Page 13 of The Labyrinth and the Threaded Daughter

Bristle trotted forward then, nails clicking eagerly, and promptly dropped his chewed bone at her feet. He sat, his tail wagging furiously as if they were old friends.

She looked down at the offering. “No.”

Even that small word fell on Corin’s ears like a blessing. He was sure this woman had to have been a siren of some sort, luring him into a false sense of safety with her beautiful words. He wished that she would emerge from the darkness, greet him fully in the dim torchlight of the chamber, just so he could see the beauty that was lying in the shadows. Just for a moment—that was all he needed.

Bristle whined, and the sound reminded Corin of where he was. Despite it, he released a surprised breath of laughter before he could stop himself. The sound echoed oddly through the chamber, too bright for the stone.

Taleon glanced at him, startled, then grinned. “Oh how new! How joyous!” he shook his head “It usually takes longer for the laughter.”

The woman’s gaze snapped back to Corin, sharp and cruel. “You should not laugh here, heir.”

“Sorry,” Corin corrected quickly. “It just–” He gestured helplessly at the creature as a new heat washed over him. “He’s not what I expected. I have never seen a… being such as him.”

“Neither are you,” she replied.

Silence settled again, thick and listening.

Corin watched her for another moment. There was something about her in the way the Labyrinth seemed to lean toward her, just as he was. The stone brightened around her, more so than elsewhere in the halls. Corin could have sworn the Labyrinth was acknowledging her, introducing the two to each other in a way that seemed to force the union.

“You’re important,” Corin said slowly. “Aren’t you?”

Taleon released his ankle. “Do you not… wrong question. Again. Wrong, wrong, wrong. You know her name. We all do. You know she leads the way.”

“I do?” Corin wracked his brain but could not come up with a single thought about who she could be. He opened his mouth as a name came to mind, but… it couldn’t be.

She narrowed her eyes as she watched his mind work. “Do not guess. Names matter here,” she warned.

Corin glanced between the two. “Names?”

Somewhere far away in the maze, a wall of stone shifted, the echo gracing Corin’s ears lightly.

Taleon grimaced. “Yes, yes. You do not want to–”

The woman interrupted him, her voice fierce. “If you are clever, you will let the question die.”

Corin shot back.

The pieces were there. Legends half-remembered from his childhood lessons. A history he never paid enough attention to. A woman bound to the Labyrinth. A woman betrayed. A woman attached to a hero.

His mouth moved before caution could catch it. “Ariadne?”

The Labyrinth screamed.

Stone groaned violently, golden veins flaring blindingly bright as the chamber around them shuddered. Dust rained down from the ceiling in quick waves as the floor lurched beneath Corin’s feet. He caught himself on a large stone to the side of the chamber, steadying himself to ride out the quake.

Bristle yelped and scrambled back, knocking himself into Taleon and nearly falling apart with the action. Taleon, for his part, looked annoyed but steady as small pebbles rained down on him. He swayed with the vibrations as if used to their intrusions.

The woman—Ariadne—looked angry.

“Idiot,” Taleon hissed. “I told you–”

The woman raised one hand, and the Labyrinth seemed to listen. It froze.

Not stilled—restrained, like a beast held back by a thin leash but still waiting to strike. The light dimmed, the shaking slowed to a full halt. He could still feel the low hum of stone continuing to rebel angrily beneath his feet, but it was clear that whatever she did, the Labyrinth listened.

Her face went a ghostly shade of pale. “That,” she ground out, voice tight but controlled, “was your one warning, heir.”

Corin stared at her, heart hammering, and straightened himself. “My–what? I didn’t– Is that–” He swallowed hard. “Is that your name?”