Page 146 of Kingdoms of Night

“That could work.” His stomach sank. If a place could laugh at them, this place probably would. But they had to try.

Everything they tried resulted in failure. String attached to one point and let out behind them, resulting in them finding the string in front of them, wadded up in a scarlet ball. Chalk and ink marked on the stones vanished after only a few seconds or changed directions. Trying to go in two separate directions resulted in both of them being brought back to the same point with a buzzing headache for each one.

“You know, I don’t think we’re going to trick our way through this one. This labyrinth has a mind of its own. It’s hard to out-trick a trickster.” Idalno rubbed her temples. “We probably just have to walk through it and trust we get where we need to go.”

“This doesn’t feel like a place that makes me want to trust,” Feron muttered. He kicked the now-wooden wall. It scuffed his boot. They weren’t even near the entrance.

“Me neither.” She clicked her teeth as she turned around slowly. “But we haven’t tried just solving it the usual way.”

“It has fought us at every turn. It’s probably just going to herd us wherever it wants us to go.”

“Then do we really have a choice?”

He grumbled and shoved at the wall again. “No. Just wasted time.”

It was all the worse not understanding why she was being so distant. Not that it mattered. Distance was safer. He couldn’t hurt her, then. Suppressing a tight smile, he shook his head. His willpower had faltered, just for a moment, because he’d been selfish, had selfishly wanted her, but even a moment was too much, too long, too dangerous. If he couldn’t trust himself to stay away, then her distance would do it for him.

Although it hurt, it needed to. She was making this decision easier.

CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE

FERON

They walked along, side by side but without touching one another. Feron offered to carry her pack once again, but she refused. Popping the stiffness in his jaw, he avoided looking at her. It was better not to feel anything at all. Better to be alone. Much better for everyone.

They followed the labyrinth around a bend. It opened up into a square court of sorts. A small, polished table with an intricate painted design sat in a corner with a delicate tea service and little pastries arranged in a semi-circle along with small stacks of colorful cakes. A little card with writing sat by the plate. Next to that stood a squat glass bottle with pinkish liquid inside. A tag hung on it. Glitter dusted the smooth gray stone all around them. It even clung to the walls.

“I don’t think we’ll be following that advice,” Idalno muttered.

“What?”

She gestured toward the cakes and potion bottle. “It says, ‘Eat me’ and ‘Drink me.’ I think we both know how badly that will go.”

He smiled a little, relieved he hadn’t had to acknowledge his inability to read. “At least Hawthorn and Buttercup aren’t here. They might have made that choice for us.”

That at least earned a smile from her. Her mouth twitched. “Yes. And we don’t need to be meeting any other witches. Do you ever work with a spear?”

“A spear?”

She indicated a tall golden spear leaning in the corner next to another small table with figurines of a white rabbit, a little girl in a blue dress with a white apron, playing card people, and a queen with hearts on her gown.

“No. I don’t like weapons. Prefer my claws. And teeth.” He lifted his hands. He hadn’t been trained in regular weapons either. What fighting he did know came from defending himself in scraps and defending himself. And before he was a werewolf—well, he didn’t want to remember that.

She nodded and made some non-committal sound. Then she continued on.

It felt as if they walked through the labyrinth forever, with the only indication of time’s passage being the sun as it moved farther across the sky. They drank a fair bit of the water and ate more of the stale baked goods and dried meat and nuts both from the lake and from her pack.

Noon passed, and the afternoon sped along. When they rounded a stone wall, a beggar in ragged garments sat at the end of the section between two ornate wooden doors. With his shoulders hunched up and a tattered brown cloak over his back, he appeared quite small. Dark glasses covered his eyes and most of his face, and gloves covered his hands.

“Please,” he said, his voice quavering. “Please. Help a poor soul at the end of his rope.”

Something smelled off about him. Aside from the body odor. A tang that he couldn’t quite place. A growl rose in Feron’s throat, but Idalno had already crossed over to the beggar.

“What do you need?” With a quick glance Feron’s way, she slowed as she drew nearer, subtly raising her chin, one hand on the top of her pack and the other near the obsidian dagger she wore at her side. “Food? Water? Medicine?”

“Whatever you can spare,” he said weakly. What teeth he had appeared yellow and unhealthy. “My head hurts, haven’t eaten for days. Can’t find my way.”

“Here.” Feron put himself between her and the beggar and took the last two and a half seed cakes. “Eat these. They’ll help you get your strength back.”

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