by Isabel Wroth
Jalia felt like she was an ancient old woman as she climbed to her feet, grimacing as her body protested the stretch, utilizing the cold stone wall of the labyrinth to hold her up while she bit down on her lip and breathed through the painful ache.
Was it impractical of her to hope Tyro had the same sort of hands-on healers who could spend a few hours massaging the kinks out of her limbs?
I'll be queen. He can get some. She thought raggedly. Imagining an entire week-long festival of selfish pampering where all she did was have sex with Dhega, eat, get massages, and sleep.
Yup. That sounds like a plan. Eat, sleep, have sex, get massages. Perfect. Maybe make that two weeks.
Hell, when all this was over, Angel Eyes could land the LUX and Jalia could spend a week inside the salon itself.
A few more turns and Jalia had to throw her hand up at the sudden blinding light pouring from the open arch before her. Relief spilled over her like clean water,
"Fark my shoes, finally."
"Fark, this!"
Entayta's evil hiss came just before pain blasted Jalia's feelings of relief to dust, and the darkness of the labyrinth surged up like a living, breathing monster to swallow her once again.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
"...mine! It's mine, mine mine!"
Jalia wasn't sure if it was the shrill shrieks of triumph or the agony pounding in her head that brought her back to life, but whatever the cause was, she came to, lying in a heap on the ground with something sticky pooling in her ear.
She tried to push herself up, but the movement made her so dizzy her belly immediately ejected the contents of her hearty breakfast.
The forced spasms hurt her head even more, and when she was finally able to take a breath not choked with vomit, when her blurry vision cleared enough to see, the bright light that filled the heart of the maze drilled another spike of agony into her already tormented brain.
Jalia shaded her eyes as best she could, taking a moment to notice and wonder why her hand was covered in blood.
Oh, wonderful.
Were her entrails still inside her body? Check.
Eyeballs in working order? Obviously.
She still had her tongue, her hands, all her appendages seemed to be in the right place. So, either Entayta had merely been screaming to her gods for no reason other than to frighten Jalia, or she'd gotten distracted by the glitter of gold at the center of the maze and decided bashing Jalia's head in was good enough.
Able to peek through her lashes, Jalia saw Entayta skipping around the illuminated chamber like a little girl, twirling and claiming something was hers.
Jalia would have snorted her distaste, but it would have hurt too much. She must have made a sound to alert Entayta to the fact that she was still alive, because the Nirian whirled toward her, her saliva coated lips peeling back like she was rabidly trying to bare her teeth.
"It's MINE!" she screamed violently.
Entayta snatched up the nearest crown and shoved it on her head with a snarl of victory. Jalia blinked, and the insane elite was gone, the only trace of her left behind was a smear of blood and dirt on the white tile she'd been standing on.
Vanished, literally in the blink of an eye.
Oh, lovely.
'Not what it seems,' meant the floor fell out from under you if you chose the wrong crown. Wasn't that nice?
Skull splitting apart in her hands, Jalia closed her eyes to take deep breaths, hoping to dispel the dizziness before she stood up.
It helped a little, but even though her vision began to steady, her stomach still churned and heaved. It hurt to breathe; it hurt to think, every beat of her heart pumped blood through her veins, which hurt.
She was so tired of hurting, but she supposed it was her own fault she'd turned her back on the crazy woman promising to kill her.
Jalia leaned against the cool stone, the toe of her shoes just barely touching the black tiles the circled the room, the wedges of white tiles bisecting it like a starburst.
Entayta had been running around the room, so it stood to reason the black tiles weren't unstable, but it looked like every single crown within touching distance sat on a pedestal surrounded by white tiles.
Jalia had to test her theory but bending down to find a rock made her feel as though someone had turned her upside down and poured all the blood in her body into her head.
If there had been anything left in her stomach, it would have come back up at that moment, and it took so much effort to make her fingers close around a loose stone, even more, to lob it into the chamber in hopes it landed on a white square.
Luck was on her side, and the rock knocked a shiny tiara off one of the pedestals, and every white tile in the room disappeared for just long enough to drop someone into whatever waited beneath. They snapped back in place without a sound, two crowns now missing.
Two, out of hundreds.
She was going to need more rocks.
Gathering them took time, the meager handful she brought back only sailed true enough to knock five more of the crowns from their perch, and each time the white tiles flipped up, but not the black.
Once or twice she thought she heard a deep chuckle from the shadowy recess where the princes waited and watched.
Did they think it was funny she was down here half dead, covered in blood, tossing rocks at diadems what would have financed her for years in another life? Bastards.
Unsure how much of her they could see, Jalia withdrew back into the labyrinth and let her aching head fall back to the wall. Her arms shook with fatigue. Her left ear was full of cooling blood, her steps unsteady enough that she didn't trust herself to walk out on the tiled floor without a misstep that would send her to whatever pit waited beneath.
She couldn't go on like this, couldn't keep throwing rocks hoping to knock her crown off its treacherous pedestal in hopes of avoiding the fall.
There was a pattern. There was always a pattern. She just had to work past the pain to think.
