He looked down to the water, dragging his fingers across the surface. “Perhaps she enjoyed our tryst.”
Sophie’s gaze narrowed. “I don’t think so.”
“Well. That’s a bit hurtful.”
She ignored the attempt to dodge the point. “I don’t think there was a tryst. Was there?”
He inclined his head. “There was not.”
Her brow furrowed. “Then why the mad escape? Why enrage the earl?” She paused, realization dawning. “I see. Marcella will marry another.”
He nodded. “The owner of Hoff and Chawton menswear, if I recall. He’s promised me cravats any time I require them.”
“Marcella’s father won’t be able to argue the match.”
“I imagine he’ll be grateful for someone to happily marry his daughter. And Mr. Hoff is very wealthy.”
Sophie laughed. “You gave her the marriage she’d never have been able to have.”
“She swore it was a love match.”
“And the others?” Sophie asked. “Did they vow love matches as well?”
“Every one.”
She thought back on the other women, the ones she’d envied during their discussion in the carriage. “You ruin them so they can be happy.”
She would be happy, ruined by him.
“I give them the push they require.”
“I should have seen it,” she said. “If there was something between you, they wouldn’t have—” She stopped. She couldn’t tell him that.
“Wouldn’t have been what?”
“Nothing.”
“Oh, no, Lady Sophie,” he said. “It was just becoming interesting.”
She exhaled sharply, tired of lying. So she told him the truth. “If there were something between you, they wouldn’t have been so quick to tell you good-bye.” He stilled at the words. “Marcella wouldn’t have been able to do it so easily.” He lifted his hand from the fountain, touching her cheek with his cool, wet fingertips. She closed her eyes at the sensation. “It’s very difficult to tell you good-bye,” she whispered.
Silence fell for a yawning stretch of time before he said, quietly, “Is that what you want? To tell me good-bye?”
No.
Never.
King looked to the statue behind them. “What do you know about the Minotaur?”
The question set her back. She followed his gaze to the beautiful stretch of marble—a naked man with the head of a bull. “I know he was trapped in the labyrinth.”
“He was kept at the center of an impossible labyrinth, the solution to which was known only by one person.”
“Ariadne,” she said.
He raised a brow.
She blushed. “I know some of it.”
He took her hand in his, turning it so her palm was open to the air. He dipped a finger into the water and painted the center of her hand with cool drops, the sensations thrumming through her with visceral pleasure. “As the only one who knew the secrets to the labyrinth, Ariadne was tasked with leading the virgin sacrifices to the Minotaur each year to keep the gods happy.”
“That sounds like a terrible task,” Sophie said.
“Her father gave it to her because she was too precious for anything else,” King said, tracing the lines on her palm as though learning her own secret labyrinth. “Making her so essential to the process kept her close to home. It had the added bonus of convincing her that she was not worthy of what was beyond the maze walls.”
Sophie raised a brow. “And was she? Worthy?”
He leveled her with his green gaze. “More than she could ever know. Beautiful beyond imagination, brilliant, and kind.” Her breath caught at the words as he continued. “The Minotaur never attacked her. It was said that he loved her.”
He was not talking about her. She was going mad. Sophie cleared her throat. “Alternatively, he was intelligent enough to know that she was his line to dinner.”
One dark brow rose. “Are you going to let me tell you the story? Or make jokes?”
She put a hand to her breast. “My apologies, my lord. Of course. Do go on.”
“On the third year, as the sacrifice approached, Theseus came to the labyrinth.”
She looked up at the statue. “It seems as though he’ll be trouble.”
“He vowed to slay the Minotaur, and Ariadne agreed to help him navigate the maze.”
She snatched her hand back from him, the swirling touch unsettling. “That seems rather cruel, considering the Minotaur’s feelings.”
“Love makes us do strange things.”
She knew that better than anyone. “She’d fallen in love with Theseus?” At King’s nod, Sophie added, “He was most definitely trouble. The worst kind.”
King continued with the story. “Ariadne led her love to the center of the maze, where he and the Minotaur fought.”
“For their lives,” she offered.
“You see? You’re not paying close enough attention. Theseus fought for his life,” He shook his head. “But the Minotaur, he fought for Ariadne.”
At the words, Sophie went still, her gaze finding King’s, watching as he continued. “He fought to be with her in that world he could not escape, willing to take the years of solitude if it meant that he could see her, however fleetingly. She was the reason he lived; and if he could not have her, he did not care if he died. She was the only person in the world who understood him.” Sophie’s breath came faster and faster, and she leaned forward, listening intently. “The only person he’d ever loved.”
“How tragic,” she whispered.
“But Theseus didn’t have a lock on the fight—the Minotaur was stronger than ten men,” King said, watching her intently. “Theseus had brought the sword of Aegeus with him, the only weapon that could kill the Minotaur, but he lost it mid-fight.” He pointed to the feet of the statue and Sophie looked to find a sword discarded there, in marble. “The Minotaur would have won, if not for Ariadne. She entered the fray and returned the fallen sword to Theseus.”
Sophie shook her head. “The poor beast.”
“Betrayed,” King said, the word rough on his tongue. “By the woman he loved. It’s said that when he saw her choose Theseus, he laid himself down and submitted to the blow.” He paused. “Though I always thought the blow of the sword could not possibly have been as bad as the blow Ariadne dealt.”
She shook her head, tears on her cheeks. “What a terrible story.”
He reached up and brushed away her tears. “Death was likely the best outcome—he’d never have been free of the labyrinth, anyway.” There was a long, silent moment before he let her go. “Suffice to say, I have always been partial to the Minotaur.”
Knowing she shouldn’t, knowing it was a mistake, she reached for him, putting her hand on his warm arm, willing him to look at her. When he didn’t, she came to stand directly in front of him, her skirts brushing against his knees. He did not look up, his gaze locked on her body, staring through it, at the tale he told. At something else.
“King,” she whispered, and he met her gaze, the sadness in his eyes overwhelming her. Without hesitation, she put one hand to his dark hair, loving the feel of it, silk between her fingers. “What has happened?”