Those two words, those fateful two words explained everything. And yet I said, “What?”

Her expression crumpled. “I’m–”

I shook my head, forestalling the repetition. “I heard. I just… I don’t… How?” Another stupid question requiring another shake of my head to keep her from answering, because I damn well knew how.

Just as I damn well knew the consequences.

I sat down heavily next to Pénélope, the stone floor of the cellar cold beneath me. I felt a hand grip my shoulder and, looking up, I saw Tips. He was the lone half-blood who hadn’t fled, and his expression was filled with unexpected sympathy given his sentiments toward the aristocracy. But everyone knew who Pénélope was. Everyone knew the nature of her affliction.

And everyone, including me, knew there was little chance of her surviving this.

“I’ll tell them not to disturb you, my lord.” He inclined his head to Pénélope. “My lady.”

His boots trod heavily up the stairs, and then we were alone.

“He knows then?” I asked, staring at the toes of my boots, because it hurt to look at her. And because I could feel, ever so faintly, the sense of a third troll’s magic. My eyes burned, and I scrubbed at them furiously, keeping my hood pulled forward though I knew she hated it.

“Yes.” Her voice was toneless, hands smoothing the fabric of her destroyed gown. “He had Lessa try to kill me. I escaped, but…”

But there was no escape in Trollus.

“I’m not going to let them hurt you,” I said. “I’ll speak to the King again. Now that you’re pregnant, that has to change things.”

“Again?”

I bit the insides of my cheeks, not wanting to tell her but knowing I had no choice. “I spoke to him after I last saw you. He… My aunt…” I broke off. I didn’t want her to know about the foretelling, which all of a sudden made a great deal more sense. The fey saw all. They’d known.

“Then there is no point.” Her voice was chiding. “You know if he wouldn’t help before, he won’t help now. I’m not worth the cost. Especially not now.”

And in my mind’s eye, I could see the King’s face when I asked the boon: a mixture of irritation and scorn. The condescension in his voice as he explained that he had no interest in meddling in Angoulême interests for the sake of a girl whose death was already in the cards.

“Then I’ll kill him. And your grandmother and Lessa, too, if I have to.”

“And be executed for it. You’re no more exempt from the law than Anaïs is.” She curled in on herself, tucking her knees to her chest. “If you believe I’ll sacrifice your life just to save my own skin, you’re mistaken.”

“It’s not just you, though,” I said. Though even if it had been, I still would have been willing. She was precious to me, and the idea of a life without her was intolerable. A life alone. Maybe if we’d never walked this path, such an existence might’ve been made palatable, my days filled in service to Tristan, my passion fulfilled by the fight for our cause. But we had walked this path, and now, knowing what life could be like, how good and precious it could be, there was no going back. And there was no replacing her.

Her forehead dropped to her knees, one hand pressed to her stomach while the other balled into a fist.

No replacing them, I silently amended, knowing what I had to do. “Pénélope, do you trust me?”

She lifted her face, then said, “With my life.”

“Good,” I said. “Because I’m going to have to risk it to save it.”

---

I strolled back home, Pénélope trailing behind under a cloak of illusion that I had more trouble than usual maintaining. My magic wavered and trembled, and without my hood, the concentration on my face would have given away that I was up to something, if not what. I deliberately avoided Tristan, knowing where he’d be on his inspection of the tree, because if he discovered my intentions, he’d do everything in his power to stop me.

We went in through the servants’ entrance, several of them eyeing me with interest, but it was better than being waylaid by my parents if I’d come in the front, especially since they weren’t alone. There was an oppressive weight of power in the house, which meant the King was here. I was confident about my ability to sneak Pénélope past my family, but not past him. He missed nothing.

“Wait here,” I whispered once we reached my room and I dropped the illusion, revealing Pénélope’s wide eyes and tight expression. Then I hurried down the hall toward my mother’s chambers, where I proceeded to dig around in her closet until I found what I was looking for.

Back in my room, I said, “Put this on,” and handed her the leather and armor that had been my grandmother’s. “You’ll move easier in it.”

“And where exactly will I be wearing it?” she asked, setting the garments aside while she worked on unfastening the buttons on her dress. I turned to give her privacy, hearing the faint splash of water as she wiped away the filth from her ordeal.

I hesitated, knowing she wouldn’t like the answer. “The labyrinth.”

The splashing ceased.

“Is that your plan, then?” she asked. “That I hide in the tunnels with the sluag for the rest of my days? Because that isn’t precisely the standard of comfort I’m used to.” She laughed at her own joke, but it was high-pitched and strange.

“No.” I pulled on my scaled coat, then put my cloak back on, checking the inner pocket for the small bulge that had been present with me every waking minute, my fear of losing it almost as great as my fear of being caught with it. “Wait here. I need to get the key.”

Ducking out into the hallway, I glanced in both directions before coating the floor with a layer of magic to muffle the sound of my steps. From the lower level, the King’s laughter echoed through the floors along with the awful weight of his magic. Such an enormous amount of power that he never used but to intimidate. Never used but to further his own ends, which never amounted to any good but for him. Angoulême was supposed to be his enemy, yet in this, they were as good as allies.

