Page 69 of Labyrinthine
Mallen waits until I’m dressed before breaking the silence.
“Azhara?”
When I don’t answer, he takes my wrist—not roughly, not cruelly, but enough to make me look up and see the storm in his eyes.
“He is unlikely to survive the next challenge, but if he does and so much as lays a finger on you, I’ll kill him myself.”
“You said that last time,” I reply, sharper than I mean to.
Mallen scoffs, the sound brittle. “They performed better than expected. But no amount of strength will see them through the second trial.”
I don’t ask what my father has planned. Mallen wouldn’t tell me, and I’m not sure I want to know. Another jealous outburst could burn the whole room down, and neither of us is ready for that.
“The pink suits you, by the way,” he says, just as I reach for the door.
He means it as a compliment. But this gown is another costume I can’t take off.
I glance down. The dress is a confection of flowers and silk—soft, sweet, utterly unlike me. I loathe it. I told him so ten minutes ago.
“I look like the spring equinox spat me out,” I mutter.
His smirk is infuriating. But the way he opens the reception room door—quiet, controlled, bracing himself like he’s sending me into battle—sends a sliver of warmth through me.
On the other side, Darian is already waiting.
He stands the moment he sees me. And then he sees Mallen.
Neither speaks.
Their eyes lock in a quiet clash of history and warning—like swords sheathed but still drawn beneath the skin. Darian refuses to move aside. Mallen’s growl is low, guttural. It vibrates through my bones.
“I’ll be just outside,” Mallen says, gaze never leaving Darian. “One word, Azhara.”
He doesn’t say what he’ll do with that word. He doesn’t need to.
Darian watches him go, only relaxing once the door clicks shut. He sits, as if nothing happened.
“You decided to bring the garden with you, Princess?” he says, eyes flicking down my dress with a bemused smile.
“I hate this dress,” I sigh, sinking into the chair opposite him.
His head tilts. “Your father picked it, then. He did better yesterday, if he wants to provoke me.”
The way he says it is too casual. As though he’s laying out pieces on a board only he understands.
“How was your day outside the palace?”
I blink.
He smiles faintly, almost to himself. “Ah. So he didn’t tell me the truth. How surprising.”
My pulse stutters. “You knew he was lying?”
“I suspected,” Darian says, folding his hands. “There’s no point pretending Mallen doesn’t care for you. He’s made sure I know.”
I don’t know what to say. My cheeks burn.
“He was told to make you jealous,” I say finally, the words flat and defensive. “That’s all.”
