Again and again he shifts—an endless struggle of creatures I cannot name—until, suddenly, it is simply the Minotaur again, the man I know. He slumps within my arms. I do not let go. I am too afraid, and my fear is good. A moment later I feel another transformation steal over the Minotaur. This time, stone. Stone that takes me with him.
I do not understand at first. Only, my body feels heavy, as though gravity is pulling down and down. I hear a scraping sound, like rocks rubbing, and see from the corner of my eye the Minotaur’s skin go gray and hard. I remember the first time seeing him, some ghost light playing tricks, the curve of his shoulder resembling stone. This time it is no illusion.
“Save yourself,” whisper the skulls. “Let go.”
Let go, my mind echoes, as I watch with horrified fascination as stone crawls up the Minotaur’s body, over my own, encasing both our legs in a dull hard shell. I feel as though I am being dipped in concrete. I feel as though I am dying. I gaze into the Minotaur’s face, looking for some sign of the man I am risking my life for. His eyes are closed. He is unconscious.
“Let go,” whisper the skulls. “Let go and you will be free.”
It is not too late. I could pull away. But I look again at the Minotaur and remember his voice, his touch, the feeling of home in his arms, and I cannot leave him. He is all I have, all I want, and to lose him, to lose that part of myself I have given him when for the first time in my life I belong—
The stone creeps. I press as close as I can, hooking my arms around the Minotaur’s neck. I kiss him, hard, and after a moment I feel him stir and kiss me back. I smile against his mouth. Taste tears. Mine.
The Minotaur murmurs something I do not understand. I do not let go. I keep kissing him, even when he begins struggling, protesting, trying to push me away from the contagious gathering of stone. I hang tight, ignoring him. He has been betrayed by magic—both of us have—but I will be his champion to the end.
The stone rises. The Minotaur and I stop moving. We are locked together, and all I can do is tilt my head, to kiss him. I look into his eyes—blue like sky—blue with grief—and try to smile.
“Not what you expected?” I say, and the Minotaur makes a choking sound that I cut off with a kiss. One last kiss.
The stone covers my face. I go blind.
The next time I learn how to see again, I find myself cradled in strong arms. I am being carried. My feet dangle, my head lolls, and I feel sick to my stomach. I struggle to be put down. Just in time. I bend over, gagging, eyes streaming.
Then I remember. I fall to my knees.
A hand touches my shoulder. I turn. Find the Minotaur crouching beside me. He is not wearing the mask.
It startles me. For a moment I do not know him, but then I look into his eyes and they are the same soul, same heart. I touch his mouth with trembling fingertips, and he captures my wrist, holding me gently. His hands are the same, as well. Strong and warm.
“How?” I murmur. “I thought we were dead.”
“We were,” says the Minotaur, a hint of wonder in his voice. “You gave your life for mine.”
I sag against him. We are still naked. I run my hands over his body, searching for injury. Explore his face, studying the unfamiliar lines, the dark curl of his hair. He is a handsome man. But then, I thought so before ever seeing his face. Before he was anything but a presence in the dark.
I trail my fingers down his neck, following the red imprint of the former straps. The Minotaur watches my eyes. There is such tenderness in his face I want to lower my head and weep. I think I might do so anyway.
“How?” I ask again.
“I was a monster,” says the Minotaur, “and the king did not think it possible that anyone would ever care for me. Not enough to do what you did. The fact he even allowed one chance to lift the curse was meant more as punishment than hope. To break me with the futility of my existence. Because who…who would ever love a Minotaur?”
“I do,” I say quietly, and he shuts his eyes, shuddering.
“You had faith,” he whispers. “You believed in me, or else you would not have held me.”
“It was difficult. I thought you would kill me in the process.”
“I almost did.” He opens his eyes. “I became the creatures I transformed into. Only your touch kept me centered. Only you. If you had let go…”
I stop him. I do not want to think about what might have been. I glance around, noticing for the first time that we are in some kind of building. The stones are dark and smooth with age, and there are pillars rising to a vaulted ceiling that is elegant in its massive simplicity. The silence is heavy. We are alone. But there is light—streams of it cutting through holes in the upper segments of the high walls.