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“Says you,” he said with a smirk.
I sighed heavily, twirling a stray strand of hair around my finger. I wasn’t the betting type, but with nothing on the line, it seemed best to humor him. “Fine. I bet it’ll be scrubbing floors today.”
“You seem pretty sure of that answer.”
“Working in the library isn’t all that bad. Therefore, I think it’s the least likely chore we’ll have today.”
He nodded in agreement. “Well, I hope you’re wrong. For pride’s sake.”
We were both wrong.
Reyna didn’t come to our room to retrieve us that morning. She sent Tristan instead. He greeted us and when Ladon asked about Reyna, he grumbled before snapping at us to get moving.
I surmised through words unspoken that Reyna may not be in the mountain. That she might’ve been traveling elsewhere. Probably the reason why Ladon was spared from keeping her company the past few nights.
The thought alone was enough to make my stomach twist and turn. That night kept playing in my head every time I closed my eyes. When I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw the eyes of every guest boring into me. Every draft was a harsh reminder of foreign lips on my neck. A piece of me died that night.
It felt like my entire world had been shattered. I’d been living under the delusion that we’d be safe. That we would make our way out of Murvort unscathed. Maybe a few minor bumps and bruises, but whole, nonetheless. But all along Ladon had been shouldering this heavy weight alone. And now that I knew—now that I’d experienced it myself—I’d never be the same.
I didn’t think either of us would ever be whole again.
Tristan led us down winding hallways, up two staircases and through a courtyard with a glass atrium. We dove back into the dark mountain and after three left turns and one right, we made our way back into the light again.
I squinted. How long had it been since I’d seen the unfiltered sun?
Beside me, I felt Ladon turn to stone. As my eyes adjusted, I realized where we’d been taken—the hedge maze.
We were standing on top of the platform where I’d first met Reyna. My blood turned to ice coursing through my veins. It was as if a shadow of the poison I’d once been infected with still flowed freely beneath my skin.
“You’ll be trimming the hedges today,” Tristan stated. He then conjured two very dull shears and handed them to Ladon and I. He took a seat on the platform and stretched his legs out in front of him, staring at us expectantly.
We’d likely be here for a while.
Ladon led the way down the steps and into the path we’d once ran through. It was hard not to think of that day, though it didn’t look as if anyone had cared for the hedges since our arrival. They were overgrown and thick roots erupted through the dirt, forcing us to watch our step.
“Do you think we can make a run for it?” I asked beneath my breath.
Ladon pursed his lips. “I doubt it.”
The thought of bolting through the hedges was so tempting, but I knew he was right. Tristan would stop us in a heartbeat and the punishment that followed would be unbearable. I winced as I recalled the pain of Vessina plunging her fangs into my body.
As we plunged into work, sharp thorns sliced at our hands and arms. Each time I reached for an out-of-place branch, another rip in my skin appeared. Of course, Tristan hadn’t bothered to give us gardening gloves. By midday, my hands were a mangled mess.
We were allowed a break for lunch, during which I painfully held a sandwich to my mouth.
“Here, let me see.” Ladon set his sandwich down and pulled my wrists towards him. I winced at the sharp pain. Dark red mingled with the black tattoos. His own hands were scraped as well, but he hid his discomfort better than I could.
After examining them for a moment, his lip turned up in a grin. “You’ll live.”
I rolled my eyes. But then he was tearing at the sleeve of his shirt, making thin strips. He tipped his water canteen, rinsing my cuts while I hissed. He worked diligently, wrapping my hands with the torn pieces of his sleeve until they were completely bandaged.
“Thank you,” I said quietly. “Would you like for me to do yours?”
“That’s okay.”
He simply rinsed his hands and flicked the excess water off. Without his sleeve, I was able to watch his muscles ripple with each movement. Such strength and power…
I diverted my eyes and quickly finished my sandwich. The wrapping helped immensely, but by the end of the day, even they were torn to ribbons, too.
