It’s his favorite: a forgotten prince, rescued by a clever knight. I’ve never asked if he imagines himself knight or prince, rescued or rescuer. But I’ve seen the pleased, secretive glow on his face when I tell stories that end with two boys falling in love. I know that some things are close kept, too precious to share.
“No.” He rubs tiredly at his cheek. “Tell me your favorite one instead.”
I wriggle closer to him and put my arm around his shoulders. The words of the story rise easily, making me feel warm and pleased as I speak them. “Beyond seven forests, beyond seven lakes, there was a labyrinth. Inside, there lived a monster. And one day, a brave maiden went in search of a wondrous treasure…”
I’ve loved this story for as long as I can remember. My parents would both tell it to me, over and over, as many times as I could convince them.
The labyrinth is deep beneath the earth, with walls that are made of trees. And at the center, a terrible monster sleeps on a bed made from bones. No one who enters has ever come out. But the maiden—when she goes inside—has a ball of twine hidden in her pocket. And as she walks, she unravels the twine behind her.
“The monster chased her, but she was fast. She followed the twine back through the trees…”
Arien smiles drowsily as I go on with the story. And for a moment it’s like we are back in the cottage, with the walls around us and the world far away. When it still felt almost safe, before everything changed.
Then I look past him. Across the room, Florence lies still, her breath drawn out in sleep. But the monster … he’s awake. Reflections of the flames dance in his eyes as he watches me. As he listens.
I cut off abruptly. When he realizes I’ve noticed him, he turns over swiftly and drags the blanket up around his shoulders. My cheeks burn. I feel peeled bare. Could he tell, from my voice, how I long to be as unafraid as the girl in the labyrinth? Does he know how much I wish I had my own safe path, clasped tight in my hands?
I stay close by Arien as he falls asleep. The door has been left open to let a breeze through the room, but the night air is dense, motionless. I look out through the doorway at the unmoving branches of the olive trees. Suddenly I’m aware of how quiet the room is, how still. The monster is a darkened shape, his breath slow and heavy.
“Arien.” I put my mouth against his ear. Shake him quietly awake. “We can’t stay here. We can’t stay with him.”
He stirs with a groan. I sit up slowly, hardly daring to breathe. Understanding lights his face as he looks toward the open door. We stand up. Each shuffle of cloth and creak of floorboards is endlessly loud. I keep my eyes pinned to the monster, but he doesn’t move.
On tiptoe, we cross the room. Outside the doorway, we pause. Arien spares the monster one wary glance, then nods at me, resolute. We run, together, into the barren, moonlit forest.
* * *
We run for a long time, on and on through the tight rows of the olive groves. I don’t know where we’re going, only away. I have to put as much distance between the monster and my brother as I can. I let the woods close round me, until finally the spindle-leafed branches part and give way to the wilder forest.
Arien stumbles as he tries to keep up with my swift pace. “Leta, why didn’t you run to the road?”
“He’d see us there. We can circle back once we’re out of the trees.”
My feet catch on a fallen branch, and I stumble forward. My knees hit the ground, and I’m stunned by the pain. I dig my fingers into the detritus of leaves beneath me and let out a frustrated hiss. “Ash. This damned forest.”
Arien crouches beside me, his frightened eyes shifting from ground to trees to sky. “Are you hurt?”
I stand up, groaning at how much I ache. “I’m fine.”
We go on. I keep my gaze fixed on the path ahead, searching for a way through the trees. Every now and then I pause, straining to listen, all my muscles wound up into an ever-tightening coil with each moment that passes. The woods are full of strange noises: night birds, the creak of wood, the rustle of leaves.
And beyond that—indistinct and angry—comes a voice. The monster, calling Arien’s name.
Behind me, Arien falters, staring back toward the sound. I pull at his arm. “Don’t stop!”
We go farther and farther. The forest is endless. Our breath becomes labored, and my lungs burn. The light starts to fade from gray, to soot, to pitch-black as the trees close in. Even the faint moonlight that illuminates the pale branches has gone.