Page 12 of The Labyrinth and the Threaded Daughter

Corin wasn’t sure what to make of that, and he didn’t want to spend too much time deciphering the man.

Instead, he ventured further into the chamber. There was a small make-shift bed in the corner, and just seeing it made Corin’s body ache horribly. He hadn’t realized how tired his body was until seeing something that even moderately resembled comfort.

Taleon bent to retrieve a cracked bowl from the floor, setting it back where it seemingly belonged on the edge of the chamber with a bright grin. As he straightened, his gaze flickered suddenly to the far side of the chamber.

He went very still. His smile fell.

Bristle froze mid-chew, ears pricking.

Corin stopped in his step, only a few paces away from the comfort he desired.

“Oh,” Taleon said softly with something like reverence in his tone. “She is awake much earlier than I counted.”

V

She did not step forward, not immediately. She did not speak either.

She just watched.

It was a woman, standing on the threshold, her figure outlined faintly by the golden veins in the stone. Her hair fell in dark and unbound curls over her shoulders, as if it was styled beautifully once before but had faded through time. Her expression was distant and unreadable, eyes fixed not on Corin but on Taleon.

It almost felt like the Labyrinth was holding its breath as the three stood and watched each other.

She was half-shadowed by the narrow doorway, only just barely illuminated by the golden glow that traced her thin silhouette. Still, with only seeing bits of her, he believed she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

Corin inhaled sharply, and her eyes shifted onto him in an instant. He could feel the intensity of her gaze baring onto him with the calm, assessing stillness of someone long accustomed to being unseen.

He shifted his weight uneasily. “You… who are you?” The question sounded inadequate the moment it left his lips.

Her gaze flicked briefly to Taleon again.

“She watches,” Taleon answered happily. He hopped onto his uninjured foot a few times before shuddering and sitting down on a stone that nearly resembled a throne. “Most heirs do not get as close as you have. She likes the darkness. Darkness and cold air.”

Corin frowned. “Watches what?”

“You,” Taleon replied calmly as though he was tired of explaining. He rubbed at his twisted ankle. “All of you. Us, I suppose. As she should.”

The woman’s eyes truly beat into Corin then, and he felt as though she was trying to impose some information into him through her gaze alone.

He studied her. She was very thin and pale, as if the Labyrinth had taken most of her color many years ago. The only bright aspect of her was the dark tumbling waves in her hair and the rosy tinge on her cheeks that he could just make out through the darkness.

Taleon cut his head towards the woman. “I think you may like this one, Threaded Daughter.”

“Threaded Daughter?” Corin muttered.

The woman tilted her head to the side, eyes narrowed in on the young heir. She murmured something low, causing Taleon to chuckle loudly.

“He can hear!”

She rolled her eyes this time. She cleared her throat lowly before opening her mouth to speak. “I have watched. From afar.” Her voice was steady, sweet and rising but flat, a deliberate lowness in tone echoing across the chamber. “It is safer that way.”

The way her words rushed over Corin captured his body in a chokehold. They clung to him, wrapping around his neck tightly before washing over the rest of him. It was… tantalizing.

He could have listened to her words for hours, felt the way they sank into his skin, without ever growing tired of them. He wished to hear them again, even softly, to have them wash over him repeatedly. So badly that he had to pinch his arm to drag himself out of the trance.

“For whom?” Corin croaked.

Something unreadable crossed her face. “Everyone.”