Page 39 of The Labyrinth and the Threaded Daughter

“You haven’t done that before,” he whispered.

“I am aware.”

He pursed his lips. “I don’t want to use you.”

Her brows knit together at that. “Use me?”

“I won’t be another—” he stopped himself before the name Theseus could form. “An heir who takes what he needs and leaves you behind.”

Her expression softened before steadying. “I am choosing this,” she told him. “I want to help you.”

The words landed heavier on Corin than he expected. But he spoke before it could settle too deep inside him. “How do we get out?”

She tilted her head, considering him. “We do not.”

His jaw tightened.

“You cannot. Yet,” she amended. “You must sacrifice something to the Labyrinth. It always takes. Once you make your sacrifice, then you will be free to leave.”

Corin nodded slowly, though the words offered no comfort. “You said that before. But how do I figure out my sacrifice?”

“The Labyrinth knows.”

“That doesn’t help me.”

“No.”

Corin groaned and shook his head in frustration. “Well, we have to get out of this chamber first, I assume.”

She gestured toward the nearest doorway. Corin had tried it early on in his escape attempts. He knew it led nowhere except right back to the chamber after twenty steps.

He frowned. “That one won’t–”

“Walk with me,” she said simply.

He hesitated but fell into step beside her.

The moment they crossed the threshold, the air shifted. It was different than he remembered it being when he had been endlessly turned around, more solid. Approving.

The corridor beyond stretched longer than it had before as well. Its walls were less oppressive, the stone warmer beneath his palm. The sense of resistance he’d felt earlier was gone.

When he glanced back to the chamber, it remained behind them, open and unchanged, not covered in new stone as the Labyrinth had done numerous times before.

Corin wondered if that was the Labyrinth accepting his choices or if that was simply the effect of Ariadne.

“Well,” he muttered, “that’s new.”

Ariadne allowed herself the smallest smile that Corin could just make out through the faded golden lights.

The Labyrinth did not protest their passage as they moved steadily through the hall. It did not groan or shudder or redirect them. Instead, it seemed to yield. It seemed to open and welcome the pair as they walked, and he had a feeling that was all because of the woman he was with.

Still, Corin tightened his grip on the blade at his side.

He matched Ariadne’s solid pace as they moved deeper together. The maze continued to unfold in front of them, not as a prison, but as a path that had finally decided to be walked.

It reminded Corin of when he had first entered the Labyrinth. It felt like so long ago, but it had only been some hours—a day and a half at most. So much had happened since he entered, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about any of it.

They hadn’t gone far before the corridor widened for them. The air grew colder, heavier, as the stone ahead echoed a history it did not wish to forget. Corin slowed instinctively, his steps softening and his grip tightening on his new blade.