Chapter 16

My skin tingled as the sparks of portal magic collected in my collar and sent light shockwaves through my nerves. I was only travelling through space for a fraction of a second, but the enchanted restraint on my neck often made the journey feel much, much longer. Objects affixed with magic were much more difficult to transport than flesh and bone, and the low, painful buzz that lingered on my skin, served as a frequent reminder of that fact.

I didn't know why Jericho insisted I continue to wear this accursed accessory. I'd long since learned my lesson on disobeying him, and he'd not had to activate its paralysis enchantment in at least four hundred years. Yet still he kept it on me, and still he wouldn't let me loosen it even an extra millimeter. I tugged at the leather in futility, as I always did when I materialized on the other side of a warp zone. My boots touched down on ice, and I immediately stabilized myself on the low traction surface.

The Green Sector was at my back, and the sound of slipping footsteps wasn't far in the distance. I sniffed the air, searching for that strange flowery, fruity meat smell of hers. The sharp scent of Theron's burnt cinnamon chocolate wafted through the maze, an exact opposite to Master's vanilla and nutmeg, creating an odd mixture of sweet and savory that wasn't entirely unappealing. I actually liked it, if I was being honest. The combination was unique and appetizing, and I wouldn't have minded indulging. Not a thought I often had around the Dream Weaver.

Theron…

It had been a while since I'd had to interact with him. Rarely did he accompany the tributes, and he'd typically long lost interest in them by the time they made it far enough to merit my intervention.

On the contrary, Theron always made a point to emphasize how begrudgingly he played along every year. He would typically place his tracking mark first thing to fulfill his duty, then practically go on vacation or take naps for the rest of the event.

Which was fine. His mark meant the tribute could always be located, and Master could enjoy the show through whatever link he shared with the Dream Weaver. While I didn't much care what happened to the mortals, it had helped tremendously when they wandered somewhere obscure. I could still taste the horrendous smell from the time we'd lost track of a tribute and didn't find their corpse until three weeks of baking in the Tartarus sun had passed. Never again.

But as helpful as that was, I still was far from a fan of Theron's devil may care attitude. I often felt he only obeyed the King performatively, while some misguided desire to murder Master was always beneath the surface of Theron's too obvious emotions. It was pathetic that a man so much older than me was so much less capable of tempering his poker face. I had much more to deal with than he did, emotionally, physically, and in expectations, responsibility, and decree, yet I could always maintain a steel expression.

But Theron seemed to bank on the fact that he and Master grew up together, like the King wouldn't touch him just because they had once been friends. Though I knew Jericho offered no special privilege to anyone, and it was hard to say if Theron's general abdication of responsibilities was out of genuine insubordination or justifiable fear.

Whatever the case, he operated freely outside the Labyrinth and lived however he saw fit the rest of the time. He only had actual orders or expectations placed upon him for this singular event.

I wasn't jealous of his freedom. Of course I wasn't. I was allowed a seat at the throne and a room in the castle, while he wasn't.

My Adam's apple bobbed against the tight collar on my neck, and I inhaled deeply to drain any unwanted emotions knocking in my chest.

Not jealous .

Just the same, I wouldn't mind running him through with my horns a few times just to get the frustration out of my system. I was loyal enough to Jericho to resist going any further than that.

I said all this like his biggest critic, yet I was still the one who dropped the girl at Theron's doorstep to cover my tracks after the Senseless Forest incident. Despite my disdain, some deep part of me knew he could be trusted to play this singular game. To have faith in someone you hated was a conflicting feeling.

Right. Not the point. I didn't need to be thinking about the Dream Weaver right now. The tribute was my real mission. He was just a bonus.

I bit my lower lip then dragged it along my teeth, tugging at my labret piercing in the process. I could vividly feel her energy from here. She still had my blood in her system, and that was sending small signals to my brain that I very much didn't want. Having her enchanted with my blood while inside my living maze was enough to get under my skin all its own. I still wasn't certain to the extent of which I'd fucked up with that one. Hopefully it wasn't going to be a problem.

I didn't understand what had compelled me to help her in the first place. When I saw her fighting so hard despite her complete loss of senses, some foolish, unexplainable urge had told me to ease her suffering, and now I was going to have to deal with the consequences of over-sensitivity and reckless compassion. I should have let the Skolexes eat her.

I shook my head to admonish myself.

