Quarter Labyrinth Quotes

“You are an ocean I could easily get lost in,” Leif said. “But I can’t afford to drown.”
― Victoria McCombs, Quarter Labyrinth

“Someone once told me to protect my heart,” he said, his voice quieter now, barely more than a whisper. “Turns out I’m incapable of harming it anyway.”

He raised his arm and slowly peeled back his sleeve, exposing the tattoo etched into his forearm. My breath caught. It matched mine perfectly, that shape of a heart that pulsed with a rhythm. It thumped beneath his skin just like mine did.

“Aurelia put your heartbeat on your arm too,” I said, the words coming out shaky, as though saying them aloud might somehow ground me.

Leif shook his head, his gaze never leaving mine. “No, Ren. This isn’t my heartbeat. It’s yours.

The heat of the room pressed down on me all at once. My pulse thundered in my ears as Leif reached for me, his hand warm as it brushed against my arm. Gently, he tugged up my sleeve to reveal my tattoo that beat in time with the heart on his forearm—but slower, calmer.

“And this one,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the edge of my tattoo, “this one is mine.”
― Victoria McCombs, Quarter Labyrinth

“Sometimes I don’t think you’re real,” Leif spoke between kisses. His words were hot in my mouth. “You’re a fragment of imagination sent by the Stone Gods to torment me.”

“I think we can agree you’ve been far more of a bother than I have been.” I ran my hands through his dark hair, then down the strong line of his back.

He groaned into my mouth. “Not possible. You’ve completely ruined me.”
― Victoria McCombs, Quarter Labyrinth

“I’d planned out my life thoroughly.
I never saw him coming.”
― Victoria McCombs, Quarter Labyrinth

“The Leif I played with is gone. The one that roams this labyrinth is the monster his father created him to be, and there’s not a scrap of mercy in him.”
― Victoria McCombs, Quarter Labyrinth

“Clark learned the basics of sword play from the blacksmith where he apprenticed. While I spent my days on the seas, he spent his holding blades, and at night, we would train together. But train was a fancy way to say play. We played with swords, not intending to ever hurt one another, and never dreaming we’d have use for them. Even my father, though he carried two, just had them for theatrics. Mother said he liked the way they made him feel. We could claim we knew what we were doing, but Clark and I had been playing at a game that suddenly became too real.”
― Victoria McCombs, Quarter Labyrinth

“Wait!” A sharp voice bit the night. Clark came running down the hill, a satchel around
his torso, feet flying fast. “Wait! I’m coming with you!”

Panic rose in my chest. If this ended poorly for me, it’d kill me to have dragged sweet,
innocent Clark down with me. “Go back right now!”

He’d almost reached the shore now. We paid zero regard for the sleeping island. “No!
You’ll need help! You’ll need—hello, Ms. Alyson—me. I’m coming.” He dove into the water.
His limbs flailed as if this was their first time in the sea. “Wait for me.”

I wanted to push my oar against the rocky seabed to get away before dooming Clark to
whatever my fate may be, but from how he swam, he’d drown trying to reach me. So instead, I held out my oar.

“Grab on, you stubborn boy.”
― Victoria McCombs, Quarter Labyrinth