Page 6

The Snarl

It takes us hours to get there.

The sun is high in the sky by the time we reach the entrance to the Snarl. We’re cold, tired, and hungry and taking on a deadly maze is the last thing any of us want to do, but here we are.

We peer through a vined archway into a hallway of sorts formed by thick, tall grass. Everything is green, not a single glint of frozen anything, and the alluring scent that wafts to me is of fertile soil and spring. I was warned this place is deadly all by itself, full of bottlenecks, blind alleys, dead ends, and vortexes…and the sense that death watches from behind the walls.

“At least we’re not trying this at night,” Pella says in a hushed voice.

Vos claps a hand on Cain’s shoulder, pushing him forward. “Go ahead.”

Cain waves him on. “Feel free to go first if you’re in such a hurry.”

“It will be fine,” I say. “We’ll all be fine.”

Two fines in as many sentences. My friends aren’t the only ones reluctant to do this. The ghost told me the way through—the grasses inside the Snarl form walls that map out a maze so thick there’s no way we could forge a different path even if we wanted to—but I’m starting to worry the ghost left out important information.

Tziah rolls her eyes and steps forward, ignoring the way Cain reaches out to stop her. Vos, caught on the hop, runs to get ahead of her, which makes her roll her eyes again at his back.

When the grasses don’t immediately eat them, we follow.

Left. Right. Then left again. After we get that far without incident—beyond the odd sense that we’re not alone—I focus on navigating the maze.

A gleam of something bright white flashes between the grasses. I catch another glimpse, along with a whisper of trepidation. “Does anyone else see that?”

“See what?” Horus asks in a hushed voice.

“White— Oomph.” I stumble over a root. Scowling, I hop on one foot, nursing a now throbbing toe. “Watch where…”

Looking down, I forget my toe.

It isn’t a root sticking up from the ground. It’s a bone bleached white in the sun and woven into the grass walls down low around the roots.

“It’s just a bone.” Pella nudges a different one with her shoe and frowns at it. “The captain said people die in here.”

“Not exactly helping, Pell,” Cain grumbles.

“Didn’t the ghost say not to stop?” She prods me in the back, and we keep going.

More bones greet each cautious step, scattered around and piled up at the bases of the grasses. Stalks sprout up through hipbones and out of empty eye sockets.

“Not a single ounce of flesh on them.” Vos points this out, reaper grim. “This was a jewel of an idea, Meren.”

If we were anywhere but this place, I’d assume these bones were picked over by animals as they lay out in the open, but that doesn’t feel right. Instead, these seem to have been stripped bare in an instant. It doesn’t even smell of death in here. No rotting.

What could do that?

“Maybe they’re old.” The bright side is not usually the side I walk with ease, but neither is borrowing trouble.

Horus, with his bow out and an arrow already nocked, scans the narrow passage we’re walking down with wary eyes. “I don’t think having come here in daylight is going to help us much.”

Too late now. We only have another two turns to reach the center of the maze.

I could stop them here. Send them all back the way we came, reversing the directions we have. They don’t have to risk their lives because of me.

What kind of horrible queen lets her closest friends—people who are more like family to me—do this? I have authority. I should have ordered them to stay back. Stay out. No matter how much they insisted.

Vos stops up ahead before the maze takes a sharp right. He holds a finger to his lips and points to himself and Tziah. We agreed on this next step. They insisted on this part, ganged up on me even while we planned this, making sure I don’t try to protect them…because I’m their queen. Vos and Tziah move forward without us, and all we can do is wait. Every stir of the breeze has me tensing, so brittle with worry that I might snap at any second.

I check the sun in the skies. They’ve been gone too long.

I shift on my feet, craning my neck and trying to see any sign of them, any hint.

A strong hand steals around mine, giving me a squeeze, and I look up into the deep brown eyes of the man who’s been my friend since I was a little girl lost in the desert and he found me. Cain got me through my painful childhood and adolescence. He was the only one who came for me when I was kidnapped. He gave his people—no, sacrificed his people—to protect me and mine, and now, even against the wishes of his father, he came here with me today. He could have just sent Pella. She would have looked out for their zariphate’s interests.

