Four

The forest stretches around us, the air cool and damp with the scent of moss and pine. I trail behind him, the sound of my boots crunching against the forest floor blending with the distant rustle of leaves in the breeze. He doesn't say a word as he walks, his back straight, his steps confident, as though the maze and its tricks hold no power over him.

I keep my distance, but my eyes betray me. They keep straying to him—to the strong line of his shoulders beneath his dark tunic, the way his sword hangs effortlessly at his side, the faint movement of his hair as the wind brushes through it. There's something about him that feels... magnetic. A pull I can't seem to resist, no matter how much I tell myself to look away.

The dimples in his cheeks catch my attention next. They appear each time his jaw shifts slightly, whether he's clenching it or relaxing it as we navigate through the trees. They're subtle, barely there, but they soften the sharpness of his features in a way that feels unfair. I wonder—absurdly—how he might look if he smiled.

The thought unsettles me. Why am I even thinking about this? I shake my head, trying to focus on something—anything—else, but the questions creep in anyway. Who is this man? Why does he feel so sure of himself, like he belongs in this maze and this forest while the rest of us stumble through it blindly?

He glances over his shoulder, and I quickly drop my gaze, staring down at the forest floor as though it's the most fascinating thing I've ever seen.

"Something on your mind?" he asks, his voice smooth and tinged with amusement.

"No," I say quickly, a little too quickly.

His lips twitch, and for a moment, I think he's going to smirk again, but he doesn't. Instead, he turns back around, continuing forward without another word.

I let out a slow breath, relieved and frustrated all at once. There's something infuriating about him—the way he carries himself, the way he seems to notice everything without giving anything away. And yet, I can't stop watching him.

My eyes stray again, this time catching the slight flex of his hand as he adjusts his grip on the hilt of his sword. His movements are deliberate, practiced, as though he's done this a thousand times before. Whoever he is, he's no ordinary man.

But then again, I remind myself, nothing about this place—or this day—is ordinary.

"You're awfully quiet for someone I'm sure has a hundred questions racing through her head." He breaks the silence, his deep voice cutting through the quiet sounds of the forest.

I glance at him, catching the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes before looking away again. "I'm holding my curiosity back," I reply dryly, my voice laced with sarcasm. "It's hard to feel comfortable asking questions when there's a very sharp sword on display."

He chuckles. "If I wanted to kill you," he says, a teasing edge to his tone, "why bother saving you in the first place?"

"Good question," I mutter, narrowing my eyes as I step over a root sticking out of the ground. "Why did you decide to help me?"

He glances back at me, his lips quirking into a half-smile. "Let's just say... curiosity."

I stop mid-step, staring at him. "Curiosity?" I repeat, arching a brow. "That's not an answer."

"It's the only one you're getting for now," he replies casually, not bothering to stop or explain further. He keeps walking, his pace steady, as though he's already forgotten the question entirely.

My hands clench into fists, irritation bubbling in my chest. I rush to catch up, my boots crunching against the leaves and twigs scattered across the forest floor. "You're a very frustrating person to talk to, you know that?"

His laugh is soft but unmistakably amused. "I've been told."

As we walk deeper into the forest, the towering trees arch above us, forming a canopy that blocks out much of the light. The air feels cooler here, heavier somehow, and I can't stop myself from glancing at him again.

"Who are you?" I ask, finally.

He doesn't answer right away, his steps measured as though he's contemplating the question. "Let's say I'm the guide."

"The guide?" I echo, narrowing my eyes. "The guide to what? The maze?"

He glances back at me, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Perhaps."

I grit my teeth at his vagueness. "Did you design it? The maze and... whatever this whole trial is?"

He shakes his head, the motion casual. "No."

"Then who did?"

His gaze sharpens slightly, but he doesn't answer. Instead, he pivots, his voice cutting through the air like a blade. "Why were you there in the first place?"

The abrupt change in topic catches me off guard, but I manage to keep my footing. "Why does it matter?"

"Because I'm curious."

I hesitate. Something about the way he looks at me—like he's trying to uncover a secret I didn't even know I was keeping—makes me want to tell him, though I have no reason to.

"I have my reasons."

"That's not an answer," he counters, mirroring my earlier complaint.

I exhale sharply. "I'm not here to become a queen, if that's what you're wondering."

His brows lift slightly, the faintest hint of surprise flickering across his face. "No?"

"No." I glance at the ground, stepping carefully over a cluster of roots before looking back up. "I'm not interested in being the wife of a monster."

He stops walking abruptly, and I nearly collide with him before taking a step back.

"A monster?" he repeats, his tone unreadable.

"That's what he is, isn't he?" I say, tilting my chin up defiantly. "The king. Some immortal creature who doesn't age, who rules from the shadows. No one's ever seen him. No one even knows what he looks like. For all we know, he could be some kind of beast."

The silence that follows is thick. His deep blue eyes seem to catch the light, a storm swirling just beneath the surface.

"You have a lot of opinions about someone you've never met," he says finally, his voice calm but carrying an edge I can't quite place.

