Page 126 of Labyrinthine
Of course he did.
He wanted to win.
“I told you that the labyrinth revealed what he truly was,” he says. “That the darkness you saw would consume him.”
I nod.
“I wanted you to believe it. Because it made it easier for you to leave him. To walk away. I thought it would hurt you less.”
He looks down at the floorboards.
I almost ask him if that’s true—if he really thought it would hurt less. But the look in his eyes tells me he’s convinced himself it is. And maybe that’s enough. Maybe I don’t need to unmake every lie just to prove he meant it.
“I needed you to be afraid of him,” he says at last. “Because if you weren’t—if you knew he wasn’t the monster—then nothing I offered would’ve mattered.”
“And now?”
He lifts his eyes. “Now I think the gods are watching. I know that they want you to make this choice. Clearly. With the truth laid bare. And I will anger them if I do not respect your decision.”
The answer hits colder than it should.
I almost laugh, but it turns bitter in my throat. “You’re telling me the truth now not because you want to, but because you’re afraid of what might happen if you don’t.”
He doesn’t argue. Gods, it’s worse than if he had.
“And what is the truth, Darian?”
“He’s not all darkness. Not completely. He can control it.”
I swallow. “If I give him a reason to.”
Darian’s blue eyes burn with reluctant hope, bright and brittle like frost on steel. “Yes.”
I study him for a long time. The man who offered me a way out, who stood beside me when I didn’t know which way to run. Who said all the right things and still couldn’t see that they weren’t the things I needed. I don’t hate him. I never will. But I don’t trust him either. Not the way I need to trust the person I walk into fire for.
“You’re not a villain, Darian,” I say softly. “You’re not innocent either.”
He nods once. Slow. “And him?”
“He’s not innocent. But he never lied about it.”
I watch his shoulders sink with the weight of what could have been. The fire behind us crackles and fades, burning lower.
The moment hangs between us, full of endings that won’t be said aloud. The flames have burned down to embers now, small, red, and restless. I rise slowly, as if the weight of the truth has finally settled on my shoulders. There’s only one thing left to do.
“I need something from you,” I say at last.
His eyes flick to mine. “What is it?”
“Not a favor. A vow.”
He straightens. “You ask a lot, Princess.”
“I need your silence. You’ll tell no one what Mallen became in the maze. Not your men, not the Temple, not the Crown. Not even as a whisper.”
He hesitates.
I hold his gaze. “You said the gods are watching. So swear it.”
