Page 43 of Labyrinth of Broken Vows
She lifts a trembling hand, cupping my face with fingers still stained from the fight, fingers that had once stroked my cheek to soothe me, to make me brave. I lean into her touch, my tears spilling over her hand. My chest heaves with words I can’t find, with a love so deep it drowns me.
“My son,” she whispers, her voice so soft, so achingly familiar, like the lullabies she’d once sung to me. She smiles again, and I feel the wound in my heart deepen, torn wider by that gentleness.
I manage a broken smile in return, though my vision blurs with tears. “It was you…” My voice is barely a rasp. “All these years, you were watching over me, guiding me…” My hands tighten around her as if holding her tighter could somehow stop this, could somehow make her stay.
Her lips pull into a small, pained smile, and she nods, the movement so weak it’s barely there. The fury rises, black and consuming, twisting my face as I glance back at Nyria’s crumpled body across the room. How dare she, how dare she ripthis from me, from us. But my mother’s hand, still pressed to my cheek, grounds me, pulling me back to her, to the final moments slipping between us like sand. “No,” she whispers, a firmness in her voice that cuts through my rage, as if she can still command me, even now. “No, my son. Not like this. Not with anger in your heart. I waited so long for you, for you to be the king this maze needs, for you to find the light in your sea of darkness. Don’ t let your anger consume you again.”
I choke on a sob, the rawness of her words sinking in, tearing through my rage until there’s nothing left but grief. “But she took you… she stole you from me,” I say, my voice cracking. “Why… why couldn’t she let me have you?”
Her gaze softens, filling with a sorrow I know too well, a sorrow I inherited from her, the burden she carried alone all those years. “The darkness… it consumes all it touches,” she murmurs, her fingers tracing the lines of my face. “But you, my beautiful boy, you’ve found a light to hold onto. Don’t let it go… for me.” Her gaze drifts to Brielle, her message clear even as her voice fades. “Don’t let anger steal your heart again. There is no room there now… for anyone but her.”
I try to lift her, desperation making my movements frantic. “I can save you. I’ll find a healer, someone to help. I won’t lose you again.” My voice shakes with the words, pleading as I clutch her, as if my grip alone could bind her soul to this world.
She gasps, and a look of agony crosses her face, but she stills my hands, clutching my arm with surprising strength. “No,” she whispers, her voice a faint echo, a feather-light whisper. “This is how it was meant to be… my son. I am so very proud of you.”
Her fingers graze my cheek one last time, a final touch that feels like goodbye, like every goodbye I never got to say. I feel her slip away in my arms, her hand falling limp, her eyes still fixed on mine, but empty now; beautiful and empty. Her warmth fades slowly, leaving nothing but a hollow ache, a void whereshe once was. I lay her down gently, smoothing her hair back, covering her with the curtain. As I rise, I steel myself, clutching onto my composure like armor. I am a king, after all. I am not supposed to feel this, to be swayed by grief like this. But when I finally look around, meeting the eyes of my warriors, of Grom… even Brielle, I see my own sorrow reflected back at me, raw and unhidden. Their faces, roughened by battles and hardened by loyalty, are softened now, glistening with the grief we all share. Each tear is a testament to her memory, to the kindness my mother wove into all our lives, whether they knew her as their queen or as the crow at my side. They knew her as I did. Her spirit touched everyone here, even Brielle; especially Brielle. My mother, through every whispered suggestion, every guiding moment as a crow on my shoulder, had led her to me, had woven this fate as tightly as if she’d stitched it herself.
Brielle steps forward, hesitant, her eyes fixed on mine. I can feel the weight of everything I’ve put her through, the burdens I selfishly placed on her shoulders, drawing her into my realm, into my chaos, just to fulfill my own desires. I was cruel to bring her here, to watch her stumble through my labyrinth of nightmares. The silence stretches between us, a fragile thread woven with unspoken words. I search Brielle’s eyes, unable to hide the rawness in mine, and I know she can see all of it, the cruelty, the desperation, the king unmasked, standing exposed and vulnerable before her.