"I have enough to know I don't want to marry him," I reply firmly.

He stares at me for a moment longer before turning back around, resuming his steady pace through the forest. "Fair enough," he says, his tone lighter now, almost amused.

I follow him, the sound of our steps blending with the rustling leaves and distant calls of birds. Despite his evasiveness, there's something about his presence that feels... steady. Like even in the chaos of the maze, he knows exactly where he's going.

As we move deeper into the forest, the eerie silence of the maze fades into the ambient hum of the woods—branches creaking, leaves rustling, birds chirping in distant treetops. The tension in my chest begins to loosen, though my curiosity remains sharp.

"What happens to the other women in the maze?" I ask.

He doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he slows his pace, his broad shoulders shifting slightly as if the question weighs on him. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" I press.

"The worst thing that could happen," he continues, "is that they'll die."

The casual way he says it makes me stop in my tracks. "Die?"

He stops too, turning to face me. "It's a dangerous game," he says, as if that's supposed to make it better. "Not everyone gets out."

A chill runs down my spine. "And the ones who do?"

"They'll proceed to the next test," he says simply, as though that should be obvious.

I grunt in frustration, crossing my arms. "What are all these tests even for? I don't understand. It's... barbaric."

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. "What if no one understands?"

I blink at him, taken aback by the unexpected response. "Someone has to," I insist. "The King. He's the one running this, isn't he? Surely he knows what this is all about."

A faint, bitter smile tugs at his lips. "What if even the king doesn't know the answer to that?"

I stare at him, his words settling heavily in my mind. "That's ridiculous," I say, though my voice is softer now, unsure.

"Is it?" he asks, his deep blue eyes locking onto mine. "Sometimes, things are set in motion long before anyone alive today can remember why."

I shake my head, his words gnawing at the edges of my thoughts. "Then what's the point of all this? Why does he keep looking for a queen if he doesn't even know why?"

"That's a question you'll have to ask him yourself," he says, turning away again.

Frustration burns in my chest, but I don't say anything more. The man before me—this so-called guide—is maddeningly evasive, and yet... there's something about the way he speaks, like he knows more than he's letting on. Like he's carrying the weight of truths he can't share.

I follow him again, my mind spinning with questions.

As we keep walking, the forest grows denser, the air cooler. The sunlight struggles to break through the thick canopy above. I try to ignore the gnawing ache in my legs from hours of trekking through the maze and now this forest.

"So," I start, breaking the silence. "Where exactly are you leading me now?"

He glances back at me briefly, one dark eyebrow arching. "To my manor. It's safer there—for now, at least."

"Safer?"

"In case the royal guards find out," he says casually, as if it's not a big deal. "Whether you want to admit it or not, you cheated your way out of the game."

I stop for a moment, my hands resting on my hips as I glare at his back. "Cheated?"

He stops too, turning just enough for me to catch the faint smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Asking for help doesn't exactly follow the rules. And I suppose agreeing to make a bargain isn't in the spirit of the game, either."

I roll my eyes and start walking again. "Everyone will do whatever they can to survive," I say, brushing a stray branch out of my way. "You'd be a fool not to."

"Hmm," he muses, his voice laced with amusement. "Including trusting a stranger and following him wherever he leads?"

I narrow my eyes at his back, but before I can think of a retort, he chuckles—a deep, rich sound that somehow manages to both irritate and disarm me.

"It's a bold strategy," he says, throwing me a glance over his shoulder. "Not the safest one, though."

"I didn't have much of a choice," I shoot back. "It was either trust you or stay trapped in that maze until I dropped dead."

He hums again, the corners of his mouth twitching like he's holding back a grin. "Fair enough."

I stare at the back of his head, fighting the urge to hurl a snarky remark. He's infuriatingly calm, his tone as teasing as his words. And yet, despite myself, I find my curiosity growing. I can't ignore the unease creeping up my spine. Trusting him might be the boldest—or stupidest—thing I've ever done. But for now, I don't have much of a choice.

I quicken my pace, closing the gap between us. "What's your name?" I ask, my voice cutting through the rustling leaves and chirping birds.

He stops abruptly, forcing me to halt before I bump into him. Slowly, he turns around, his dark blue eyes narrowing slightly. Without a word, he sheaths his sword, the metallic clang sharp in the quiet forest.

For a moment, I think he's going to ignore me entirely. But then he exhales, the sound heavy and filled with a kind of exasperation that makes it clear I've tested his patience. Good.

"Hades," he says finally, his tone clipped, like he's tossing the answer to me reluctantly.

"Hades," I repeat, rolling the name around in my mind. It suits him—dark, commanding, and a little unnerving.

"And you?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. "Do I get to know the name of the woman who keeps pestering me with endless questions?"

"Freya," I reply without hesitation, standing a little straighter.

He studies me for a moment, his gaze lingering as if committing the name to memory. Then, with a sharp sigh, he steps closer. "Listen, Freya," he says, his tone lowering to something more serious. "From now on, I'm not answering your questions for free."

