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Danny, crammed on the wagon seat between Archer and Mother, squirmed so much that he popped off the seat. He quickly slithered onto Mother’s lap.
“You’re too heavy,” she protested, wrapping both arms around his middle.
At their displays of affection, I felt both warm and empty, somewhat like a teakettle freshly divested of its contents. He ate up her affection, as any son would, and his smile always made me smile in return. It also showed me something I’d never known and would never know.
Archer, of late grown too observant for a young man, cleared his throat in that pointed way he did when he saw something in the world he thought was unjust. Mother, of course, missed it entirely. A lawman could hand her a notice with her crimes emblazoned on it and she would accept it with a smile and a nod and complete dismissal. Willing blindness was her strongest attribute.
The wagon jostled our shoulders and knees together.
“My, the king must send his architects soon, or this road will wash clean into the Imperial Forest,” Mother commented as she nearly toppled sideways with Danny.
Our family wagon trundled along the twin grooves in the path toward the high town—the king’s town. It wasn’t far, but the road between Varich to Westburg encountered heavy rains this time of year and was in serious need of a Guild architect—someone with constructive magic—to come and smooth things over.
“The architects don’t come until the end of summer,” I said. “As always,” I added under my breath at my mother’s sniff of disapproval. In the kingdom of Bevon, the Guilds were nearly worshipped for the help they could give to our society. The problem was, they didn’t give their help unless the king expressly allowed it, thanks in part to his fear of anyone being praised but himself.
Up ahead, the bridge that marked Silver Creek rolled into view.
Danny scrambled to put his feet in Mother’s lap, but he didn’t fit anymore. Archer scoffed and rolled his eyes. Danny might be too old to sit in Mother’s lap, but Mother still thought of him as her little boy, and her affection for him had only grown steadily stronger since an illness three years ago had nearly taken him.
“Nothing’s going to crawl out of the water and eat you,” Archer said, jabbing Danny with an elbow.
Danny stiffened, then slowly let his legs back down. Tears welled up in his brown eyes.
“You’re crying. Again.” Archer heaved a sigh and looked at me, shaking his head.
I shot him a look of silent reproof. Danny had been scared of Silver Creek for years, and it was all Archer’s fault. Every time we crossed this bridge, his childhood fears resurfaced, the clock seemed to rewind, and Danny turned back into a four-year-old boy.
A boy who didn’t know how to swim.
A boy who believed every fairy tale he’d ever heard.
When Archer had pushed Danny into the creek, telling him the Labyrinth monsters swam through its shallow depths and feasted on lost boys, it had cemented in my youngest brother a perpetual fear of all water.
After that, I’d never let Danny go with Archer into the Imperial Forest—the home of the Labyrinth and Silver Creek. I’d stayed with them. Always. Until now. Now I was leaving them.
I stared at Archer. He’d grown taller, but that didn’t mean he was ready to take care of Danny in all the ways Danny needed. Archer read my expression and rolled his eyes. He chewed his lower lip, peering down at the creek as it rolled underneath us, as if to say, Look, I’m not teasing him now.
The glittering water appeared innocent, almost happy, burbling along its merry way. But it flowed from the Labyrinth, and its waters provided fodder for myths and nightmares alike. No one drew water from this creek, and farmers refused to let their animals drink from its cool pools. This was cursed water, touched by the madness of the Labyrinth, a prison crafted to contain history’s most wicked mage, the one who nearly tore the kingdom apart in his attempt to take the throne for his own. He’d craved power and stolen it with his mind, showing the world what mind magic was truly capable of.
Despite his bravado, Archer turned his head to watch the creek disappear from view behind us as the road curved. He caught me watching him.
“I mean, how does it flow out, but nothing else can?” Archer shook his head, launching into his favorite topic. “If the water can get out, the things inside should also be able to. It doesn’t make sense.”
“It was built by magic,” I countered, which dismissed the Labyrinth from obeying logic or natural laws.
“It isn’t safe,” Danny added.
Archer bumped his brother’s shoulder. “The monsters can swim out. They do it every night.”
“You just said nothing else can get out!” Danny shoved him back.
“Stop it, you two.” I grabbed Danny’s hands before he could claw at Archer’s face.
“Not the eyes! Fates, Dan!” Archer shoved us both off.
Meanwhile, Mother sat silent, watching the forest roll by as if she were alone in this trundling carriage.
Danny tucked his hands between his legs and hung his head low. Shame, surging up like the geysers down in the valley, always followed when Archer used that tone with him.
