The sea had been merciless on the journey to Crete, its waves lapping hungrily at the ship’s hull as if eager to swallow you before you even reached the island. But fate had been crueler still. Now, you stood before the entrance to the labyrinth, the air thick with the scent of damp stone and something deeper—something ancient, something waiting.

You weren’t the first sacrifice, nor would you be the last. Your people had sent you, a Princess of Athens, across the sea as an offering to King Minos, a desperate attempt to stave off his wrath for another year. The Minotaur awaited within, a creature of legend and nightmare, its hunger never sated.

The guards flanking you were faceless beneath their bronze helms, but the man before you was not.

Prince Remus of Crete stood between you and the darkness of the labyrinth, his golden-brown eyes locked onto yours. His presence was nothing like his father’s—where King Minos loomed like a storm, his son was quiet, unreadable, the sea before the tide turned.

He didn’t move as the guards tightened the bindings around your wrists. Then, at last, he spoke.

“Do you know what lies beyond this door?” His voice was soft, laced with something unreadable.

You lifted your chin, refusing to let fear take hold. “Death,” you answered.

“It doesn’t have to be.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he slipped something into your bound hands—a spool of golden thread, its glimmer faint in the torchlight.

“Ariadne’s thread,” he murmured. “Follow it, and you may yet find your way out.”