I blink, confused. "What does that mean?"

"It means," he says, his lips curving into a smirk, "if you want answers, you have to give something in return. Answer for answer. If you ask, I'll ask. That's the deal."

I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes. "That's ridiculous."

"Perhaps," he says, turning back around and continuing through the forest. "But those are my terms. Take them or leave them."

I let out an annoyed breath, glaring at his back. He's impossible—infuriating, really. But I can't deny that he has the upper hand here. He knows this forest, this game, and possibly much more than I do.

"Fine," I mutter, following after him. "But don't think I'm going to tell you anything interesting."

He chuckles softly. Hades stops again, turning to face me fully this time. He folds his arms across his broad chest, the corner of his mouth twitching upward in amusement. His deep blue eyes bore into mine, making me feel as though he can see every thought I'm trying to hide.

"So," he begins, his voice low and steady, "what's the real reason you entered this little competition?"

I mirror his stance, crossing my arms and tilting my head slightly, refusing to let him intimidate me. "What would I get in return?" I ask, mimicking his earlier smug tone.

For a second, he looks surprised, but then his lips curl into a slow, deliberate smirk. "Bold," he says, his voice dropping an octave. "I like that."

His gaze sharpens as he takes a step closer, and then another. My confidence falters, just slightly, as the space between us shrinks.

"You seem to be very brave, Freya," he continues, his voice like a soft, dark melody. "But I wonder..."

He takes another step, now close enough that I can see the faint stubble on his jawline, the dimples that deepen with every subtle movement of his face.

"...how far can you go with that attitude?"

My breath hitches, and I find myself swallowing hard, heat rising to my cheeks. My heart races, and I instinctively take a step back, bumping into the rough bark of a nearby tree. His towering frame seems to block out the sunlight, leaving only his shadow and the weight of his presence.

I force myself to meet his eyes, though my breathing quickens. "Why don't you try me?" I say, my voice firm, even as my pulse betrays me.

He chuckles, low and rich, the sound reverberating through me. "Oh, I plan to," he says, his smirk widening before he steps back, giving me space.

I exhale sharply, trying to steady myself. Hades watches me, the amusement in his eyes never fading.

"Answer for answer," he reminds me, his tone almost teasing. "Your move."

I freeze as Hades leans in, his movement slow and deliberate. He tilts his head slightly, and for a breathless moment, I think he's about to whisper something. But instead, he inhales softly, the air between us stirring as if he's pulling something unseen toward him. His proximity sends a shiver down my spine, and I instinctively look away, focusing on the tree behind me.

Still, out of the corner of my eye, I see him close his eyes for a split second, like he's savoring something only he can sense. It's unsettling, yet oddly magnetic.

When he finally steps back, his smirk is even more infuriating. "I'm a very patient man," he says, his voice as smooth as silk. "I can wait for hours, days... even years if I have to."

I don't reply, my hands curling into fists at my sides as I try to calm the fluttering in my chest.

Hades tilts his head, his gaze flicking over me with unsettling precision, like he's peeling away every layer I have. "Of course," he adds, his tone lighter now, almost playful, "I'll find out the answer sooner or later. But there's something about hearing it directly from your mouth..."

He lets the sentence hang in the air, and I glare at him, knowing he's playing with me, goading me into reacting.

"...like I can't wait to hear what other sounds might come from there," he teases, his smirk widening into something wicked.

My cheeks burn, heat spreading up my neck as I fight the urge to lash out. Instead, I straighten my back and meet his gaze, refusing to let him see how much his words affect me.

"Keep waiting then," I say sharply, my voice steady even as my pulse races.

His laugh is low and unhurried, as though he has all the time in the world. "Oh, Freya," he says, his deep blue eyes glinting with mischief. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Hades flicks his finger, gesturing lazily toward the direction we're supposed to go, and points his chin as if I'm supposed to read his mind. "Keep moving," he says, his voice carrying that same insufferable tone.

I groan, not bothering to hide my irritation. "We've been walking for hours. My feet hurt," I complain, dragging each step now out of sheer spite.

He glances over his shoulder at me, one brow arched. "Do you want me to carry you?"

I glare at him. "I'd rather crawl," I shoot back, but my tone lacks the venom I intend because, honestly, my feet do hurt.

He rolls his eyes, a soft grunt escaping him as he mutters something under his breath. "Suit yourself," he says, clearly done with entertaining my complaints.

We walk in silence for a while, my legs protesting every step as the dense trees around us begin to thin. Finally, up ahead, a structure looms into view.

It's a vast, two-story building, its walls a pale white that almost glows in the fading light. But there's nothing inviting about it. The sharp edges of its design, the eerie stillness surrounding it—it feels abandoned, yet alive in some unsettling way.

"What is this place?" I ask, my steps slowing as we approach.

Hades doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he strides forward, his long legs carrying him effortlessly closer to the building. When he's a few paces ahead, he finally turns to me, his smirk firmly in place.

"Welcome to my sanctuary."