Chapter. 58

Luther swept me away, along the twists and turns of the maze, deeper into its center. He stopped when we reached a small clearing. Rose bushes grew on both sides of the labyrinth, forming an archway above us, sheltering us from the sun. An earthy, flowery scent floated in the air.

“I’ve seen the designs of the labyrinth,” Luther explained. “I doubt anyone will find this spot.”

“How did you know I was in the labyrinth?” I inquired, letting go of his hand.

Luther considered me for a moment, his expression unreadable.

“I couldn’t bear to see you so upset,” he said. “So I followed you.”

“What about your lover?” I asked bluntly, crushing a flower petal.

Luther stepped towards me, but I shifted farther away from him, staring down.

“Dealla doesn’t mind,” he mumbled.

My heart tightened in my chest, so much that I gasped for air.

“Please tell me how to leave this place,” I whispered.

“Tatiana…” Luther inched closer to me, again, and again, I moved away.

“Please Luther. I’d like to be alone now.”

“Dealla doesn’t mind, because she’s not my lover,” Luther dropped, his voice pained.

“You don’t have to keep me informed of your love life, Luther. Please, just tell me how I exit this maze.”

“You don’t understand,” Luther said.

“No, I don’t!” I groaned. “If you’ve made one thing very clear these past few days, it is that I don’t understand, and that you don’t care to explain what I don’t understand.”

“Dealla is a childhood friend. She’s an oracle from Nemetes, my hometown,” the words flowed out of him now. “I can’t lie to you, Tatiana. I thought I could, but…,” his voice broke.

I longed to hold him, to comfort him, but I refrained. Luther had stated plainly that we weren’t lovers anymore.

“There was never anyone else,” he continued. “Just you.”

“What? Then why did you…?”

“I can’t marry you, Tatiana. What I want, what you want doesn’t matter. I hate that I lied to you, but I didn’t know what else to do. I had to make you disgusted by me, so much that you wouldn’t want to marry me...you see, marrying you would greatly endanger everything I care for.”

“What are you talking about? Why?”

Luther shook his head, in a way that I’d seen many times before, whenever he grew cold around me for no apparent reason. I knew he wouldn’t say anymore, even if I pressed him on.

“Forces are at play that even I can’t understand,” he answered, evading my questions. “Trust me. We simply can’t marry.”

A shudder ran through his body as he said these last words. I had never seen him this vulnerable, his eyes so tortured. I disregarded my curiosity and moved closer to him.

“Okay Luther,” I whispered. “It’s okay.”

Luther held on to me with a potent, fierce strength. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I never want to hurt you again.”

“It’s okay,” I repeated, ignoring the guilt that threatened to invade my thoughts.

“I want to be with you, Tatiana. I meant everything I’ve said to you before. I can’t afford to lose you.”

“I meant what I’ve said too, Luther,” I managed to answer.

But that didn’t stop me from betraying you...

I suddenly felt dizzy. How could I embrace Luther, accept his apology when now I was the one lying to him? King Hughes was likely about to send an emissary to Voke with his answer. And then whatever forces Luther was so afraid of would be unleashed. If he had gone to such lengths to hide why he couldn’t marry, I only suspected that the consequences would be devastating.

I can’t be with him.

But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him of my betrayal either.

Why did he have to lie?

“Luther,” I pulled away from him. “Can you show me how to exit the maze?”

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes. Just light-headed. I haven’t been sleeping well.”

At least this much was true. Luther accompanied me to the edge of the labyrinth, where I insisted I could travel back to the palace on my own.

Once alone in my chambers, I splashed cold water on my face to quiet my mind.

How am I going to get out of this?

I decided to first try and find out what Luther was referring to. Perhaps Cleta would know. I waited until later in the afternoon, hoping that she would go back to her apartments before the continuation of the festivities in the evening. I found her surrounded by servants, getting ready for the night.

“If we see each other any more often, the court is going to start thinking that we’re friends,” she started with a smirk.

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” I answered.

Cleta smiled. “Surely you’re not thinking of going to dinner dressed like this?” she gave me the once-over. “Have you learned nothing in your time at court?”

“Cleta, I didn’t come to discuss Ligones’ latest fashion,” I told her.

She didn’t care. She called out for more servants, who busied themselves around me, pulling my hair, taking my measurements. I did my best to ignore them.

“Now you may tell me why you came to visit,” she finally allowed.

We were both sitting in front of mirrors while a stern woman applied rosy powders to our cheeks.

“I’ve talked to Luther,” I informed her. “He said that he can’t marry me, because of forces beyond his control.”

Cleta dismissed the servant with a wave of the hand and turned to look at me. “What do you mean?”

“That’s the reason he gave me for not being able to marry me. He said that if he did, he would endanger everything he cares about.”

“Sounds like nonsense to me,” Cleta frowned. “The Cernunnos can be a bit cryptic sometimes.”

It was my turn to be confused.

“They are known for having a special bond to nature,” Cleta explained.

“Aren't all demons?”

“Yes and no. We all have a connection to the earth, in specific, tribal ways. The Cernunnos tribe think they have a connection to our cosmos, to nature in every sense of the word.”

“They think?” I asked.

“I mean, they do,” Cleta conceded. “They have a way with plants and such. But their connection goes beyond that. A lot of them are intensely spiritual. They have a long tradition of oracles, for example.”

“Like Dealla,” I realized.

“So you’ve met her,” Cleta said. “She is one of the few oracles from our generation. You see, while older demons still believe in prophecies, most of us don’t anymore. It’s a bit of a lost art.”

“Don’t they ever come true?”

Cleta cocked her head. “Sometimes,” she chuckled. “It isn’t an exact science...Perhaps a prophecy has been made about Luther? But I don’t see why that would prevent him from marrying... He’s already defeated so many women in combat. Why would he even bother if he thinks he can’t marry at all?”

“Perhaps that’s why Luther is notoriously the strongest fighter in all of Voke,” I suggested.

“I suppose you’ve got a point there,” Cleta agreed.

We exchanged glances, both mulling our conversation.

Whatever the reasons are, I hope to find out before King Hughes answers my letter.