Page 58 of The Prince and His Stolen Groom
“That’s not a bad suggestion,” I said, squeezing his hand. “But those old dungeons were controlled environments. They may get the occasional rats or other pests, but these forests would have deer,maybe even wild boar, all heavy enough to accidentally set off any trap. One of us also should have felt some sort of shift if we’d stepped on a suspicious patch of dirt.”
“Not that I would notice,” Brendon replied, gesturing to his armor. “I can’t feel anything in this getup.”
“True, but I think it’s fair to assume that for a construct like this, the trigger had specific targets. Which means it either appearedafterKit and the Good Wizard came through last night, or they didn’t meet the conditions.”
“What kind of conditions would they not meet?”
I glanced down at our joined hands and blushed. “There’s a chance that—well, I’m sure Kit and the Good Wizard weren’t exactly—she and Franny—I don’t even know if she likes—you know her better—”
Brendon arched an eyebrow. “Do you plan to finish any of those sentences anytime soon?”
I saw another crossroads ahead and said in a strangled voice, “Look! Our next quest,” and tugged Brendon forward.
There were only two paths: to the right the maiden statue, to the left the old man. We’d probably have to answer at least one question and confess one secret to escape the maze. Would the requirements get harder the further we went?
“Which one?” Brendon asked. “Questions or secrets?”
I looked between them. If the cost of passage did rise with each crossroads, it’d probably be better to get the secret out of the way now. “Left.”
Brendon nodded and we approached together, still holding hands. I was pretty sure we’d completed the task, but I didn’t let go.
“If you would like to proceed down this path, you must confess one secret,” the old man grumbled.
“What kind of secret?” Brendon asked.
The old man’s lips pursed in thought—or like he was chewing something—then he said, “Each of you must confess one secret fear.”
“Easy,” I said. “Spiders.”
“Heights.”
I blinked and looked at Brendon in horror. “You’re afraid ofheights?” And I’d locked him in a fuckingtower. Where the only bed was up a narrow, winding flight of stairs. I suddenly remembered the moment on the stairs when he’d tripped, and I’d caught him. Remembered his trembling hands, his wide eyes. He’d been terrified and I’d been fuckinghorny.
Brendon shrugged as if it wasn’t important, though he wouldn’t look at me. He tugged me forward to pass the grumbling old man. The statue’s face contorted, the wrinkles deepening, the lips pulling back in a snarl.
I scrambled backwards, bumping into Brendon’s metal chest. He steadied me and switched his grip to put his arm around my waist, holding me close to his side. “Guess that wasn’t a big enough secret,” he said, his breath tickling my ear. “Do you want to see what the question is?”
I arched my neck to look beyond Brendon’s broad shoulders to the maiden with her sweet, demure expression. The gargoyle had been terrifying, but its task had been easy. The old man was sort of neutral—ugly face, harder question. I shuddered just thinking about what the maiden might have in store. “Fear isn’t so bad,” I said, turning back to the old man. “We just have to … delve a little deeper. Unless you want to …?” I trailed off, leaving him to choose after he’d just asked me to.
“Confession it is,” Brendon said. He squeezed my hip and then grabbed my hand again as we stepped forward.
The old man went through his spiel again then patiently waited for our answers. I opened my mouth, then closed it, because I couldn’t think of what to say.
Brendon spoke first. “I’m afraid I won’t ever experience romantic love.”
My hand reflexively tightened on his. He stared straight ahead, jaw tight, hand limp in mine. I thought of his letters to Franny, so desperately trying to connect with someone who kept ignoring him.
“Brendon—”
“Both of you must answer in order to pass,” the statue interrupted.
I swallowed roughly around the lump in my throat. “I’m afraid—” The last few days passed before my eyes, every choice I’d made even knowing it was wrong, all the dark creatures entering the kingdom only after I’d fucked up.
You are perilously close to a life of evil,the Good Wizard had said, and the only evidence he had for that was that Iowneda magic tower. He didn’t even know what I’d done with it.What would he say if he knew I’d used that tower to lock away a prince?That was classic, textbook villain behavior. No matter what my motivations were, I knew how it looked to outsiders—I’d experienced the backlash before.
But as I stood there, holding Brendon’s hand, the memory of his taste lingering on my lips, I thought to myself:I’d fucking do it again.
“I’m afraid I’m actually evil, and that I’ll somehow destroy the kingdom if I stay here.”
