Page 7 of Labyrinthine
I am small and trembling and unmoored.
And still—I don’t want to run.
Because just like that, the world tilted. I could say no. I could walk away.
I could stay.
Or keep falling and let him catch me.
I reach for him, desperate for an anchor. His tunic bunches between my fingers and I’m half-tempted to cling to it. But my mind is pulling me in every direction. Duty. Magic. The Reaping. The man from Larksbind I’m meant to marry when they win. The peace that union would promise. The kingdom I’m meant to protect.
All of it feels brittle now. Distant. Like a future meant for someone else.
“We can’t,” I whisper.
He lifts my chin, carefully—never demanding, only asking. My eyes meet his and I see the ache he’s been carrying. The devotion he’s hidden behind distance. He’s only four years older than me, but that’s not what sets him apart. It’s the grief in him. The depth of his restraint. He never speaks of the wound; he only keeps watch over what it made of him.
“Why not?” he asks. “You can choose a man from Starsfall.”
“It would mean war,” I breathe.
He gives a small, rueful smile. “Wars have been fought for less, Azhara. I’ve killed for you before. And I would burn a thousand kingdoms if they tried to take you from me.”
I swallow hard. There’s no fire in his voice. No posturing. Just quiet certainty. It chills me more than if he’d shouted.
My gaze traces the sharp lines of his face—the scars, the strength. The dark hair that makes him seem more menacing than he is, and the emerald eyes that pierce my thoughts. The way he moves like he was forged to endure and overcome. He’s beautiful in a way that almost frightens me. Lethal in the way he holds it all back.
He’s been my antagonist, my protector, my shadow, and my shield. I never thought he could be anything more. Never thought he’d want anything more. But now that possibility hangs in the air between us like lightning waiting to strike, like snowdrops daring to rise from the frozen earth.
“Why tell me now?”
“You ran. I thought I had more time. I didn’t realize how close I was to losing you.”
“You don’t love me,” I say, because I need to hear it.
His brows knit, a crease of disbelief drawing across his forehead. “You truly haven’t seen it?”
I glance away. “You’ve mocked me more often than I can remember. You hate the parades and formal receptions where you’re forced to smile at my side. And let’s not forget all the times you told me I wasn’t strong enough. That I was soft.”
“You were,” he says, not unkindly. “I needed you to survive.”
A breath leaves me.
His hand curls around my fingers. It dwarfs my hand, as his frame dwarfs mine. “I pushed you to make you harder. Stronger. Not to break you. Because I wanted you to endure.”
I don’t know what to say. I’m left sorting through memories that seem different now that he’s told me this truth. And gods, I believe him. Because Mallen never acts without a reason. Now, what was cold and calculated has also become an act of devotion,and all those mornings he made me spar in frostbitten dawns take on an entirely different meaning.
“I didn’t know,” I murmur.
He leans in, presses his lips to my cheek with aching reverence. His fingers thread through my hair and a quiet sound escapes me. A whimper. Gods, it’s small and helpless.
“You deserve to feel,” he says. “More than duty. More than fear. I’ve never used or held your wants or wishes against you. I would die before I let anyone else try.”
I try to turn away again, but he doesn’t let me. Not with force. Just the press of his gaze. Just the steady warmth of his hand on the small of my back.
“Azhara. You must have known. The way I watched you. The way I never stopped watching.”
I shake my head, too overwhelmed to speak.
