Page 46 of Labyrinthine
It happens slowly. Deliberately. His hand brushes mine—just enough to ground me, not enough to risk being seen. His fingers curl, faintly, as if asking permission.
I don’t pull away.
We walk the rest of the distance like that—never looking at each other, never touching fully, but tethered all the same.
When we reach the back gate of the palace, he lets go first.
He doesn’t speak. Neither do I.
We say nothing, but in the silence, I hear myself making a choice.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The golden bracelettwirls on my wrist, the cool kiss of its sapphires against my skin. Like everything I wear tonight, it wasn’t chosen by me. The dress, the jewels, the braided hair with waterfall tresses—all chosen for a single purpose: to attract Darian’s attention.
Mallen watches from across the salon, motionless save for the slow curl of his fingers at his side. There’s a stillness to him that always comes before violence. He doesn’t hate the dress, or its sweep of pale fabric that clings to my figure, or the way the cobalt embroidery glints with every breath I take. He hates the eyes it draws. The message it sends. That tonight, my beauty has been weaponized for someone else.
My father’s gaze is colder still. The kind of cold that kills crops, freezes rivers, and starves cities. He taps one knuckle against his palm, over and over, each beat a warning. He doesn’t like me being noticed. Doesn’t want me wanted.
And yet here I am—gilded, poised, no longer his.
At the far end of the salon, a low platform rims the windows, two shallow steps above the floor, made for musicians rather than display. I wait there with my hands light on the rail while the room eddies below in ribbons of silk and talk. Courtiers drift close, offer a bow or a safe word, then peel away when I do not draw them in. The space is public, but high enough that anyone who joins me will be seen.
Darian ascends the steps like he was born to them, smiling as he offers his hand. I place mine in his without hesitation, though the heat of Mallen’s fury burns like a brand against my back. Darian’s grip is gentle—deferential—but he walks as if I belong to him. Through the crowd, past the watching eyes and the women who lower their lashes and tilt their throats, offering softness like a promise.
As though he’s used to walking into danger and expecting it to yield.
There will be more drinking tonight. More dancing. Revelry beneath a sword. The first challenge begins tomorrow, but the men from Larksbind laugh freely, as if they aren’t marching toward their graves. They speak with the nobles my father courts, manipulates, and tolerates. Maybe they don’t see the teeth behind the smiles. Maybe they think they’re the wolves.
“Princess?” Darian leans in, brushing his shoulder lightly against mine. “You seem far away.”
“I was thinking,” I murmur. His eyes catch the sapphire light of my necklace, and the blue of his irises is tinted with a depth that pulls, like tides under the moon.
“About tomorrow?” he asks.
I nod. He smiles.
“You needn’t worry. I don’t plan to die.”
I press my lips together.
He leans closer, voice low, meant only for us. “You’re afraid for me.”
I turn my head away, cheeks hot. He laughs, soft and low, and my protest dies on my tongue. I focus instead on the banners lining the columns, tracing the patterns stitched in gold thread.
“I didn’t think you cared,” he adds, and I don’t miss the way he watches me.
Hungry, but for more than power.
“I barely know you.”
“The lies we tell for comfort are cages too, Princess.”
I turn sharply, but he’s still smiling. As if the game’s already won. As if I’m another prize he’s claimed.
“I dislike men dying for entertainment.” My tone is cool. “That does not mean I care for you, specifically.”
He studies me then, his smile fading a little. Arms crossed. His muscles flexed enough for them to catch the candlelight. He’s not angry—just curious. Calculating. The space between us narrows, though neither of us moves. People pause around us, pulled into our orbit, as though they cannot escape until they know which one of us moves next.