“I am the monster they warned you about,” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “I am the darkness you were dragged into, the shadow that pulled you through that cursed maze…
Her hand rises slowly, and I brace myself, unsure if she’ll touch me or strike me for the pain I’ve caused her. But instead, her fingers press lightly against my cheek, grounding me, the warmth of her touch undoing me in ways I’d never expected. Sheholds my face in her hands, and her voice is a whisper, raw and steady.
“I spent my time here hating you, fearing you,” she begins, her thumb tracing a line along my cheek, “but somewhere in that darkness, I found myself. Every trial, every step you forced me to take in that maze, it led me here, didn’t it? To this moment.”
Her words cut through me, unraveling the walls I’ve held up for years. She pulls herself even closer, her eyes unyielding, searching mine with an intensity that’s fierce, almost gentle.
“I don’t want a king who pretends to be perfect, nor a man untouched by shadows,” she says, her voice unwavering. “I want the man who wears his scars and nightmares like armor. The man who made me stronger by breaking me down, only to build me up again. If you’ll be that man for me… then I’ll be your queen.”
Her words strike me, sinking deep into the places I thought were long dead. She sees through it all, the mask, the stories, the legends meant to inspire fear. To her, I am simply the man standing in front of her, stripped bare of titles and power.
I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss into her palm, “Then I am yours, Brielle. Irrevocably. You have my heart, my shadows, my soul—now and always.”
I trace my fingers along her jaw, my thumb lingering against her pulse as if binding my promise there. “I’ve commanded fear, I’ve been the monster in every story, but none of it matters beside you. You make me crave more than power. You make me crave a purpose. If you’ll have me, I’ll stand by you through every breath, until the day I am nothing but dust at your feet.”
She doesn’t look away, and the strength in her gaze reaches into the hollow, shattered parts of me, piecing them back together with nothing more than her presence. At this moment, I’d burn down a thousand kingdoms just to see her look at me like this forever.
"My she-wolf," I murmur, my voice low and reverent, "you’ve become everything I knew your were. A fierce, unbreakable, queen who commands the shadows instead of fearing them. I’d stand in hell a thousand times if it meant seeing you rise like this.”
The doors slam open, and Lord Thacket bursts in, his voice booming through the chamber with his usual brash energy. His gaze sweeps across the room, taking in the aftermath of the battle, the bowing warriors, and finally landing on Brielle and me, still standing hand in hand.
Thacket strides up to us, clapping each of us firmly on the back. "Finally," he says, a grin splitting his face as he turns to the assembled men. “Bow, all of you, to your new queen!” His words carry through the room, and in a wave of rustling armor and scraping boots, every warrior bends a knee to Brielle.
I feel her hand tense in mine, her fingers trembling just enough for me to notice. But when I glance at her, I see the pride beneath the nerves. Her chin is raised, her gaze steady as she accepts their silent fealty, the strength I always knew she possessed radiating from her in waves. I squeeze her hand, a wordless reminder that she’s earned this, that I’ll stand beside her.
The men rise, and Thacket turns back to me with a wicked smirk, clapping me on the shoulder once more. “Now don’t fuck it up,” he laughs, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
But the laughter dies as Thacket’s eyes catch on something near the edge of the room, the slight curve of a form beneath a hastily-draped curtain, dark hair spilling out. His grin fades as his face contorts, and he looks at me, a question in his eyes. But I can’t bring myself to say the words aloud, to explain the pain settling like lead in my chest.
He moves to her, kneeling down, and as his hand touches the edge of the fabric, his shoulders hunch. For a moment, I thinkI hear him whisper something, a private farewell or a promise; I can’t tell. He’s still, only for a heartbeat, then he stands and clears his throat, his voice gruff with an emotion I hadn’t thought I’d see from him.
“We’ll give her a proper burial,” he says, straightening as he turns to me, his voice carrying a respect and finality that commands everyone’s attention.
“Yes,” I answer, my voice thick with the weight of the moment. “In the garden.” The place she always loved, where light and shadow met among the vines, where she watched over everything like the quiet sentinel she was.
Thacket nods, and as he orders the men to make preparations, I feel the first real peace settle over me, a strange calm, even amidst the grief. I turn to Brielle, her eyes still bright, still unwavering, and I know this is the beginning of something my heart has been waiting for.
nineteen
