Page 119 of The Trials of Ophelia

“At first I thought maybe it was because of Ophelia, but you’ve been quiet. Your eyes catalog everything, and…” She gestured to where my fingers drummed a nervous beat on the table. I hadn’t even noticed I’d been doing it. “It’s because of your imprisonment.”

She always spoke of what I went through so blandly. Not minimizing it—there was always a deep understanding beneath her words—but she did not shy away from it the way others did. It made it easier for me to speak about, too.

“I believe we’re safe,” I said. “But the halls look similar. It’s easy to be pushed back there.”

“I understand,” Mila said quietly. “It’s hard for me, too.”

For a minute I watched her. How her fingers traced patterns around her knee as she thought. How she chewed her lip in a way I was envious of. She was watching something across the room, but dammit I didn’t care what. I couldn’t look away.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

Those blue eyes blinked up at me, and I realized it was the first time I’d really asked her. Though I’d been wondering for weeks, I hadn’t pulled myself out of my own damn head enough to figure out what was going on in hers.

Right as I thought she might answer, Cypherion took the chair on her other side, asking about the alliance army. I kept my attention on Mila as she answered. How easily she fell into the routine of statistics and strategies. How being in control relaxed a bit of the unease she clearly suffered from these caves—for whatever reason.

When there was a lull in the conversation, and Cypherion turned to tell Santorina something, I leaned toward Mila, whispering low in her ear, “It may be hard for us both, but you’re not alone, Mila.”

I wasn’t sure if her answering shiver was from the proximity or the chord my words struck.

Chapter Forty-One

Ophelia

I washed and changed into warmer clothing provided by these allies I had yet to meet. A pair of leather pants lined with soft fur, a thick tunic that was somewhat stiff, and a leather corset strapped over it. With my dagger at my thigh, Angelborn across my back, and my sword belt around my waist, I was ready to present the Mystique Revered to those we hoped to sway to our side.

Tol stood in the corner mumbling suggestively the entire time it took me to prepare, but swearing he averted his eyes. Though I didn’t really mind either way, the strain his fae revelation strung between us made me want him to suffer a bit. Vindictive? Perhaps, but it was another of our games. Having to look away while I changed my clothes seemed like his personal form of torture.

Once I was ready, he laced our fingers and pulled me through the tunnels, stopping first to check on Sapphire. She eased at my presence, and I wished I could have stood there all day muttering soothing words to her and brushing her coat.

Tol didn’t rush me, but with one last lingering look and a kiss on her nose, we left the horses to rest.

The ground in the tunnels was soft beneath the boots I’d been loaned—shorter than my usual pair and lined, as well. My breath gathered before me on each exhale, visible by the flickering yellow orbs of mystlight ingrained in the dirt walls. They bathed the Labyrinth in their warm glow, making it cozy despite the circumstances that landed us here and the threats over our heads.

Strolling through with Tol, I tried to take everything in. The wooden beams stretched across the ceilings and reinforcing the walls. The brick arches appeared to have been crafted to the doorways with such care.

We passed rooms that looked much like those I’d woken up in—impersonal and bare but comfortable enough. Then, he took me through a path of twists and turns I tried to memorize. No doors lined these walls, clearly more for passage than anything.

One thing was clear from the tunnels: The Labyrinth was more elaborate than I could have imagined. There were secrets here that made my fingers dance, itching to uncover them.

I stopped in my tracks when we reached a large open space where six tunnels converged, circling around with my head tilted back.

“This is incredible,” I said. More than any of the others, this space seemed tended to. Along the walls, square gaps were carved into the dirt looking on to winding staircases. The bulbs of mystlight didn’t flicker; they shone.

“It spans almost the entirety of their territory.” My gaze snapped down to Tolek’s. “In some places it’s merely a thin tunnel. There are pockets like this where it’s vast.”

“Wow,” I breathed, unsure what else to say.

Tolek laughed. “It’s not often I see you speechless.” His voice was wistful as he squeezed my hand. “Come on, they’re waiting.”

As we turned down one of the six offshoots, I noticed crumbling rock filling another. Foreboding twisted through my stomach at the possibility of a cave in, but I pushed the concern aside.

Despite the chilled air, my skin was beginning to feel sticky beneath my leathers. “I may be impressed by their excavation skills,” I said, fidgeting with the sleeves of my tunic, “but I cannot say I’m a fan of their fashion choices.”

“Why’s that?” Tolek quirked a brow.

“There’re so many layers.” I preferred leathers crafted specifically for me, and the temperate climates meaning I could display whatever I wanted. I liked looking down and seeing the scars across my arms and torso, symbols of the battles I survived.

“Mm-hmm, I’d prefer fewer layers, too,” Tolek teased with a wink, quickly pulling me into a room. “We’re here.”

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