“Laugh while you can,” I muttered under my breath, then delved into the lock on my father’s study, muting the sound of the click as it opened. It was black inside, but I moved through the room on memory alone until I was next to his desk, then formed the faintest ball of light to guide my motions.

The key sat in a golden box on the table, and I unraveled the magic that was its true protection, easing a weight I’d constructed years ago onto the key’s cushion before allowing the trap to settle back into place. When I was younger, I’d taken it countless times without asking to go adventuring with my friends, but then the only risk had been a slap on the wrist.

Tonight, the stakes were much higher.

---

Shutting the gate, I led Pénélope into the tunnels until we were round several bends before dropping my illusion and illuminating our surroundings. Her eyes were wide, the sluag spear she gripped shaking, her heart a rapid thunder that matched my own, although for different reasons.

“Stones and sky,” she whispered, reaching out to touch the crushed wall of a building, fingers tracing what had once been a window frame. “It’s like walking through an enormous tomb, isn’t it?”

“I suppose.” The truth was, I had never given it much thought. We came here for fun, excitement, and adventure, not to contemplate the dead. And death was too pressing, too imminent, for me to want to think about it now.

“I thought it would be more ominous,” she said, bending to examine the pattern of the cracked paving stones. “But it’s more sad than anything else. All those lives lost in the space of a heartbeat, not even a chance to say goodbye. To tell those who mattered that they were loved.”

“But at least it was quick,” I said, taking her hand. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

She made a noncommittal noise, but followed me through the ruined streets without hesitation until we reached the narrow crevice leading into the labyrinth proper.

“It looks like the pathway to a nightmare,” she said, her steps faltering. “Marc, I don’t know if this is a good idea. I’m not trained to fight – especially not against the sluag – and if we were to become separated, I haven’t the wherewithal to find my way back.”

“That won’t happen.” I pulled her close, wanting to tell her that if I had my way, we’d never be separated. But I wanted the moment I said those words to be right, to be special, not to be forced out by circumstance in the way so much of our relationship had been. “As long as we’re quiet, the sluag are unlikely to even notice we’re here.” And with a dozen half-bloods having been recently sentenced to the labyrinth, the creatures were likely sated. But I didn’t tell her that.

Her grip on my arm tightened, and she said, “I’m afraid.”

But before I could offer any words of comfort, she turned sideways to ease through the crack and into the depths of the labyrinth.

We moved silently through the tunnels, and not for the first time, I realized how much I’d underestimated her. How much we’d all underestimated her bravery. Though her heart never ceased its frantic drumming, Pénélope did not hesitate again, squeezing through tight spaces, climbing over slick boulders, and jumping down into holes without question. True bravery was not doing something without fear, but rather, I thought, doing it despite fear.

“It’s this way,” I said, gesturing left. “Close your eyes.”

Her tongue ran over her lips nervously, but her lids closed over her eyes and I took her arms, guiding her forward until we stood at the end of the tunnel, the fresh air clean and tantalizing as the faintest breeze caught at the loose strands of her hair. “Open your eyes,” I said.

A faint gasp exited her lips as her eyelids opened and she took in the cavern. I’d come back twice since stealing the Élixir. In those visits, I’d removed the bodies and drained the foul water, but that hadn’t seemed enough. So though I had no talent for the creation of beautiful things, I’d set to making the cavern as worthy of her and this moment as I could, clearing rubble and scrubbing away mildew and dirt before redirecting a stream of water so that it ran through the center and beneath the stone platform I’d carefully constructed. On the walls, I’d placed tiny pieces of silvered mirror that caught and reflected the large orb of light I suspended in the middle, making the shadows appear filled with stars.

“This is beautiful.” Pénélope stepped out of my grip, making her way down the incline to stand on the platform, where she slowly turned, a smile on her face and her eyes bright, fear vanquished. And for me, all the world fell away, leaving only her. “Very beautiful,” I responded, my voice rasping over my dry throat.

On unsteady legs, I followed her down to stand next to her on the platform, the only sound the gurgling water running beneath us. My stomach felt as though it were doing somersaults, my skin flushing hot then turning cold as I struggled with what to say. How to ask. How to breathe.

“It smells different in here,” she said. “Clean. Like…”

“The outside,” I finished for her even as wind that tasted like pine and frost blasted down through the hole above, tasting of freedom that we’d never have. I extinguished my light, then gently tipped her face up so that she’d see the opening to the starred sky above. But I never took my eyes off her face, because there was nowhere I wanted to be but with her.

She was quiet for a long time, then asked, “Marc, why are we here?”

And I knew she knew. That the scene I’d staged to be as similar as possible to that in Trollus had revealed my intentions, eliminated the need for explanations even as it forced one from my lips. “Pénélope, I love you.”

A tear escaped the corner of her eye, barely visible in the darkness as it trickled down one cheek.

