Page 50 of The Labyrinth and the Threaded Daughter

Bristle and Ariadne seemed to handle the corridor with little problem, but Corin could not say the same for himself. He tripped a few times as the stone transformed from smooth and worn to jagged and raw. And as his steps continued to grow uneven, he wondered if this meant they were venturing deeper into the maze or closer to his exit.

He could feel her eyes on him many times, but every time he looked at her, she was conveniently looking at the stone around them, analyzing the veins in the walls, doing anything other than observing him.

He wished she would lay her eyes on him and never let go. He wished for her feelings to be as distracting for her as they were for him.

All he wanted to do was protect her, be with her, yet he knew that at the end of this, he would have to leave her. That thought alone pierced his heart more than any injury could.

“Where are we going?” he asked at last, breaking the steady rhythm of their footsteps.

Ariadne didn’t slow. “We will know it when we see it.”

Corin frowned. “That isn’t an answer.” He was growing tired of that response.

She glanced back at him, the barest hint of amusement touching her eyes. “It is the only honest one I have for you.”

“Do you know where we are, at least?”

“I think so.”

That didn’t help his nerves.

The dark pressed in closer, the golden veins long gone, leaving only the faintest ambient glow in their wake. It was just enough to keep him from walking straight into the walls, but Ariadne was navigating them quite well. She moved as if she could see through the darkness, as if there was no reason for light to grace the pair at all.

Time stretched strangely again. He couldn’t tell how long they had been moving since the mist and admissions, but his legs were starting to ache fiercely. The ambrosia had truly started to drain out of him, and he missed it dearly.

Eventually, Ariadne came to a stop, and Corin followed. Bristle nearly ran into his legs, stumbling slightly to the side to avoid a blow. The creature moved around the pair, sniffing the ground slightly before collapsing once again and nibbling on the same leg as earlier.

A low rise of stone jutted from the wall, and they stood there, side by side with their shoulders almost touching—only a small gap remained between them, and Corin’s body yearned to close it for a reason he couldn’t dive too deep into.

Corin rolled his neck to distract from the need coursing through him. “Why did we stop?”

“The Labyrinth is not ready for us yet,” she answered. “We shall take a break instead.”

“A break?”

Ariadne bobbed her head before sliding down to sit against the wall, stopping just beside Bristle. She reached out to settle a hand on the beast, who preened under the touch. “It is needed. You are growing tired.”

Corin blinked. “Well, yeah, I am, but I thought we could keep going.”

“Sit,” she advised, and he followed suit, albeit reluctantly. “The ambrosia has worn off for you. You should save some of your strength.”

“How do you know that?” he asked.

She shrugged. “I just know, heir.”

Ariadne saw so much that he couldn’t, understood things that only set out to confuse him.

If only she saw him like she saw the Labyrinth, he thought as he watched her stroke her fingernails down Bristle’s spine.

The monster grumbled in contentment before shooting up, spinning in place a few times, and diving head first into the stone, disappearing entirely.

Corin blinked a few times as he waited for the monster to come back. A few moments passed with no sign of it. “Where did it go?”

Ariadne shrugged with a small frown on her face. “It likes to travel.”

“Is it going to come back?”

“We can only wait and see.”