I peer to my right. The glacial tunnel leading into the labyrinth is as dark as a Cyclops’s heart. Griffin hands me the second, unlit torch, and I slip it into a loosened dagger loop in my belt.
In turn, I hand Griffin Ariadne’s Thread. He holds the silvery ball of twine while Carver ties the loose end around my wrist, tugging hard on the knot to make sure it’s secure.
Griffin rechecks it, twice, his expression grim. “Remember what the wizard said.”
“Only Kato and I go in. Beware Atalanta’s bow. Find the lyre before the three-headed beast. Heed the Goddess’s needs.”
His eyes bore into mine, dark and troubled. “I don’t like being separated.”
My chest contracts painfully as I lean into him. “I know.”
“Don’t you dare cut this thread.” Griffin’s arms clamp around me, hard as rocks. “If you do, I swear to the Gods I’ll come in there, find you, and give you a spanking you’ll never forget.”
A shaky laugh explodes from my lungs. “I find that a lot more tempting than I probably should.”
Griffin squeezes me. “Come back to me. Don’t do anything foolish.”
Me? “I’m never foolish.”
He grips me until my bones creak.
“I’ll be careful,” I promise.
Griffin eases his hold, pressing his lips to the top of my head and inhaling deeply. When he lets me go and offers his hand to Kato, the other man shakes it, absorbing Griffin’s long, hard look with a solemn nod. The silent communication has “protect her with your life and then some” written all over it. A few weeks ago, I would have dismissed it as a lot of overprotective male posturing. Now, I only wish I could convince them that dying for me is not an option.
As Kato and I enter the labyrinth, I have to convince myself to put one foot in front of the other. About thirty feet in, just before the tunnel curves to the right, I stop and look back even though every instinct tells me not to.
My heart seizes, tumbling painfully at the sight of Griffin. Ariadne’s Thread trails from his tightly fisted hand. His big frame is taut and still with the kind of coiled tension that hovers on the brink of explosion, as if he’s barely restraining himself from coming in after me.
Our eyes collide across the frost-blanketed entrance of the cave. “I swear I’ll cut this thread, drop it, and leave it behind me if any one of you steps past this point in the tunnel before we’re back.” The vow jolts through me, sealing itself in my skin, my blood, and my bones.
Griffin’s face twists. He curses violently.
Fighting the burning rawness inside of me, I say, “You can take shelter in the cave’s entrance, but if you come after us, I’ll be physically compelled to cut the rope and not pick it up again.” The magical chain reaction will hit me no matter where I am, not leaving me any choice.
“I release you from your vow,” Griffin says.
“It’s not a vow to you, it’s a vow to myself. You can’t release me.”
“Cat. Be reasonable. What if—”
“Just wait for us,” I call. “We’ll be back.”
My pulse thuds wildly as I back away under Griffin’s livid stare. A muscle jerks in his cheek, ticking hard enough to send a ripple through his beard. His eyes blaze, and my heart wrenches as I turn away.
“Cat!” he roars.
I turn the corner without looking back. My eyes burn, and every shallow, quick breath shudders in my throat.
Kato waits until the light from the cave’s entrance fades entirely before asking gruffly, “Are you all right?”
I sniff and press my chilled fingertips to my stinging eyes, stemming the hot prickle of tears. “No.”
He doesn’t try to talk to me again, which is for the best.
With only the light of the torch and the dim glow from our cloaks, we wind our way deeper into the labyrinth, ducking pointy icicles and slipping on mirror-smooth patches of ice. When the tunnel splits into three branches, we peer into the darkness. Which reveals nothing. Because it’s dark.
“What do you think?” I ask, my voice rough from disuse and swallowing tears.
Kato lowers the torch, scanning the tunnel floor for footprints or signs of passage. There are none. The ice is even and unmarked underfoot, and so cold that the chill is already seeping through my thick-soled boots.
He shrugs. “Straight?”
After that, there are so many offshoots that we simply take turns deciding which way to go. Twice, we stumble back onto Ariadne’s Thread and know we’ve gone in circles. We’re debating whether or not to backtrack while picking up the thread when a dim light beckons us from a distant tunnel on the right.