Page 31 of The Lord of the Labyrinth

“Yes.”

“What did you see?”

He saw no reason not to tell her. “I was playing with my sister and my friend in the gardens when my mother came to greet me and my sister. I was but seven years old, and it’s one of my favorite memories.”

“Did you lose your mother too?” Kate asked.

It amazed him that she could deduce such a thing when she had no knowledge of his world.

“She did not die, if that is what you mean. Fae rarely do. But my mother could not stay. My father’s darkness was too great, even for her light. She journeyed into the mists of time. I may never see her again.”

“The mists of time? That sounds like a metaphor for death.” Her fingertips stopped moving in small patterns on his chest.

He shook his head. “Time can be distorted, even reshaped. Much like a summer storm, the boundaries of time can be charged with energy and become an actual storm. When such a storm ends, it will often leave a fading mist behind for a time. People who travel into it are often not seen again.”

He thought of the storm that had raged between her realm and his. How time had fought to claim Kate and take her away from him, and the tides of time had almost succeeded in pulling her out of his arms. Roan stroked a wet tendril of hair away from her face.

“Are you hurting anywhere else?”

She started to shake her head but then winced. “My stomach burns.”

How had he been so distracted by talking to her that he had forgotten the morgen’s slashes! Roan stood, Kate carefully held in his arms, and walked away from the pool. The sun had disappeared far beneath the walls of the labyrinth now, and he would claim his prize from her after he healed her.

The magic in his blood answered his call. At the nearest bend of the labyrinth, a bed grew out of the white ash trees. Ivy crawled up the four posts, and purple wisteria formed a canopy along the upper railings that draped down over the top of the bed. He pulled back the covers he’d conjured up and laid Kate down on the enchanted bed.

“Let me see.” He pulled her hand away from her stomach. The slashes looked painful, but thankfully they were not deep. Crimson blood smeared her fingertips. Roan cursed himself for not noticing it sooner.

“It really hurts,” Kate said in a wavering voice. Her brown eyes were full of tears as she looked up at him.

“Close your eyes,” he whispered.

She flashed him one of those adorable, rebellious glares of hers that he was surprisingly charmed by, but this wasn’t the time for her to argue with him.

“You’re still being bossy,” Kate whispered, but her eyes softened.

“It is for your own good. I need to heal you. Remember what I said about my magic? The shine is dangerous. You must trust me.”

She lifted her lashes up as she continued to gaze at him, and then he saw it, that gentle slide into the direction of trust. Her lashes lowered and fanned across the pale skin of her cheeks.

“Keep them closed until I tell you it’s safe.”

She did. Roan released his glamour, and the shine of his magic grew brighter than the sun.

“Be still, little one,” he soothed, and let his magic pour into her skin.

* * *

Even through her closed eyelids,Kate was almost blinded by the bright light. A searing heat burned in her stomach, but it grew less as the seconds passed, and she couldn’t help the tears that escaped her closed eyes. When the pain finally ebbed away, the light pouring through her eyelids dimmed.

“You may open your eyes,” Roan said.

When Kate opened her eyes, she saw the dying light of the sun creating striations through the canopy of wisteria high above her. Beneath her were cool, clean bedsheets and a soft mattress. The pain within her body was gone. She was tired rather than exhausted. In that moment, she felt as if she could be carried away upon a light breeze.

A black-and-purple butterfly flitted among the wisteria blooms, and Kate was mesmerized by its fragile beauty. Her lips parted as she took in such a simple but beautiful thing.

“What do you see?” he asked her.

“That butterfly. It’s so large, so vibrant... We don’t get butterflies like that in my world... not anymore. They’re dying out.” She thought of all those delicate butterflies that were slowly going extinct because of the destructive lives humans led. Nothing felt sacred or safe anymore, and she never felt that more strongly than she did now, watching a butterfly in the land of the Fae whose life was not challenged or threatened.

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