Page 164 of Labyrinthine
So the lords bow more deeply to Mallen.
They respect him.
They obey him.
They call him king.
Not to my face, but often enough in the corridors. He commands the army. He conquered Starsfall. He has always been the blade, and I—until now—was the one hidden behind it.
He knows this.
It’s why he’s pacing now, like a man walking toward judgment.
He knows he’ll be the one to crown me in the eyes of the court—even though I’ve already proved myself worthy. To Starsfall. To the gods. To myself.
A sigh tears from his chest. “Where is your tea?”
When Evie arrives a breath later, flustered and pale, Mallen snaps. The pot is cold. Barely steeped. He doesn’t shout—but the tone of his voice is enough. She flinches and nearly drops the tray.
Marcus steps through the door before I rise.
“Enough,” he says, turning to Mallen, in a voice as dry as old parchment. “You’re being unreasonable.”
Mallen turns, jaw tight, and slams his hand once against the sideboard. I’ve tolerated his scowls and the storm cloud gathering around him as he’s tried to find another way to give me what I deserve. He’s raged against the nobles, irritated that they still haven’t accepted me for all I am, infuriated that he has to be the one to give me power.
But this? This petulance? This is beneath him.
He turns to me, eyes darker than I’ve seen them in days.
“You’ve carved your throne from ash and bone,” he says.
I rise slowly, silk whispering around me. “Then let me dress for it—before I remind you what it cost me.”
Marcus raises a brow. “Come on,” he says to Mallen, already gripping his sleeve and hauling him backward. “Before she throws you off the balcony.”
At the threshold, Mallen hesitates. “What will you wear?”
“A dress,” I say, smiling. “A nice one.”
Marcus drags him away before he can answer.
Evie lingers in the silence that follows, more cautious now. She knows what I can do—and what Mallen means to me. Her hands tremble as she brushes my hair into a braid and threads it with emerald pins. She spends too long on my makeup and then helps me into my gown. It’s a deep green silk that shimmers with every breath, cut to expose skin I wouldn’t normally show anyone but him. We cover the worst of it in jewels. The rest, I leave bare.
For Mallen.
I catch my reflection as she fastens my sandals. The woman in the mirror is no one’s daughter now. She’s no man’s conquest. She is the queen. And if Mallen’s mood frays over today, he’ll have to swallow his pride and get over it.
“He’ll like it,” Evie says softly.
I nod, though we both know it’s not the dress bothering him.
He doesn’t want to kneel.
Not again. Not in front of them.
He’s brushed it off every time Marcus raised the subject, but the tension in him is undeniable—like a sword not yet drawn. He’ll do it. Because Starsfall will follow where he leads, and he loathes that it has to be this way. Because I asked. Because Ineedhim to. And because he needs it too, even if he doesn’t want to admit it. This isn’t about humiliation. It isn’t even about what’s right.
It’s about truth.
