Page 94 of Labyrinthine
“I’m sorry, Azhara. I know you care for him. But he’s not who you think he is.”
“He wouldn’t hurt me,” I whisper.
“He doesn’t need to,” Darian replies. “He just needs tomarryyou.”
Everything inside me breaks. I leap to my feet, reeling. The clearing is too small. The trees are too close. My thoughts too loud.
“You’re the same,” I snap. “If he wants the throne, so do you.”
Darian rises slowly, hands open. “I don’t need your throne. I have my own. Please, just listen?—”
But I’m already shaking my head, tears stinging my eyes. I scream at him to leave me alone. I don’t know who’s lying. I don’t know what’s true. But IknowI can’t bear this anymore.
“Don’t follow me,” I say without turning.
“Azhara—”
“You think if you repeat it enough, I’ll believe you?” I keep walking. “That if you sound calm and sorry and noble, I’ll ignore everything else?”
His footsteps crunch behind me, slow and careful.
“I don’t want Starsfall,” he says. “I want it to survive.”
“You meanyouwant to survive.”
He doesn’t answer right away. I feel him just behind me now, matching my pace.
I stop suddenly and turn to face him. “You’re all the same. You act like it’s about protecting me. About saving the realm. But it’s always power. Always strategy. And the only thing that ever changes is who’s holding the prison key.”
His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t raise his voice. “I’m not asking you to trust me. Just to see him clearly.”
“Ido,” I snap. “You think because you’ve known him for a few weeks that you know him better than I do? He’s known me since I was a child. Trained me since I was ten. He taught me everything I know.”
“Exactly,” Darian says.
That word stops me cold.
“What?”
“If you were meant to be hidden—if your father wanted you out of the game—why train you to fight? Why sharpen you into a weapon if he doesn’t plan to use you?”
My mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
Darian takes a step closer. Not threatening. Just...present.
“You don’t forge a sword and then bury it,” he says. “You draw it when you’re ready to strike.”
My lungs burn. My thoughts stumble, catch, refuse to land. He’s not talking about my father. Not anymore.
He nods once. “You’ve survived. You’ve grown strong. And when the moment comes, he’ll have someone the realm trusts. Respects. Loves.”
A doll dressed in armor. A crown on a leash.
“No,” I say, because I refuse to let it be true.
I turn from him again, spine straight, steps clean. My face burns and my throat tightens, but my pace is steady. The wind catches strands of my hair and drags them into my mouth. I don’t push them away. I don’t break stride.
Behind me, Darian’s voice comes quieter now. “You said it yourself—he taught you everything. That means he knew exactly what you were becoming. What you were capable of.”