I couldn't tell the King I'd saved her in the forest, and I absolutely couldn't admit that I'd created a direct bond with the woman. I was going to have to actively avoid injuring her, making her cry—making her feel any intense emotions—until my blood fully passed through her system, which likely wouldn't be until long after the Twilight Clock had ticked away its final hour. The Centimane had already showed me exactly how powerful that link truly was. It was a wonder I'd managed to hold the contents of my stomach. That would have been hard to explain to the King.

My only hope was that something else killed her before she got far enough in for Jericho to notice her unnaturally fast healing, or the way I was fighting my own unstable, linked nerves and emotions. I wouldn't be mauling her while I knew he was watching, precisely so it wouldn't be so obvious.

So, focus on Theron. Pretend to miss the girl. No problem.

I crouched down to ready my charge. The footsteps neared. Left, straight, right, right, left, straight. 857 meters away. Every footstep reverberated through my soul, and I drew on the stored power of my maze to plan my route and build my magic.

Annoying as Theron was, I would need all the energy I could muster to take on the Master of Nightmares. His strength wasn't a joke, even if his personality was.

Launching off my glutes and quadriceps, I broke into a full sprint and accelerated rapidly. My heels tapped true as my powerful legs propelled me forward. I rounded turns with familiar precision, moving too light and quick for the ice to have any purchase over my footwork.

What an embarrassment it would be to not be able to navigate a place we'd all been an infinite number of times. Theron's "getting knocked over" act earlier was pathetic at best, and I couldn't watch anymore after he pulled such a contrived stunt. As if he'd ever let his guard down far enough to lose balance. I didn't believe it, and I certainly didn't appreciate it. The way she was looking at him during the act only made it worse.

I covered the 800 meters in seconds, then I threw myself against a wall to wait and listen. I had the speed, agility, and precision to gore the both of them in the span of a single breath, but Theron's reflexes were far from untrained, and it was unlikely I could get the jump on him with so much open space still between us. Liking him and respecting his ability were two very different things, and I certainly wasn't about to underestimate the devil.

So instead, I held, and I waited.

"Can't you give me some kind of hint as to what's next?" A feminine voice asked. It was melodic, perfect, and pleasant to my ears. "I promise I won't get mad at you for spoiling the surprise."

Hearing her in person was nothing like she had sounded through the projection, and the natural frequency of her vocal chords built a warmth in my chest. I wanted her to keep talking. What would my name sound like through those lips?

Stop thinking about that.

"Yes, because it's your anger I'm worried about." Theron brought me back to reality with his annoyingly deep and playful tone. I latched onto it to keep focus.

"I just watched you melt the skin off a giant monster with a hundred hands simply by touching it. What do you ever have to be worried about?" Damn it. Hearing her talk about melting skin was like a siren song. Her words fluttered and constricted around my heart with beautiful temptation.

Again, that was undoubtedly the blood talking.

Theron clipped his laugh, like he was trying not to be openly amused, but they still sounded so friendly and casual. Her growing fondness for him was translating through my blood link, and I didn't appreciate the way it was hitting me. But worse was the way he encouraged such ease and comfort. Was that part of an act? I'd never known the Dream Weaver to be a good liar.

"You know what they say: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. The longer I'm stuck with you, the more I believe it." He dismissed her obvious and unearned compliment with another obvious compliment. I couldn't say if hers was earned or not, but that soothing sound of her laughter made me think it might be.

Again I shook off that notion, and again, I hoped my fluids passed quickly through her system. Whatever the case, this conversation was inappropriately pleasant when he was supposed to be demoralizing the tribute.

The two of them weren't far from me now, and yet I wished I could keep listening in. I felt like I needed to understand this odd relationship better before I made a move. Their conversation was nothing like anything I had with Master.

Though if I didn't act soon, the king would likely punish me, and that wasn't any more helpful.

On soundless steps, I backed away and slipped behind a wall of the Labyrinth that would lead them in entirely the wrong direction, figuring that would buy myself a bit more time to observe. Maybe this was a test, really. If Theron was doing his job, he should lead her this way. If he wasn't, my hiding spot would be adequate.

They walked by, perfectly en route to the Green Sector. Theron didn't even bat an eye at going the wrong way.

That's what I thought.

I slipped out of my cover and stood behind them as they walked down the corridor. I'd ordinarily expect the Dream Weaver to sense my presence, but he was quite obviously distracted.

I lifted my chin and drew a slow, deep breath into my lungs through my nostrils. Then I charged forward with everything I had.