Free The Flame in the Maze by Caitlin Sweet

.” Asterion said, thickly, as if his tongue were reshaping itself, too. “I’m sorry.” He raised his head slowly—the horns hadn’t changed—and gazed at her and at Kosmas. The bubbling had subsided, but the skin on Asterion’s arms and chest was livid. She didn’t want to look, but couldn’t help it: she saw how the fresh marks were laid over older ones. Wounds over scars. Pity tugged at her, beneath the shame and fear.
    She turned to Kosmas as Asterion’s breathing slowed. “Thank you,” she whispered. Kosmas shrugged. His blue eyes looked even clearer and lighter, in the glow of the lamps that lined the wall. Blood was dripping from his palms; when he saw her gazing at it, he closed his hands and grimaced.
    â€œAnything for a lady,” he said, and she had sudden, choking desire to laugh.
That princess was a lady,
she thought of saying
. That Ariadne who fed you honeycomb. But even when I was in the merchant’s big house, I’ve only ever been nothing.
    â€œPrinceling,” he said to Asterion. “I’d push you off this ledge right now, except that I need to know: why did your own people do this to you?”
    Asterion eased himself down until he was sitting with his raw legs straight. He shook his golden-haired head; his horns made faint silver arcs in the air. “I don’t know.” His words were ragged, and leapt from low to high.
    He’s just a boy
, Polymnia thought.
That’s what he is, really.
    â€œSo you didn’t expect this.”
    Asterion sniffled and rubbed the back of his hand under his nose. “They told me . . . the priestesses. They told me I’d be taken to see the first Athenian sacrifices. Maybe they didn’t know, either. Maybe it was just the king who knew I was to be a hunter. Though if the king knew, so did Ariadne.” He sniffled more violently than he had the first time, though this time Polymnia thought the noise might be laughter. “Godsblood—what am I saying? It was probably her idea in the first place.”
    â€œA hunter,” Kosmas said, his voice gone very quiet. Somewhere close, gears bit; the cables directly above them moved and the ledge shuddered down. Asterion scrabbled at it with his fingers, and Kosmas and Polymnia sat so they wouldn’t fall—but after a moment that couldn’t have been longer than a few breaths, the movement stopped.
    â€œAs I was saying,” Kosmas continued, between clenched teeth, “a hunter?”
    Asterion tilted his pale, gaunt face up to look at Kosmas. “It’s what my father said, up there. I’m here to hunt you down—the ones who survived this part, anyway. I’m here to kill you for the Goddess.”
    Polymnia thought,
And now he changes back into the bull and gores us with those horns, and it doesn’t even matter, because we’re just going to die falling, otherwise.
Only he didn’t change. He sat and stared, his scarred palms turned up on the stone.
    Kosmas crouched. “So,” he said, his face not far from Asterion’s, “I suppose I should push you over, after all.”
    â€œYou should,” Asterion said. “Or I should jump.” He licked his lips, and Polymnia saw that the lower one was oozing blood. “Except that I don’t want to die. And I don’t want anyone else to, either.”
    Kosmas glanced at her. “What do you think, my Lady? Should we be merciful?”
    She couldn’t speak, and didn’t know what she’d have said, if she could. All her bones were juddering; everything beneath them was slipping. Shock, some part of her knew.
    â€œVery well,” Kosmas said, as if she’d replied. “We all live. For now, anyway.”
    Asterion smiled a strange, sad smile. “We’ll probably all regret this.”
    â€œProbably,” Kosmas said. “Now let’s see if we can’t let ourselves off of here.” He