“These past weeks have been a dream, but they’ve also been a nightmare.” I inhaled a sharp breath, then another, but it didn’t feel as though any air was reaching my lungs. “A dream, because I never imagined that you’d ever see me as more than a friend. That you’d…”

“Love you?” she whispered. “Because I do. I always have. I always will.”

I nodded once, because anything more would have broken me.

“But also a nightmare?”

I swallowed hard. “Because it isn’t enough.”

“Marc, I–”

I pressed a finger gently to her lips, knowing that I’d said it wrong. That she’d misunderstood. “Stolen moments aren’t enough. I’m tired of sneaking around when what’s between us is no secret to anyone. I want to go to bed with you every night and wake up in the morning with you by my side. To build a life with you without fear. To raise our…” The sentiment strangled in my throat. “I don’t want anything to stand between us anymore.”

Reaching into my pocket, I extracted the vial that I’d kept on my person since the moment I’d stolen it from the well in the glass gardens. The contents glowed faintly in the darkness, a magic that bound worlds, and which could bind hearts.

Pénélope stared at the Élixir, and then jerked away with such violence that she almost fell off the platform, knocking away my hand as I tried to steady her. “No!”

Stumbling down, she knelt next to the stream of water, face in her hands. “You’re doing this because you think sacrificing yourself is the only way to save my life. But what you don’t understand is that I’d rather die a thousand deaths than drag you down with me.”

My feet felt fixed to the platform. “That’s not true.” And it wasn’t. At least, not entirely.

“Isn’t it?” Her features scrunched up as though she were in pain. “My grasp on life has always been a fragile thing, but now my fate is certain. If you’re bonded to me, your life will be equally in jeopardy. And even if you manage to survive my death, this magic only works once. I won’t risk your life and steal your chance to build one with someone else. I want you to have a family. To be happy.”

“I want that, too,” I said. “But I want it with you.”

“We both know that’s not possible.”

Whatever cowardice had been binding my feet in place released, and I dropped off the platform to kneel next to her. “It is possible, Pénélope. The only thing that’s stopping us is everyone else, but we can take that power away from them if we want to.”

“And if I don’t want to?”

Tears were flooding down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking, but I was careful not to touch her. Not to push her. All her life she’d been forced this way and that, and I refused to do the same. “I won’t make you do anything, Pénélope. But if you don’t want this, don’t want me, I want to hear you say it. I deserve to know that it’s you making the choice, not your father. Or the King. Or anyone else.”

The wind whistled through the cavern, and I caught the faintest glimpse of moonlight. We were running out of time, and I didn’t think the Duke would allow Pénélope to survive until the next full moon. “Pénélope?”

“This is cruel,” she whispered. “You know I want to be with you more than anything. And if the cost was mine alone to bear, I’d shoulder it in a heartbeat.” Her sob echoed through the cavern. “But you are the one who’d bear it, along with all of those who are relying on you to save them. And how selfish would I be to want that?”

“Then be selfish.” I sounded angry, but it was desperation. I couldn’t lose her like this. I refused to. “Your life has been dictated by your father, by your affliction, by circumstance. When have you ever done something meaningful because it was what you wanted?”

“I shouldn’t want it.”

The anguish in her voice was like a knife to my gut. “But you do,” I said. “I know the risks. I know there is every chance that this pregnancy will kill me along with you. But I’d rather live a short life bonded to you than an eternity without knowing what it was like, because all it would be is an eternity of regret.”

Her fingers crept toward mine, latching onto the vial that held our salvation. Our damnation. And I was afraid to let her take it lest she shatter it against the stone, leaving all our wants and dreams scattered in pieces among the broken glass. I was afraid.

But I also refused to be a coward, so I let her take it.

Sitting on her heels, she pulled out the stopper, letting it drop from her fingers and roll away into the darkness.

My heart slowed to a crawling thump, thump as I held my breath.

“To selflessness,” she said, then drained half the contents in one gulp.

Excitement and terror rolled through my veins, but I took the vial back from her. “To selfishness.” Then I swallowed the rest, the liquid sticky and sweet on my tongue, burning its way into my stomach.

The world trembled and blurred as the magic stole into my veins, and I pulled Pénélope into my arms, lifting her onto the platform right as the edge of the moon crept across the opening, spilling its light into the cavern. The mirrors caught its brilliance, and it seemed we were not buried beneath curse and rock, but kneeling in a field surrounded by sky and stars.

Pénélope’s fingers interlaced with mine, and I kissed her, her lips tasting like salt and dreams and desire. Everything I wanted. Everything I was willing to die for.

Then she was there. In my mind. In my heart. I gazed into her eyes, knowing for the first time with certainty that she loved what she saw. That she would not change me. And I wouldn’t change her. What souls we fey creatures had were now bound by the greatest magic known in this world and the next. It was the greatest joy I’d ever known, something that nothing – nothing – would ever make me regret. But it was also the greatest heartbreak.

Because I knew it wouldn’t last.