Page 83 of Quarter Labyrinth

“In return, I change Clark’s fate.”

My heartbeat faltered, stumbling over itself like a misstep in a dance. I waited for him to smile, to laugh, to dismiss his words as a cruel jest. But his gaze didn’t waver. The way he stared at me—steady, expectant, and unnervingly calm—drew the air from my lungs.

“What’s wrong with his fate?” I whispered, my voice trembling against the weight of his words.

“I can’t see all of it,” he admitted, his tone shifting to something softer, almost regretful. “But I see enough to know it won’t please you. I’ll do what I can to stop it, if you promise not to trap us with Leif.”

His words clawed at the edges of my thoughts, but I held my ground. “Don’t be coy,” I said, forcing the words past my lips. “What do you see?”

The air between us grew taut, as if the labyrinth itself held its breath. His eyes darkened, swirling with secrets and shadows, and for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to know the answer.

Suddenly Delilah stood behind him, her gown of homespun wool and her hair dripping in flowers. “Serenity, you must wake.”

I dug my feet into the ground as if I could plant myself in the dream by sheer will. The food no longer interested me. It felt heavy in my stomach. It was the conversation I needed to have more of. “No, I want to hear about Clark.”

“Lady Luck is at play. Wake, child.” She snapped her fingers, and everything slipped away like water in my hands I could never hold.

When I woke, everything was wrong.

THIRTY-EIGHT

Leaves fell as if the trees were weeping. The hours of dawn were upon us.

Astrid knelt beside Gunnar, slipping something into his mouth. She was meant to wake me for my shift. Why was she waking Gunnar?

I sat up slowly. Gunnar’s body turned a sickly shade of gray, and his chest stopped moving.

My mind wouldn’t register what just happened until my sight turned to Aiden, already gray and lifeless a few feet away. Astrid moved onto Harald next, liftingthe vial to his lips.

Lady Luck, indeed.

“Stop!” I screamed, hurling myself at Astrid and knocking her to the ground. My shoulder slammed into her ribs, and we hit the earth hard. The sound of the impact was muffled by the dead silence of the forest, broken only by the startled gasps of those still alive.

Harald, Tove, and Clark jerked upright from their uneasy sleep, their faces painted with confusion and fear. Harald’s instincts kicked in immediately. With a growl, he lunged forward and tore me off Astrid, his strong arms locking around my chest like iron bands.

I twisted and kicked against him, desperate to reach her. “Let me go!” I snarled, clawing at his arms as I stretched toward the vial dangling from Astrid’s belt.

“Ren! Knock it off!” Clark shouted, scrambling to his feet, his voice rough with alarm. He reached out to grab me, but I lashed out blindly, shoving him back.

“She killed them!” I pointed at the two lifeless bodies slumped nearby. The accusation rang through the air like thunder.

Their eyes flicked to the still forms, their expressions shifting from confusion to horror. In the chaos, Astrid’s hand darted toward her belt, her fingers closing around the hilt of a dagger.

“Look out!” Tove screamed, but it was too late.

Astrid hurled the blade with a sharp, practiced motion, and it arced through the air like a flash of silver lightning. Time slowed as the dagger found its target—Harald.

The blade buried itself in his shoulder with a sickening thud. Harald let out a strangled grunt, his grip on me slackening as his body crumpled.

“Harald!” Tove shrieked, darting forward to catch him. She staggered under his weight. Her knees buckled as he collapsed against her. Blood spilled from the wound, soaking into his tunic and dripping onto the dirt below. I tried to judge the angle of the dagger. Panic rose in my chest. Had it pierced too close to his heart?

But Astrid didn’t give me time to think. Her hand flew to her side, and she drew her sword in one fluid motion. The steel gleamed in the dim light as she leveled the blade at me.

I had no choice. My hand darted to my belt, fingers wrapping around the hilt of Leif’s dagger. I barely managed to bring it up in time to deflect her strike.

Her sword clanged against the dagger, the sound echoing through the clearing like a bell tolling doom. The force of the blow sent shocks up my arm, and the blade slid along the length of the dagger. It caught the back of my hand, slicing deep.

Pain flared, hot and sharp, and blood welled up instantly, staining the hilt of the dagger. My grip faltered, but I gritted my teeth and held on.

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