But he didn’t.

Reven would have told me to bring them all, I’m sure. I can picture sitting with him around the fire when we were discussing this plan. He would have been grim faced, and he’d hate risking the others as much as I do, but he’d have insisted…to protect me.

Which is why I should have done the opposite. Maybe if he hadn’t been so hell-bent on protecting me, he’d still be here.

“You shouldn’t have come,” I say quietly.

The look Cain bends on me is familiar from our years of friendship, a blend of frustrated amusement. He lifts my hand and spreads it over his heart, which beats strong and steady against my palm.

I know what he’s saying with that gesture. The unspoken words between us chip away at my own heart, which is already like a broken mirror pieced back together after being dropped.

The Shadows stir.

“You’re going to get them all killed,” they whisper. “That’ll hurt. Especially losing him.”

Him. They mean Cain.

I wrap the numbness tighter around me like a wall, and they quiet again. Which is when Vos appears around the corner of the maze with Tziah right behind him. I let out a silent breath of relief. Her gaze tracks to my hand on Cain’s chest, but she doesn’t react. Tziah notices everything.

I tug my hand away, which makes Cain stiffen.

After this day is over, I should leave him. I should take Tabra and the Vanished and leave Cain and his people behind. I know we’ve been building alliances with other zariphates throughout Aryd, but I can let that go. If I kill Eidolon, we won’t need allies. Being tangled up with us isn’t fair to Cain. I have a bondmate who I love beyond all measure, even if I may never see him again in this life. I try not to allow Cain any hope where I’m concerned, but our friendship is familiar and comforting. This feels like I’m using him.

I catch Pella’s gaze on me. Not accusing. More…sad.

“The pond is where the ghost said it would be,” Vos tells us in a low voice.

Good. “Only Tziah and I can go from here.” Not exactly true, but I’m not risking anyone else. “You need to be ready in case this doesn’t work.”

“Ready for what?” Cain demands.

“Whatever that flute does, if the captain was right. The ghost only said not to let one monster wake the other. Hopefully Tziah is all we need to keep that from happening.”

Horus jerks a step closer. “I’m not leaving you, domina.”

I knew he’d say that. I put a hand over his, staying him. “Remain with the others. That’s an order.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, his throat corded so tight, I’m surprised he can swallow. But he nods. I really hate playing the queen card.

“Trust me,” I say to them all. “This is what I was told to do.”

Cain stares at me long and hard before looking away, jaw working.

It takes Vos, who’s been gesturing back and forth with Tziah, saying, “Go,” for the others to back down.

Tziah shoots Vos a closed-mouth smile, which earns her a flat-lipped stare in return. He isn’t any happier than the others about this, but they trust each other.

I usher Tziah to lead the way. “If you see the flute, do your thing.”

She reaches a hand back for me, and I take it and follow her down the maze. After turning at the first right we come to, our isolation presses in on me. All I can see are long, slender green leaves, patches of sky overhead, the back of Tziah’s bright white hair, and the deep blue skin of her neck. And the bones at our feet, of course.

One more turn and she stops, then waves me closer. I peer around her, catching the way the maze opens up into a broader space and a shimmer of bright sunlight on water. Inching forward, carefully I search the small clearing around the pond. Sure enough, no one is there. But I expected that.

I hold up a hand, asking Tziah to stay put while I move closer to the pond. When nothing happens, I get down on my knees beside the glass-still waters that reflect the blues of the sky with little puffs of white clouds floating lazily by, then lean out over the water.

Please don’t let anyone die today.

My reflection stares back at me from the surface—wide, cat-like amber eyes, lips that tip up at the corners, the dimple in my chin, thick, dark hair pulled up into a braid that coils over one shoulder.

This better work.

I call out, high and clear, “Aesthetus?”