Mustering what strength she had left, she forced herself to walk as straight as possible to the heart and looked up into that opening where she was certain Dhega and the others sat in comfort.
"When this is finished, I expect to be so coddled, my feet won't touch the ground for weeks!" she shouted, the spike of searing pain that burst behind her eyes causing her sight to blur with tears.
No one answered, but the way her skin prickled she knew Dhega was watching. Jalia marshaled her wits and struggled to find the answer to this damn puzzle.
Pressure plates must sit beneath the crowns, lift the jewels, set off the plates, open went the floor.
She made a cautious circuit around the room, counting the tiles, memorizing their placement, searching among the many sparkling tiaras for the one that would be hers.
Dhega had chosen it for her, so what did it look like? Was it that gaudy piece dripping with jewels? Or that simple circlet hung with delicate chains? Or maybe that one, a half-moon of glittering stars.
Whichever one it was, it had been placed with care alongside all the others. There was a way. She just had to find it.
One of the rocks she'd tossed lay nearby, and an idea came to her. She scooped it up and retreated to the entrance, crouching down before she threw it one last time, knocking a tiara free.
Jalia looked this time to the black tiles, quickly noting their position before the white ones fell back into place and smiled as the path became clear to her.
There were ten crowns safely within reach, the silver ones she discarded immediately, looking to the golden ones for her prize.
She might not have horns, but after all she'd been through, she would be counted among the Golden Bulls. Four gold crowns remained, but only one caught her eye.
It was studded with diamonds clear as teardrops, set in curling gold waves that reminded her of the way the ocean had rolled around her while Dhega held her safe in his hands during their swimming lesson.
Looking back, that day stood out amon
g all the others as the one where this became so much more than a contest.
Jalia kept her feet on the slices of black tile, bracing her hand carefully on the edge of one of the stone shelves to reach for the crown. Her crown.
Her fingers closed around it, and she glanced down, making sure the ground beneath her feet was sure before lifting the jeweled diadem free.
As expected, the white tiles disappeared, and all that kept her from falling to her death was the narrow ledge of shadow, and her hand braced on the stone.
She waited until the floor righted itself before she dared to breathe a sigh of relief. When she turned around, it was to the sight of every prince in Minos standing above her at the edge of the viewing room, the sounds of their applause filling her ears.
It echoed like thunder in the chamber and made the pain in her head that much harder to bear. She looked for a way out, a way to get away from the noise, turning again to find Dhega filling the doorway right in front of her.
Jalia's feet carried her to him without thought, drawn to him as though he were some kind of heavenly body, and she a star. He caught her up in his arms and held her close, his breath of relief hot against her throat.
"So long as I have arms to hold you, your feet will never touch the ground."
*****
Dhega brushed aside a soft lock of Jalia's dark hair, pressing his fingers beyond to feel for the smooth skin recently healed by her assassin's tonics.
The blood had been washed away, her pain soothed by gentler hands than his, and now she slept, exhausted from all she had endured.
She had solved the nine labyrinths and stolen his hard heart at the same time.
He had watched with that same heart in his throat as the crazed Nirian had slammed a rock into Jalia's fragile skull, only to fall prey to the trap so many before who had come before had done.
To see Jalia use the rock meant to end her life so cleverly had left him smiling, even as he struggled to maintain his silence and not call out to her when she looked up for him.
Bleeding, in pain, she had still passed her final test and claimed her crown. He hadn't yet been able to ask why she had chosen the diadem she had, if it had been out of pleasure or chance, or if she had somehow known it was the one he had ordered made especially for her.
He would rather have stayed here with her all day, but there were things to do, preparations to be made for their return to Letau and the festival that would mark the occasion of their wedding.
He would see it become such a spectacle as to be remembered for the ages.
Dhega forced himself away before he could find excuses to remain, silently closing the door to their temporary chambers and turning to find his guard, and Jalia's assassin waiting beyond.
He looked at the man, at the short spikes of his black hair, his black eyes that gave away no secrets or emotions to betray his innermost thoughts.
"My queen sleeps. You will be close by if she wakes and is frightened?" Tom inclined his head and gave his word, folding his hands over the buckle of his bare belt.
"You have no weapon to protect her, yet she names you as her Queen's Guard?"
The assassin gave a slow smile, but it was not one of mirth,
"I am a weapon honed to a sharp edge, your majesty, but carry plenty which are sharper. So long as I have breath, my lady is in no danger."
Dhega couldn't help the surge of jealousy he felt at the declaration, wondering at the deeper meaning.
Jalia claimed no feelings deeper than friendship, but a man who pledged his life to a woman who saw him only as a friend? Dhega could not shake that lingering doubt.
"She tells me your sword is pledged to her a crew of mercenaries, yet you claim you would give your life for hers?"
"I don't have a sword. I'm more of a knife man." Tom replied, "I will make whatever vow that will satisfy you, but I will give my life in service to the Queen of Minos."
Dhega felt the irrational knot of jealousy tighten around his throat and had to remind himself it was not the assassin Jalia had risked her life for all these weeks.
"I will be satisfied to know you will also obey my commands."
