“Would ye like ta try it?” Brennus asks. I nod and walk with him, following the obvious entranceway before us.
After we round the first bend in the maze, we follow the outer rim. The mist from the water walls wets my face. Lights fade in and out in intervals behind the water with tranquil effect. “You know something, don’t you, Brennus? About Emil?” He glances at me. “You said earlier that Emil just wants to end me.”
“Emil attacked yer boy-aingeal—at yer aingeal’s house in Crestwood—he was looking for ye.”
“Is he alive?”
“Emil?” Brennus asks.
“Russell.”
“He survived.”
“How? Emil nearly shredded me within the first few minutes of meeting him and he technically wasn’t even fully there. He was inside a possessed human body.”
Brennus pauses in the labyrinth. “Ye should be wi’ me! I’ll keep ye away from Emil. Did he harm ye?”
I stop walking as I face him with a shrug. “He didn’t kill me.”
“Dat’s na whah I asked.” I walk again in silence. Brennus catches up to me and keeps pace beside me. “When Finn and I found yer friends in Crestwood, Emil was already dere. He was planning ta execute da wee Throne and da Power—”
“Anya and Zephyr.”
“Right, dem. He was going ta keep Russell alive until such a time as he could torture and kill him in front of ye.”
“But Russell escaped?”
“Escape is maybe na da right word—more like he was rescued.”
“You helped Russell?”
Brennus shrugs. “Finn and da fellas took exception ta da way Emil spoke about deir queen. Dey tought he needed ta be taken down off his high horse.”
I put my hand on Brennus’ arm, stopping and turning toward him. “No, Brennus. None of them do anything without your consent. It was you—you saved my friends.”
Brennus tucks my arm in the crook of his elbow as he urges me to move alongside him again. “Do na tell anyone dat I helped, I have a reputation ta protect.” My mind reels with the implications. “Whah happened wi’ ye and Emil? When did he attack ye?”
“You have to tell me everything first—with Russell and Emil.”
Brennus smiles at the shock on my face that I can’t hide from him. “I had a wee chat with Emil—Djet. Do ye remember him by dat name?” he asks.
“No.”
“May I touch yer cheek?” I stop walking and take a step away from him. He adds quickly, “’Tis only so I can show ye whah Russell remembers of yer lifetime wi’ him in Egypt. ’Twill be easier ta do dat if I can give ye da memory rather dan explaining it all.”
“How do you have Russell’s memories?” My suspicion is clear.
“I stole dem from him while he was focused on Emil.” I relent by moving closer to Brennus and facing him. The backs of his warm fingers brush a soft path down my cheek. When his hand drops away he takes my arm again, tucking it around his. We begin to walk the maze once more as transparent walls form around the curves of the maze—Brennus’ magic is conjuring them. “Dese are Russell’s memories from one of yer lifetimes together.”
A golden-skinned Emil appears on the wall of the maze next to a slight, dark-haired girl that I know to be me. As we walk, the scene of my lifetime with Russell plays out. He was Iah then, and I, as Zahra, couldn’t get enough of him. I witness our most intimate moments—our first meeting, our first kiss, the first time we made love in the secret alcove of Djet’s Egyptian palace are all there—all the things I used to see—all the things I used to be in that lifetime—seen through Iah’s eyes. My death—being burned alive—is gruesome, but it’s not as if it’s happening to me. It’s not the same as when I was forced back into the memory with Emil in Lille. I’m not experiencing it—I don’t feel the same pain, fear, or other raw emotions the way I had in France. This time, it’s tolerable.
“So, Emil was Djet, too?”
“He was.”
“Was he in every one of my lifetimes with me? Do you know?” My voice rises with sick desperation.
“Shh, hush now,” Brennus soothes as he disengages his arm from mine. He wraps it around my shoulder, pulling me to his side. “’Tis difficult for ye ta hear dis, but ’tis yer past, na yer future.” We round another bend in the floor. The transparent walls disappear by falling into the ground—no longer playing out the salacious aspects of my former lifetime
“Was he in all my lifetimes?” I ask again.
“I tink it’s a distinct possibility...”