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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.
He told me the truth, at least partially, but the maze doesn't share good memories. It shares whatever baggage you take with you.
I've not even put one foot on the ground before Grandma Lyn appears, weeping and heartbroken.
Alva sniffles and shakes her head next to her. Khel averts his eyes, too disappointed to look straight at me. And the poor boy whose name I can't even remember sits, head bowed in despair.
I approach Lyn tentatively, seriously hoping I’m not wrong. "I know what you are."
There were cues all along, but the biggest one was the voice I heard around Tryn—the girl who'd teased him about brooding just as much as Zale.
Everything I miss. Everything I desire. Everything I can't let go of.
Grandma Lyn's face ripples like water under the weight of a pebble and she morphs into an exact copy of myself, though she's wearing black gear and a hood low on her head.
My past smiles back at me and disappears. The boy stands up and a red ball appears in his hand. He bounces it on the ground, laughing as he vanishes behind a wall.
Alva and Khel start to bicker over the best place to get a pint of ale. "Come on, Hel. Let's go for a drink. You can be the designated sober idiot."
Khel shakes his head, exasperated with her, as they fade away.
Grandma Lyn's voice is the last thing I hear before the lane vanishes, giving way to the silvery walls.
"Leaving won't turn you into your mother. Nothing could. Let yourself move on, and the sky's the limit."
She's not real. Grandma Lyn has never said that to me, because she could never have seen where I would be after her death. She's an echo, just like Tryn. A ghost created by all of my memories of her. But I know without any doubt that if she'd been here right now, she would have said the exact same thing.
I cross the lane and breathe out, bracing myself. Strange that his nightmare of a maze wasn't as daunting as the prospect of returning to his court.
I push against the black gates.
* * *
Cheers erupt all around me, and unfamiliar arms wrap around mine, squeezing hard.
I freeze, unaccustomed to such enthusiasm, let alone from strangers. By the time the hugger withdraws, I see it's a warm-skinned girl in brown servant garb.
She isn't the only one: almost all of the crowd gathered here is too tanned and pink for the coldblood court.
Neleda and her husband fight their way to me.
"Bloody brilliant, that was," the duke says, stunned. "Not since the days of Tryn has anyone but a Duval walked through the maze without losing their mind. My daughter, the hero," he calls, encouraging the cheers.
I grimace at his effusion. "I'm just…highly logical?"
I can't really understand how no one figured out how to get out.
My mother grins proudly, and I don't bother to roll my eyes.
The servants scamper, but a number of common courtiers and even some halfbloods trail us, still cheering, acclaiming my accomplishment. I can't say I mind. In fact, I would much prefer remaining right here with these strangers rather than returning to the great hall, but I let the duke drag me back up the stairs.
Time to face Zale Devar.
This round is mine, but he's not likely to accept my victory and let me get out of here unscathed.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
DANCE OF SNAKES