"I will."
"Then I am satisfied. I will return before the evening meal."
Just as he made to leave his suite, the Phantom spoke again.
"Princess Renaya is intent on meeting with the queen."
"The queen sleeps. Renaya and whatever demands she makes can wait."
"Her presence concerns me."
It was the ice in Tom's tone that caused him to take pause and look back,
"Why?"
"Renaya comes in Antehe's place,"
Dhega rolled his eyes dismissively, "Antehe never comes to functions she is not commanded to, and I have not made such a command for many years."
"Then I am even more concerned."
"Do tell." Dhega drawled, his impatience to see his business done so he could spend the night uninterrupted with Jalia, growing dangerously.
"Renaya wishes to speak to Jalia with what she claims are matters of importance.
“Jalia has been queen for no more than a few hours, and while I could see Renaya might feel kinder ears would hear her important matters, there is an edge of desperation to her voice I do not care for.
"Especially as she comes with an attendant who does not attend her, and without her son who still feeds at her breast.
“I've spent half my life in the company of gamblers and have learned when to make bets on sure things.
“I would wager Renaya has been sent to harm what you hold precious, and Antehe threatens to harm her son if she does not."
"Please see she finds her way up to visit with me then, Tom. Unharmed."
Dhega winced to hear Jalia speak from behind him, sounding perfectly unconcerned Renaya might have been sent to harm or kill her.
"Jalia—"
Her arms wrapped around him from behind, her lips took a gentle cruise across his shoulder, causing him to stumble over the words that would immediately have denied her request to allow Renaya anywhere near her.
"If you had your way, what would happen to Renaya at Tom's suspicions?"
"I would send Antehe back her head." He answered without hesitation, looking back to find her soft blue eyes gleaming at him with gentleness.
"Mm-hm. Then you would never know just what Antehe has planned, and Renaya would lose her son."
Nivir spoke, his voice tight with shame and anger when Dhega glanced his way.
"My mother has a keen mind for strategy. She would not hesitate to take an innocent hostage if it gained her an advantage.
“Renaya also brought word to me from Antehe, but I refused to hear it, as I always do."
"As did I," Navir confirmed.
Jalia hummed, turning her cheek to his back, and Dhega nearly groaned under the weight of desiring to do anything to please his little human.
"I will not risk your life after all you have suffered. Not ever again."
"I'm not interested in risking my life again for at least another two weeks," she teased in answer, "Ask Renaya to come to me, let Tom take the attendant who's not an attendant, and we'll see what Renaya has to say. You can always kill her later,"
Dhega lifted his arm and drew her forward into his hold, looking into her beautiful eyes and let her see the monster only she was safe from.
"You joke, but I would kill her with my own hands and feel no guilt. I would see the streets run red with blood and feel only satisfaction before I allowed anyone to hurt you.
“If you wish to speak with Renaya, you will do it as her queen, with me at your side."
Jalia smiled up at him beautifully, not the least bit intimidated or frightened, "I would be very glad of such an imposing figure to guide and protect me. Will you bring Renaya up please, Nivir? Tom will deal with the attendant."
Tom's laughter echoed behind him as he left to do Jalia's bidding, and long after he had gone, Dhega realized he had just been managed
by what he mistook for his own idea by a clever queen who looked at him with a loving gaze.
He searched inside himself for the offense he would have taken to be so led by anyone else but found only amusement.
"In the future, I will not so easily be managed, my queen."
"Of course not, my king," she purred sweetly.
*****
"Antehe has my son and my sister with her son. She says she will see them dead if I do not find a way to kill you."
It was to her credit that seeing her attendant held securely in Tom's hand, Renaya didn't hesitate to confess.
Jalia wanted to offer her a sympathetic word, but Dhega had been adamant she remain silent and allow Renaya to speak. He held her perched on his lap, claiming there was no throne for her to sit on beside him, so she would share his until such time as that error was remedied.
Jalia thought it was more likely Dhega just wanted her on his lap and was giving a reasonable explanation as to why.
She didn't mind. She loved the way his huge hand so possessively covered her hip, his thumb having found a bare patch of skin at her hip where her skirt dipped low.
It was distracting as hell, but still felt wonderful and seemed to soothe Dhega even as she felt the muscles of his thighs bunch beneath her backside, tense with banked fury.
Jalia was less worried about Dhega's feelings on the matter, and more for Antehe's sons.
Nivir was made of stone, standing at Dhega's right shoulder, no hint of his feelings to be seen.
Zavir stood tall as well, but there was an ache in his gaze that hurt to look at for too long. Not because of the look itself, so much as the fact Jalia was intimately familiar with what Zavir was feeling. A man who held love for the woman who birthed him, yet was betrayed by her again and again, despite hoping for something different.
"Do you forget something, Renaya?" Dhega drawled, his tone sharp with the threat of danger.
Renaya swallowed thickly, trembling as she stood before them again, awaiting judgment.
"N-no, my king. I don't forget...oh." Renaya seemed to think better of whatever she would say, taking a deep breath before squaring her shoulders and offering a piece of actual paper.