Page 6 of Quarter Labyrinth

“There’s nothing you can do. The decree is already written.”

I spun on my heel, and Clark almost tumbled into me. I waited for him to right himself so he could see the determination in my eyes as clearly as I saw the pity in his.

“The Shallows are my birthright. I’m going to take them, even if I have to enter the labyrinth to do it.”

THREE

Clark continued to stumble after me as I wandered toward home, hatching plan after plan. I could catch up with Bjorn and ask for a spot on his team. I could trail his ship in hopes that he found the labyrinth. I could go searching myself. But none of those plans came close to the brilliance of using the one person who had good information about where the Quarter Labyrinth had moved.

“Stealing Aksel’s clue is the only way to find the entrance.” I stopped walking to look back toward thevillage. “You said he paid for a clue?”

Clark’s mouth slashed downward. “I told you that in confidence.”

“And I greatly appreciate it.” When his frown persisted, I sighed. “Listen, I’ve got no hope of finding the labyrinth on my own. That clue is my best shot.”

Even with the clue, I only had two days to get inside. At midnight on the second day, the entrance would be sealed.

Clark shifted uneasily on the rocks, tugging at the hem of his shirt. “Just go find your father and ask him about it.”

“Oh, is that all? I haven’t seen him in sixteen years, but all I need to do isfindhim, and all will be sorted.” I spared Clark a glance, long enough to see his expression fall. I released my ire to let the chill of the night lick against my cheeks. Then I tucked my anger away. “I’m sorry. You’re trying to help, and I’m being beastly. But if Callahan is about to accidentally give away my birthright, I haven’t the time to scour the seas for my—by the sounds of it,missing—father.”

I didn’t want to dwell on that part for too long. My father was missing. How long had he been gone? Who had taken him? The seas were too large of a place to hunt for one person, yet half of me wanted to board a skiff and search the endless shores for him.

I’d waited sixteen years to see him. Sixteen years of waiting for my life to begin, and hoping he’d be pleased with the woman I was growing into.

I didn’t want to imagine that day never coming.

The selfish part of me spoke up.If he remains missing, the islands will never know I’m the rightful heir.If I wasn’t Serenity Montclair,heir to the Silver Wings and Shallows and daughter of the famous Gerald Montclair, then I was just Ren.

Ren didn’t have a lot going on for her at the moment.

“What if he’s not a captain anymore and the Silver Wings aren’t his to give away,” Clark asked. “By the sounds of it, things have changed.”

Another possibility I didn’t wish to consider. “All the more reason to enter the labyrinth to earn them back. I’d rather fight for my inheritance than go groveling to my father about how unfair this is.”

Clark quieted. Good, I’d convinced him. I checked the village again, where the clock ticked onward. Within an hour, the clue would arrive. I had to be there when it did.

Around us, thin leaves rattled like bones in a grave. Torches were dying, streets growing dark as islanders who weren’t setting off had found their way back home. All the excitement of five minutes ago, dying out now that the fun was done.

And the twelve ships were setting off. The sight of them ignited a restlessness within me. I was falling behind.

Clark shifted his weight, wringing lanky fingers against one another. He spoke tentatively, like he regretted the words as they passed his lips.

“What if he’s not your father?”

Blood drained from my head. The wind stilled. Waves paused lapping against the shore to witness the heresy.

Eighteen months. That’s how long he’d known my secret and never once questioned it, even when I had no proof. It seemed his blind faith had a line.

“My mother’s not a liar.”

“She’s amother. They all tell lies to protect the innocence of their children.”

Blood came back to my head, and it burned white hot. The worst part was that I had nothing other than letters in a trunk signed with a fake name which Mother claimed were from Gerald. No proof. Nothing more than hope.

Hope, and a feeling deep in my gut that it was the truth.

“Three truths,” I spoke, holding up three fingers, and folding one with each point. “One, my coloring is darker than everyone from Haven. So we know my father can’t be here. Two, lying doesn’t match the rest of Mother’s personality. Three, we’ve watched a letter arrive in the post written in expensive ink you can’t buy from here—nor that we can afford. So if Mother’s not forging the notes, it’s not like her to lie, and I’m obviously not from here, it’s logical to believe the story.”

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