he’d yet to crumble. Rather, he’d built himself stronger. In these moments where I needed him more than I’d ever needed him, he’d set his hatred for sailing aside to save me.

He wasn’t a steadfast fortress. He was decaying ruins which he tried to hold against the storm for my sake.

He dropped his hand.

“I don’t see anything,”

he said. I thought I’d hidden my smile before his gaze wandered back to me, but I must have been too slow. A distrusting look made his eyes narrow. “What?”

“Nothing. Look—”

I sat across from him, pointing toward the east.

“A new constellation appeared between the Weeping Crown and the Fallen Pheonix last night. I kept my eye on it, which is why I can still see the outline. I know where to look.”

I tried to point, but his frown told me he didn’t see. My arm lowered.

“It’s there. And every time it shifts direction, Aksel shifts too. It’s guiding us through the mass of islands.”

He brightened as if we hadn’t just been tossed in the sea, lost most of our food, and our good weapons.

“We are going to find it.”

“If it’s within a two-day sail,”

I reminded him.

“And then we still need to figure out how to get inside. But yes. We are going to find the labyrinth.”

“We’ll get in. I can feel it.”

His rowing quickened.

I couldn’t be as sure. Not until that night, when the arrow hadn’t changed direction in hours, and pointed directly to an island so small it likely didn’t house anyone, and still remained as we drew near.

Finally, I felt confident enough to tell Clark.

“That’s the one.”

He stood to gaze upon it, bracing one hand against the mast.

“That’s where the labyrinth is?”

“The constellation is unchanging. It leads here.”

As we neared, the thick mist clouding the seas started to rise. As it did, the coastline came into view. A jagged, rocky shore met steep hills, every inch alive with vibrant greens as if spring had already come and gone upon the island. The waves rippled to welcome us in.

And a hundred ships lined the shore. Aksel’s docked among them.

His wife would be pleased. After all these years, Aksel found it.

A fluttering feeling spiraled through my belly. This was it. All those stories we’d heard, all the rumors about the vicious labyrinth. We were about to find out if they were true.

“Welcome to the Quarter Labyrinth,”

Clark breathed.

In the distance, I swore a wolf howled.

The King of the Labyrinth, once a young boy who went by the name Dimitri, was anything but kingly in his youth. But as fate would have it, he fell into two things.

One, in love, with a maiden by the name Alicent. She had silky pale hair like threads of gold and bronze skin like the hide of a lion. She moved like sunlight through the leaves, and Dimitri adored her from the shadows. But she was a princess, high and untouchable, and he, no more than a keeper of roses and thorns.

Two, he fell into a bit of magic.

It sat in the hedges of the garden, ancient and waiting for someone to find it. When Dimitri discovered the power, he thought to make something of himself.

Thus, he bled himself into the magic, and the labyrinth was born.

He set up a game for the islands to play at, offering a wish for whoever reached the center first. The game impressed the king, and caught the eye of the king’s daughter. Never before had such power been witnessed. But that is what happens when one bleeds into magic. It bleeds into you.

The man who reached the center first was a knight by the name of Dawson.

Dawson earned his wish. With it, he asked one thing.

Bind Dimitri to his labyrinth so he may never leave.

And what princess wants a man who is trapped in a labyrinth? Alicent did not, and Dawson went on to wed her.

Dimitri sank into the darkness of his labyrinth, closing the doors to all others.

For ages, he wandered it alone, until the magic sat idle for too long.

It longed to be used again.

Ripe for the taking, a second person bled themselves onto the walls of the maze—the descendant of Dawson and Alicent.

Thus, they were able to control the labyrinth once every four years, and used it to hose the competition once more.

Their line has always been able to host these games, no matter how unwilling Dimitri was.

And Dimitri allowed it, if only for his chance to get revenge on the decedents of Dawson and Alicent…now the descendants of Callahan.

This year, for the first time in a long while, a descendant will enter.