Page 76 of The Labyrinth and the Threaded Daughter

Behind her, as if guarding her emotions, came the Minotaur. It followed its sister, the massive body carefully keeping step with her.

A collective gasp swept the hall, and he wasn’t sure if the sound was from the sight of Ariadne, the Minotaur, or both of them.

“You heard,” Corin breathed as soon as she came close enough to hear him.

She stopped at the threshold, eyes locking onto him. The distance between them was only a few steps now, yet it might as well have been a chasm.

His fingers itched. He wanted to reach out to touch her so badly. It wouldn’t take many steps to do so. But he stopped himself. She had to accept this just as he had.

Ariadne glanced behind Corin to see all the people gathered to watch them. “This is not…” she began, then faltered. She cast her gaze back to the new king. “It does not do this.”

“I know.”

She blinked. “I thought… maybe you… maybe you died. And there was a new heir.”

Corin was sure, if her feelings for him were as strong as his for her, that the idea he was dead would have been crushing. He couldn’t imagine what she had felt, what she was feeling at that realization.

“I’m here,” Corin said, confidence and hope seeping into his voice.

She hesitated, watching him closely as neither of them spoke for a long moment.

So Corin took a step closer, careful not to cross the boundary yet. “It will stay open. I swear it.”

Ariadne blinked. “It will?”

“I came back for you—just like I said I would.”

Her gaze flickered past him, to the expectant crowd behind him. To the priests. To the world she hadn’t been allowed to touch in centuries. “So you did.”

Corin smiled softly. “So come with me.”

She paused again, pulling at her fingers a few times. “I do not know if I can,” she admitted with a whisper.

“I do,” he said. “And I won’t leave without you.”

Once again, she hesitated, anguish written plainly across her face.

Corin thought for a second, just a small second, that this was right. That this was his choice. That he wasn’t choosing her over the crown, but that this was him choosing her. The crown was going to be there for him no matter what.

Before anyone could stop him, Corin stepped forward. Once again stepping into the Labyrinth.

Shouts erupted behind him. Someone—a priest, likely, grabbed at his sleeve and missed. Warnings rang out, sharp and panicked.

The Minotaur growled. It wasn’t as deep as he was used to hearing from the beast, but a warning all the same. Corin cast his eyes towards the monster and offered it a shaky grin. “I do not wish to harm you.” Then his eyes met Ariadne again. “Either of you.”

“What are you doing?” Ariadne rushed out. She was staring at him with wide eyes.

He tilted his head as his grin widened. It was a soft grin, but one full of certainty. “I am ending it.”

The maze hummed around them then, alive and watchful. Corin drew in a steady breath and spoke clearly, deliberately.

“Ariadne.”

The sound of her name ripped through the Labyrinth like a stone dropped into still water. Light surged through the veins, brighter than before, but there was no recoil. No rumbling of stone. No sense of warning or punishment or fury.

Only acceptance.

She gasped, a hand flying to her chest. The maze did not resist her. It did not tighten or close or rage.