Page 21 of The Labyrinth and the Threaded Daughter

“Everyone is wrong,” she spat.

That snapped his attention fully onto her, his body curving inward despite her hands holding him steady. “What do you mean?”

Her eyes were cold as iron. “People do not understand the Labyrinth like they believe they do.”

He was quiet for a beat as he waited for her to say something else, anything else, that would help him to understand what was happening here. “Then explain,” he demanded. “Because nothing in here makes any sense. The Labyrinth spoke. You knew it would. That corridor shouldn’t have existed yet, as you said. And you–” he broke off, chest heaving. “You begged me like I was about to kill someone.”

Her eyes clicked to his face then, and something in them shuttered. But she didn’t respond, just remained frozen with her hands on his chest.

“Are you going to say something?” he practically begged.

Her eyes closed for a moment. “If you allow me to help you,” she said slowly, “I will tell you what I can.”

His brow furrowed. “What you can?”

“I won’t lie to you,” she explained. “But I cannot tell you everything. It will not let me.”

“It?” Corin echoed. “The Labyrinth?”

She nodded her head once.

Corin stared at her, considering her words. The pain was pulsing through his arm in time with his rapid heartbeat. With this pain and injuries, he wasn’t sure how agile he would be navigating through the maze, and sitting here, he’d be a sitting duck.

He thought of the daylight he missed. Of gold and ceremony from home. Of how easily his certainty had shattered under the weight of her grief.

“What choice do I have?” he grumbled, more to himself than the woman in front of him.

Ariadne exhaled, relief flickering across her face before she masked it once again. She rose and offered him her hand. “Then come with me, heir. We need not stay here any longer.”

“Because it will come back?” Corin spat.

She cringed. “Please.”

“Is that even safe?”

She was quiet another long moment. “Please.”

Corin stared at her outstretched hand for a moment longer before taking it with his uninjured arm and let her pull him to his feet. The world swayed and his side ached something fierce, but she steadied him without comment, adjusting her pace to match his injured stride.

Feeling her body supporting him did something to him that he didn’t want to explore just yet.

They took a different path than they had traveled before—a narrow passage sloping gently downward, the walls etched with carvings worn so smooth they looked more like shadows than stone. The Labyrinth felt…quieter here as they moved. Calmer. It was watchful, but no longer pressing.

The pair walked in silence for several moments, Corin’s thoughts tangling tighter with every step.

The Minotaur hadn’t chased him. It hadn’t tried to finish him. It had fought him, yes, but he had a feeling that the beast wasn’t quite putting its full force behind the attack. Not really.

And Ariadne—whatever she was—had mourned its anticipated death.

Perhaps she had seen many others fall to their fate by the Minotaur. Many heirs hadn’t made it out of the Labyrinth, and he was sure not all had gotten lost like Taleon. Though her reaction to their fight didn’t seem to be in regards to Corin’s fate but rather the monster he was protecting her from.

Had he been protecting her?

“How long have you been doing this?” Corin croaked as they passed another cross in the path. “Walking heirs through half-truths and silence?”

The only sign that the words struck a cord with Ariadne was that her fingers tangled themselves in front of her, pulling at her nails slowly. “It has been a long time since I really… engaged with an heir.”

“But you have?”