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My chest hollowed as I waited for him to speak. He’d made it clear he wouldn’t stick around just for me, and yet here he stood.
He carefully rolled both sleeves back up to his elbows. “You’re not bad at magic if you can do that.”
I shook my head. “I’ve never been able to do magic like that. I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true. I’ve gotten so used to being mocked for my faulty magic that I can’t even believe you’re complimenting me right now.” I lifted my arms. “It feels like you’re mocking me.”
Ash stepped forward, no longer trying to keep his movements quiet. I staggered to my feet and backed up.
“You destroyed that beast. That’s not something most mages can do.”
My heel knocked into a wall that hadn’t been there a moment ago. I let out a small, "Oh."
Ash’s eyes traced the wall in both directions, as if puzzled by its appearance as well. “This place is on to you,” he muttered, almost growling. “It’s not going to stop until you’re…” His words stopped, and he ran both hands through his hair, distracting me with a view of his strong arms. “I can’t let this place destroy you.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting.
My recent encounter with the minotaur had left me shaken, and now this. My mouth hung open, words vanishing in my throat before I could voice them.
“And believe me, it would be better for me if I could,” Ash continued. His dark eyes reflected the glowing mist, which painted his face with a ghostly silver hue. “You’re the only person in this maze who knows who I really am. I assumed you would hate me for who I am, but instead you wanted to get to know me.” He smirked. “In eighty years, of all the people who’ve learned who I am, you’re the only one who hasn’t run away or tried to kill me, and I can’t let you die.”
I had hated him, at first, assuming I knew all there was to know about Henry Asher. I still wanted to know the truth about the war, but his words rocked me, and I was unable to speak for several seconds.
Finally, my words surfaced, and I asked the one thing that felt safest. “Was that beast only a spell?”
Ash’s cheekbones cast deep shadows as he peered down at me. “Yes and no. It had flesh and bone. But everything in this maze was put here by magic and is sustained by magic. You broke the enchantment that created that monster.” He rubbed his neck as if his recent encounter with the tree had left him in pain. “How were you not afraid?”
My blistered feet were throbbing again, and I tried to find the door in my mind where I locked away unpleasant things. I’d inadvertently let the door burst open in the shock of watching the monster vanish, and all my fears had returned. Including the fear of having to watch Ash leave again.
“I shut my fear away. In a little room.”
Ash’s hands reached for my face so fast I cringed. But his warm, calloused palms held me firmly but gently. I was forced to return his searching stare.
“You shouldn’t do that,” he warned, eyes wide with worry.
“It’s the only way I was calm enough to fight.”
His breaths hit my cheeks, and I tingled all over. Then his hands fell away. “I think, Vera Rivers, that you are not at all what you’ve believed your entire life.”
As if this place was designed to destroy everything I believed possible, he dropped to his knees and slipped one hand under the hem of my dress to wrap his fingers around my ankle.
I gulped in a breath so violently that I coughed to recover.
“You’ve been closing off your pain, too, haven’t you? It’s your feet, isn’t it?”
He lifted my foot, and I lost my balance, my arm shooting out for anything that could steady me. I grabbed a fistful of his hair.
His head jerked up and his eyes met mine.
I loosened my grip but kept my hand on his head, feeling like I might crumple to the forest floor without something to steady me. His eyes blazed, and he didn’t look away for an eternal second. Then he slipped off the too-large boot and bent lower to examine the bleeding blisters on my foot. His thumb caressed the skin beside the wound, sending little tingles of warmth through my veins.
My balance now restored, I loosened my fingers and slid them reluctantly out of his hair.
“You don’t have to let go,” he said, his eyes still down.
I imagined he could feel my pulse hammering under my skin. Although I dreamed of sliding my fingers back into his hair, I tucked my hand carefully against my side instead.
“Still afraid to touch me?” he asked, voice gravelly.
To prove that I wasn’t, I slid one hand slowly into his hair. His eyes drifted closed and I nearly lost my ability to breathe.
