Page 118 of Labyrinthine
“You’re clearly not,” one says.
Darian’s eyes are wild, desperate. “Please, Azhara. Just let me help.”
I flinch at the word. Help.
“No,” I say, more breath than sound. “Not like this.”
I’m lifted again, too fast to stop, tossed up onto Darian’s horse despite my protest. My side slams into his chest. I twist, trying to slide off, but his arm snakes around my waist and holds me still.
“You’ll fall,” he breathes against my temple.
“You’re not strong enough to carry me.”
“I am.”
He nudges the horse forward before I can argue.
I press my mouth shut. The weight of his arm, the rhythm of the horse, the scent of dust and sweat—all of it crowds too close. I close my eyes, just for a moment. Not to rest. To pretend I made the right choice. Or that I still have one.
The gates vanish behind us. Trees whip past. The rhythm of the gallop rattles every bone in my spine. Darian murmurs words I don’t want to hear—comforting, coaxing, soft—and I stare ahead.
I won’t let myself melt.
The gallop slows as the trees thin and the shadows fall away. The horses eat the distance in silence, hooves pounding a steady rhythm into the dark earth. Trees blur past, and when the forest finally breaks, dawn stains the horizon in washed-out gray. The city lies behind us now. Its breath no longer on our necks.
But its reach? That lingers.
The others glance back too often. We all know it’s only a matter of time before the hunt begins. My father won’t stop. And if Mallen still breathes—he won’t either. That kind of pursuit doesn’t end. It only breaks when one side is gone.
The pace slows as the terrain flattens. I sag slightly, too tired to hold myself upright. Darian shifts behind me. His breath brushes the back of my neck.
“You should rest,” he murmurs.
I keep my eyes fixed on the horizon, but my body betrays me. My head tilts back against his shoulder, lids drooping before I can stop them. I try to sit straighter. Try to pull from his grip. But my limbs turn heavy, numb, and unwilling.
His arm stays firm at my waist, and I hate how solid it feels.
Sleep creeps in anyway, slow and inescapable. It drags me under before I can stop it.
The world tilts again.
Someone lifts me down, and for a moment, I jolt awake, fists curling, breath caught. The face is unfamiliar. The arms, unfamiliar too. Not Darian’s.
I freeze, letting the panic settle before it tips me into making a mistake. I know better. I force my breathing to slow. Force my limbs to stay still. My surroundings blur with movement—riders, trees, the distant whisper of the sea. We’ve made ground.
“You’re safe,” Darian says, riding up beside us. “You’re with my second. I needed to recover my strength.”
His horse keeps pace with mine. I twist slightly to see him, and the effort sends a jolt through my spine. Every muscle aches.
“You’ve been asleep for hours. Feeling any better?”
I grit my teeth as the man behind me shifts again, his thigh brushing mine. My body recoils before I can stop it.
“I’ll ride alone,” I say, voice sharper than I intend.
Darian lifts a brow, half amused. “There’s the Azhara I remember.”
He signals someone and a horse is brought up alongside mine. The man offers me his hand. I slap it away, glaring as I swing my leg over and transfer with more willpower than grace. My hands tremble on the reins, but I force them to stay steady. I don’t care how it looks. I’m on my own now. That’s what matters.
