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“You don’t have churches or temples here?”
“We have a temple,” I admit. “I recreated it to match the ones in your world where virgin sacrifices were brought.”
“I thought you said those sacrifices weren’t killed.” She sounds horrified.
“They weren’t. Sex was the sacrifice. Why do you think the old civilizations offered up virgins or the most beautiful women to minotaurs and other monsters? Even if—gods willing—it was consensual and freely volunteered, the giving still constitutes a sacrifice.”
“Oh.” She goes quiet for a moment. “Why do you have your own temple here in the maze?”
Embarrassment has me clearing my throat. “I used the limited knowledge I had of the world to build the maze that keeps us safe. When I brought the first shifters here for sanctuary, they worshipped me like a god.” Some still do. “Having an altar gave them a place to bring offerings.”
“Offerings as in women?”
“You’re the only woman in my life.” I shoot her a stop provoking me look. “My people brought goods like you saw at the market—tapestries, creams, oils. Things I could imbue with magic and offer to the trader demons from other realms in exchange for food and supplies that we needed.”
“You’ve been sending things to the topside this whole time? To think none of us knows about your worlds.” She traces a shape on my shoulder.
“Some do. Once, all of you believed in gods and monsters. Humans losing their faith in magic? It’s what sent so many of the old beings into hiding or extended slumber.”
“There are more of you?”
“Minotaurs? Sure. Or there were once.” I don’t like to think of the possibilities of others still being trapped in their maze prisons.
She stops talking. I wonder if she has fallen asleep when she says, “What happened today at the market?”
My heart thuds so loud against her cheek that she must notice. I could lie. I should, if I want her to stay despite Theo’s pressure for her to leave. But lying to her doesn’t feel right. Mates protect. As I tried to do when the ground split and swallowed her, I must protect her at the expense of all else. Even at the risk of my kingdom if she decides to leave.
“My magic fell.” I remember the taste in the air at the moment the world rumbled, the same basic flavor of the powers I’ve used for centuries—only off, bitter, rancid. “No, that’s not right. It went bad.” The truth hurts, a violent ache that twists my gut and burns in my chest. Gods, after this long living with my powers, I hadn’t thought they could morph into a weapon against me, against my realm, against Meg. “My magic turned against me.”
She looks up at me, her gaze serious and searching. “Did it? Or did someone turn your magic against us?”
14
LEANDER
“Oh no, Leander, you chopped off his head!” Meg’s laughter fills the paint-scented space, and I want to bask in it like it’s the sunshine from her world. “We can’t have a headless orc on the game board.”
“Why not?” I ask, not wanting to admit that I’ve maimed yet another of her pieces. Watching her create soothes me. It’s why I hulk in one of the few shifter-sized chairs that will fit under the table she’s using as a workbench in her room. “Besides, decapitating it saves you having to make the tusks.”
“I like carving the tusks.” She plucks the now demolished piece out of my hand. “What has you distracted?” With a narrowed gaze, she pins me in place as well as she might one of her battle-ready dragonfly characters. “And don’t say I am the reason this time.”
“You are. Plus, my massive hands aren’t made for detail work. My fingers dwarf your miniatures.”
She shakes her head, and a curl escapes the hairstyle she calls a messy bun to fall in her face. “You’ve played that excuse already, and I’ve seen you handle blades and thread at the market that required more dexterity. What’s on your mind?”
“I can’t stop thinking about last night.”
“Me neither.” She cocks an eyebrow that makes me want to kiss her again. “Or this morning.”
“True.” Making my mate come on my tongue has become my new favorite way to spend time. “I regret I got called away to tend to castle business, but I needed to approve the orders for the next trans-dimensional shipment.” If she would agree to stay after the matching contract ends, I would bargain for enough art supplies from her world to fill this room—or hell, the entire castle—to keep her happy.
“Spending time in bed with me better not have been what you were thinking about when you decapitated the poor defenseless orc with that scowl.” She resumes painting a piece as if discussing my problems should be our normal.
But if I can’t share my troubles with my mate, then I can’t trust them with anyone. Besides, she’s the one who sparked my suspicions about my realm, my people, the eroding foundations of my magic. “What if you’re right and someone is using my powers, not just against me, but against us?”
“It’s a theory, not a proven point.”
“I can’t stand to think that someone to whom I’ve granted sanctuary has turned against me. Or worse, could try to kill you. They would have to know I would annihilate anyone who even thought about hurting you.” A deep rage steals my breath, bringing a rush of magic to the surface. More magic than I could’ve called before my mate allowed me to give her pleasure. I force it down, unwilling to scare her or destroy more of her art.
