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“I’m even more sorry that I had to interrupt, now that I know you two were flirting. He moved fast when he came back to the castle. Guess he figured out who the coward had been.”

Ouch. “We’re getting to know each other.”

“I’ll just bet you are. If Belaya hadn’t gone batty last night, perhaps I would’ve found a juicier piece of gossip than some art supplies when I came to check on you this morning.”

I hide my face beneath the water, not wanting her to tell the entire staff that she caught me blushing. Leander’s a minotaur and huge and… I’m so damn curious about him that I could pry answers out of Bess until I see him again and still have more questions.

Lust curls in my belly, and the part of me that feels shame over wanting to experience pleasure outside the norm? I shut that piece of my brain right up. That’s my ex-boyfriend-fueled humiliation talking, and I deserve better. Leander won’t hurt me. He needs me to want him for the sake of his realm.

Besides, what happens in the labyrinth stays in the labyrinth, right?

Stepping out of the shower, I clear my throat, not wanting to share any of those thoughts with Bess. “How is Belaya? Better, I hope.”

“Now you didn’t hear it from me…”

Ooh, the best opening for a line of gossip. “Hear what?” I respond obligingly.

“The whole episode with Belaya last night wouldn’t have happened if that silly goose of a nurse—”

I interrupt because I’ve learned to ask for details in this castle. “Is that a cute saying, or is the nurse an actual goose?”

“Goose shifter, but the fool woman honks in every form. So annoying. Anyway, her nurse likes to take a nip of booze now and then while she’s on the job. Well, last night she must’ve drunk the whole damn bottle. We found her passed out in the tower workshop. No wonder Belaya wandered the halls like a lost duckling.”

I don’t ask about her mixed farm animal metaphors. For all I know, there are crossbreeds of blue-skinned duck shifters. “Why does Belaya live in a tower? That seems kind of mean.” Very let’s stick the crazy lady in the attic level of gothic.

“Because she asked the king for the tower, and he gave it to her. Might’ve been pity. More likely, it’s out of sight, out of mind. She unnerves him. Not that he would admit to it.”

“Like I did when I screamed?”

Bess dresses me in quick movements. “You terrified the king because he wants you too badly. Belaya reminds him of what could happen if our world loses all its magic.”

“He said she was the only one who survived in her realm.”

“She had great powers, as our king does.” She braids a strip of my hair into a crown. “He would be the last to fall if our world were to collapse—which it won’t because you’re here.”

Nervous energy buzzes in my belly. Again, no pressure. Have sex with their minotaur king. Save the world. Just another Thursday for a girl like me. Or whatever day it might be back home.

I smooth a shaking hand along the whisper-soft silk of the dress, marveling in the wrap that lifts and supports my breasts without pinching or digging. No squashing into uncomfortable undergarments here. Bess explained that the ancients honored women with curves and rolls like me as a sign of wealth and blessing. With a waggle of her brows, she’d said they knew how to show off the body just as they’d celebrated sex more than most of the civilizations since.

She weaves snippets of fragrant herbs with white flowers into my braid. “Belaya has a view of the entire maze from her workshop. The only one in the kingdom.”

“Is it all stone and earth like the walls of the castle? And do they move as well?” The moving bits of the castle had scared me at first, but I’d gotten used to the changing pathways.

“They do. Only the king controls the maze. He can change the pattern at will. Much like his return home had the castle walls moving last night. It’s how we knew he’d made it back early. Oh goodness.” She stops futzing with my hair and shoves a wad of rosemary in her mouth. “I should’ve come back for you last night. With the hallways shifting, you must’ve gotten so lost—”

“Don’t worry. Darnell found me, and we figured out the way together.” Weird that the warlock had shown up in a dead-end hallway, but it’d been lucky for me. I would’ve wandered for hours with the way passages opened and closed, as if the castle had grown bored with its look.

Bess hates whenever I mention Darnell, but at least she stops eating plants. “Hmph, that warlock always sniffs you out. You would think you were his match and not the king’s.”

“It’s not like that. He wants someone new to tell his stories to. That’s all.” The man doesn’t shut up. As much as Bess talks about everyone else, Darnell loves to chat about himself. I could recite his dull history in the human world from memory at this point. A different suspicion from the one Bess had nags at me. “How does Leander feel about someone having a complete view of the labyrinth when he uses the maze for security?”

“Not much either the goose or her patient could do with the information. Besides, Belaya can’t spell up a basic blessing, let alone remember an ever-changing maze. Now, the warlock? I wouldn’t trust him farther than I could toss him out of that tower window.” Bess fastens a necklace around my throat with a heavy stone that looks like a real emerald and feels cool against my skin. “There. You are perfection.”

“I’ll need an apron to play with my art supplies without ruining this dress.” Excitement ripples through me at the new additions to the game I can create.

“While you’re at the market, I’ll have one sent up. Oh!” She stops and bristles, the fur covering the cow bits of her standing on end. I’m wondering if that’s a good thing or her shifter warning, danger alert system. “I have the best idea,” she says. “We servants commissioned a new piece of armor for his birthday, but we have plenty of time to order something else. You should present it to him. It’ll be exactly the right gift to put you ahead in the competition.”

The idea of taking anything that the servants have contributed to bothers me. Leander’s people work so hard without complaint. They should take all the credit for a commissioned piece. “I don’t know—”

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