Page 44 of Labyrinth of Broken Vows
Brielle
The soft rhythm of the horse’s hooves was like a heartbeat as we made our way back, a cadence both familiar and unsettling as we moved through the twisting shadows of the maze. With each mile, the walls seemed to shift, as if echoing Thorne’s will. He shifted the walls, making our journey home shorter. He was undoing the darkness Nyria had laced through the maze, her curse now just a memory, fading like her cruel, fierce gaze as the life drained from her eyes. That memory should have haunted me. Instead, I felt a vicious satisfaction watching that fire die. But what did that make me?
It hasn’t been that long since everything has changed, and it all felt like a fever dream. I still couldn’t grasp it; this new role, this title. Queen.His queen.How could that even be real? The man at my back, the one I barely knew but felt tied to as if fate had whispered my name into his soul, seemed more familiar thanany stranger should. I feel like I’m missing something; like this is all some cruel joke that I’m not in on.
As if he felt the spiral of my thoughts, his rough voice rumbled against me, shattering my reverie. “Don’t get lost in that head of yours, she-wolf,” he said, his breath warm on the back of my neck.
A smile tugged at my lips. “I’m not lost.”
The horse slowed to a stop as he shifted his weight, and his hand tightened on the reins. “Well, you must be, because since we started our journey back, you’ve been quiet; and your lips still haven’t found mine. I do think you’re lost.”
My pulse quickened, a rush of heat climbing up my cheeks. I hadn’t realized how distant I’d been, locked inside my own thoughts, trying to find my footing. “So… my lips not finding the path to yours makes me lost?”
“Indeed,” he said, his voice a teasing growl. “You’ve been wandering around in that head of yours, and you’ve lost your way.”
His words melted the walls I’d built around myself with an ease that should be criminal. I couldn’t hide my grin, a flutter awakening in my stomach. “Well, maybe I need someone to set me on the right path, then.”
In one smooth motion, he slid his hand up my neck to cup my jaw, pulling me back against his chest, his heartbeat strong and steady beneath me. “Then allow me,” he murmured, his eyes locking onto mine, his lips so close I could almost feel their warmth.
I closed my eyes, surrendering to the moment, letting the world fall away. But his lips never touched mine, lingering just a breath away. When I opened my eyes, his smirk, barely there, ignites a blush that I can feel burn right through me.
“What are you doing?” I huffed, feeling a mix of frustration and anticipation. “I thought you were going to kiss me.”
He chuckles, amused, “I said I’d help you find the path. I never promised to walk it for you.”
I swear, I want to push him right off of the horse. Instead I make a show of rolling my eyes and jerking my head from his hand. “Unbelievable. You’re—”
Before I can finish, he pulls me back to him and finally, his lips meet mine. The world tilts slightly, my breath catching as his mouth claims mine, deep and slow, a kiss that leaves nothing to chance. I feel every inch of it, every surge of heat and spark that passes between us. The horse shifts under us, grounding me just enough to remember we are not floating, though it feels like we were.
He pulls back, giving me a quick, final peck before resting his forehead against mine, his breath as uneven as mine. "Don't overthink this, Brielle. You're in control of everything, alright? Don’t get caught up in what you think should or shouldn’t be. Just..." he whispers, his voice rough and low. "Just be with me."
I smile and nod, unable to find the right words. He’s shattered and remade my world all at once. As I turn back to face forward, settling against him, he mutters, “Such a difficult little thing.”
The laugh that slips out of me feels like the first real breath I’ve taken in days, and with my hand resting on his, I know this is the path I’m meant to walk, even if every step with him feels like stepping into the unknown.
As we approach the castle, my breath catches in my throat. It looms ahead, dark and foreboding, its silhouette stark against the fading sky. Tall, narrow windows punctuate the fortress-like walls, and severe spires reach toward the heavens like sharp claws. It looks more like a monument to the shadows than a home, and yet there’s a certain magnificence to it. The horse slows, and the imposing front doors swing open to reveal a mix of staff waiting for us, some human, others with the heads of crows, their intelligent eyes watching us with silent respect.
Thorne leans in close, his warm breath tickling my ear. “Welcome home,” he murmurs, the words wrapping around me like a promise.
Home. The word jolts through me, dragging memories of my simple life back in town to the surface. How different that feels now, like a distant, faded dream. I’m still staring, struck by the sheer weight of it all, when he swings down from the horse and reaches up to help me. His hands are strong and warm as they guide me to the ground, steadying me. But the moment my feet touch the earth, a sudden thought pierces through me.
I gasp. “Henry.” His name bursts from my lips like a cry, the memory of that terrible day crashing into me. My eyes lock onto Thorne’s, desperate for an answer.
He pulls me closer, his arms circling me in that possessive way that somehow makes me feel both safe and breathless. “That’s the last time I’ll hear you shout another man’s name, she-wolf.” His eyes glint with an intense mix of humor and something darker. “The dog is alive. Inside. Unfortunately. Though I can’t say with certainty,” he drawls, smirking. “If the staff took pity on him, perhaps he’s been fed.”
“You kept him alive?” I breathe, shock and an odd sense of relief washing over me in equal measure.
His expression shifts to one of pained annoyance, exaggerated just enough to be comical. “Barely,” he sighs dramatically. “The thought of ending him crossed my mind hourly. Every second, actually.” He grins, but his eyes reveal a flicker of restraint. “It’s me you should pity, really. It’s been torture.” His theatrical grimace coaxes a smirk from me, despite the storm of emotions churning inside.
Then, without warning, he pulls me into a kiss, his lips urgent and consuming, the world blurring again until nothing else exists. When he finally pulls back, his voice is softer but firm.“He’s yours to deal with, Brielle. His fate is your decision. That’s why he’s still breathing.”
The weight of his words settles heavily on me. Henry—my past, my mistake, my guilt—lives only because Thorne left his fate in my hands. He’s giving me the chance to end it, to sever the last tie however I choose.
The thought of Henry alive and somewhere in this castle gnaws at me, Thorne’s words echoing in my mind. I should feel powerful, maybe even some grim satisfaction, knowing he’s at my mercy. But instead, dread and guilt twist deep in my chest. I bury the feeling as best I can, letting him lead me.
We step inside, and the shadows of the castle seem to close around us. Dark stone walls rise high, lined with deep red tapestries and carvings of wolves, crows, and other creatures that seem almost alive in the flickering torchlight. The air smells of cedar and smoke, heavy and ancient, mingling with the faint murmurs of staff moving about in near silence.
Some have the heads of crows, their dark feathers gleaming in the dim light, their sharp eyes following us as we pass. The human servants wear robes of rich, dark fabric, their faces softening with fleeting smiles as they glance my way.
