Page 5 of Labyrinth of Broken Vows
I swallow hard, forcing myself to hold back the well of emotion rising in me. “What choice do I have?” My voice is barely a whisper. “Who would I report him to? He is the law here, Alaric. You know as well as I do that nothing will be done. A woman is her husband’s property, and no man shall tell him what to do with his property. If I speak up, it will only bring more of his wrath on me.”
Alaric’s eyes are heavy with sadness as he listens, his lips pressed into a tight line. “That may be the way of this place, Brielle, but you deserve so much more than this. You’re not some object for him to control, no matter what the law says.”
I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “Deserve? What does it matter what I deserve if there’s no escape? Henry owns me, and he’ll make sure I never forget that.”
Silence falls between us, thick and suffocating. I look down at the scattered pages, wishing desperately that I could disappear into the words like I used to, but even that small comfort has been stripped from me. Alaric’s eyes soften as he stares at the scattered remains of the book, then back at me, his voice heavy with sadness. “The world is unfair,” he murmurs, his tone raw with emotion. “When men choose to hurt the ones that love them... I will never understand that. My sweet Marie... I could never lay a hand on her unless it was to show her my love.”
His words feel like a balm and a knife all at once—gentle, but cutting deep into the wound that Henry leaves festering in me. My throat tightens as Alaric takes my hand, squeezing it gently. “Brielle, promise me you will be careful. I hate to see you like this. You may think you don’t deserve more, but you do, my sweet child. You do.”
I look at him, my heart twisting painfully. “Even if I could escape, run away and start somewhere new… he’d find me, Alaric.” My voice wavers, the fear catching in my throat. “Or worse, I’d starve to death. My survival depends on this man; thismonster. I wouldn’t know the first thing about how to live on my own. I have no money, no family. He made sure of that.”
Alaric’s face softens further, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. He just nods, unable to argue against the cruel reality I’m trapped in. There’s nothing left to say.
Suddenly, a commotion erupts outside—shouts and the shuffle of feet, voices rising in panic. My heart leaps into my throat, and I freeze, panic seizing me. Alaric’s eyes widen, and without a word, he grabs my arm gently and pulls me toward the back of the shop.
“Quickly, through the back door,” he urges, his voice low and urgent.
I follow him, my body trembling as fear coils tight inside my chest. At the back entrance, he pauses, glancing out to the alley, and I peek past him, my heart hammering wildly. A crowd has gathered in the street, and from the murmurs, I hear something that scares me to my core.
“The guards… they’re everywhere,” I whisper, ducking behind the cloak, my hood pulled tighter around my face.
“Stay hidden,” Alaric mutters. “It’s the safest way.”
The crowd’s whispers grow louder, more frantic, and I catch snippets of their conversation as I press myself into the shadows. “A troll... it’s a troll coming to the wall.”
“What does it want?” someone asks nearby, their voice quivering.
“The Maze King… he seeks an audience with the king. A peace treaty.”
The words hang in the air, strange and heavy. A troll? A treaty? My heart pounds as I slowly edge my way through the crowd, trying to make myself as invisible as possible. The guards’ eyes scan the crowd, but none fall on me.
The whispers swirl around me as I slip away into the maze of bodies, cloaked and concealed. Behind me, Alaric’s parting words echo in my mind.
The worldisan unfair and scary place.
Back home, my mind is lost in the thoughts of trolls and this mysterious Maze King. My head was filled with the stories I’d heard, the ones you’re not supposed to think about too long, or they’ll take root in your nightmares. The Maze King. God, even saying the name felt like an invitation for something dark to come creeping through the cracks.
The tales were always the same—a ruler who wasn’t just a man but something far worse. Something twisted, with those black, soulless eyes that seemed to see through you. They said he had skin pale as death, hair as dark as the ravens that followed him everywhere. And those creatures… the ones they called his army. Crowheads. Huge, hulking things, all feather and malice, with faces like birds of prey. I could see them in my mind; their bodies clad in tarnished armor, bones decorating their chests like trophies from all the lives they’d taken. I’d always wondered if those stories were meant to scare kids, but now… now, I wasn’t so sure.
The Maze King didn’t feel like a story anymore. When I hear him coming to the door. Henry walks in, and I immediately feel the tension crawl into my bones. He looks… different. Worried, maybe, but not angry. Yet, my body remains on alert, every muscle taut, waiting. I wish—God, how I wish—I could go to him, ask if he’s alright, maybe even touch him like a real wife might. But I don’t. I know better than that. That’s not my role. I’m just supposed to sit here, pretend like the world outside these walls doesn’t even exist.
He sits at the table without a word, his usual ritual. I plate his food, moving quietly, as if the sound of my own footsteps might set something off. Sitting across from him, I keep my eyes on thetable, stealing glances at him as he eats. There’s no conversation, not even the false pleasantries people share after a long day.
I want to ask him about the troll, the Maze King, everything I overheard while I was out. But I can’t. I’m not supposed to know. It’s not my place to know.
When he finishes, he leans back, staring at me for a long moment. I brace myself, waiting for whatever comes next.
"I’m attending a meeting with the Maze King tomorrow," he says, casually, like it’s nothing. "He’s requested an audience with the king. Wants a peace treaty."
My heart races, but I keep my face blank, eyes wide with feigned surprise. "The Maze King?" I repeat softly. "Will you… be in danger?"
He smirks, leaning forward slightly. "Every day I step outside this house, I’m in danger," he says, his voice dripping with condescension. "But I do it for you, Brielle. For us. For honor."
His eyes bore into mine, waiting for my gratitude. My lips part, and I offer the only words that will keep me safe. "Thank you," I whisper, even though the words taste bitter.
He nods, satisfied, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes. "It’s just a formality anyway. The king’s not even attending. We’ll go in pretending to be his escort, and once we’ve got the Maze King where we want him… well, we’ll attack."
My stomach churns. "But… what about the peace treaty?" I ask, my voice trembling. "If he wants peace, isn’t that… good?"
