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The maze isn't done with its tricks yet.
Zale appears in front of me, smirking as usual, though instead of being almost white, his hair's black and his eyes, amber. His skin seems warm and inviting to the touch.
As much as I hate, hate, hate the boy I know, this one makes my heartbeat skip and my skin flush.
This perhaps is the worst trick the maze threw at me.
"Keep dreaming, asshole."
He laughs, folding in two.
"Ah. That mouth on you. You'll do quite well here. The north is harsh and need resilient souls." The strange, cordial Zale throws his hands in his pocket, as he usually does, and extends his hand to mine.
I stare at it like it might bite me. "I'm good, thanks."
He rolls his eyes. "Gosh, you're a hard nut. Go on by yourself if you must. You'll find the jewels at the base of the tree. Take whatever you'd like, as the boy offered."
"The boy," I repeat. "Don't you mean you?"
Zale wrinkles his nose. "By all hells, no. I'm not nearly as broody."
"You are," a singsong feminine voice laughs, though I can't tell where it comes from, and I certainly can't see anyone else in the plain.
"Am not." Zale stomps his foot and laughs, more openly than I'd ever thought possible.
I'm so glad I haven't met this version of him. He's the kind of man women lose their minds for, and he'd happily chuckle while eating their beating hearts.
"What are you?" I asked, confused and wary.
I should have returned directly to the door.
"A memory, if you will. This place was built to preserve long-lost echoes, so that I could remember the good days, after losing so many of my loved ones." His face falls, shedding all humor, and I want to run at what I see.
He's the shade inside Zale, the nightmare everyone ought to fear.
"Over time, after I was gone, my spell decayed and became this perverse thing very few people can withstand." He licks his lip. "No one, in fact, until you. I am glad to have met you, Helyn. You give an old soul hope for his kingdom."
Old.
This boy looks every bit like Zale, his features all the same, just in darker shades, but their feel is completely different. I finally understand I'm not looking at the current king of Ravelyn.
"You're Tryn. Tryn Du Var."
He grimaces. "Duval, please. My mother was a weak fool who disowned and banished me the moment she realized I was more powerful than she."
Tryn Duval. The monster who conquered two islands of powerful misfits, and the high fae queen of crows. The first king of Ravelyn. "So you…condensed her name? Way to be rebellious."
“Ha!” I’ve never seen a smile so genuine on Zale’s face. I’m disturbed by how attractive that makes him. “You're one to talk,Hel.”
A chuckle crawls up in spite of myself. "Point taken. You're just supposed to be smarter than me. You're a great king."
He shrugs. “Hardly. I was twenty, and my choices were conquer or die. I merely opted for the path that kept my head upon my neck. History has a way of embellishing everything.”
His apparent humility disarms me. “Aren't you the son of the god king of shade?"
He’s supposed to be greater, wilder, and certainly more evil.
Tryn grins. "I like you." He tilts his chin forward, to the willow tree. "Take the dagger. It'll serve you better than any crown."
