Page 159 of Labyrinthine
Marcus’s gaze sweeps the chamber, noting the nobles cowering on the floor. “What in the name of all the gods?—?”
“Stand down,” Mallen says. His voice is raw, smoke-rough, and scorched from shouting. He rises, not once taking his eyes off me. “Let them go. They’re not worth the trouble.”
The nobles don’t wait for permission. They scatter like frightened birds, their polished shoes slipping in the blood as they rush past our soldiers.
Marcus advances. “Fire stopped raining from the heavens. What happened?”
I don’t answer. Every breath feels borrowed. The crown I’ve claimed is heavy with every choice I didn’t want to make. My father’s blood stains the floor. I am not mourning him. I am mourning the girl who still thought she could leave. The weight of it all presses down, still too much to name.
So Mallen does it for me.
“She did,” he says, glancing toward me with awe that hides the sharper, ragged need beneath it. “It’s over.”
Marcus studies me like he doesn’t recognize the girl I was before. Perhaps I don’t either. I meet his gaze and say nothing, refusing to explain or apologize.
Mallen steps between us and shakes his head. “It’s over, Marcus.”
He stops. “You’ve looked better.”
Mallen glances at me again, and color rises in his bruised cheeks. “We all have.”
Marcus lets out a slow breath. The kind that tastes of smoke and memory. His gaze flicks to the crown in my lap and then back to me, as if he’s still trying to understand how I became the one to end it. I think he sees the answer in Mallen’s posture. In mine too.
“Tell me she’s making you ask for her hand.”
My chin lifts a little. “Obviously.”
Marcus bows mockingly. “You’ll do fine. She’ll make certain of it.”
And then, mercifully, he leaves—his soldiers trailing behind him, chuckling under their breath.
The throne room empties. Silence folds in around the pillars and mosaics, thick and final. I let my sword clatter to the ground. The crown slips from my hands. I sink into the throne—not with triumph, but with the ache of survival.
Mallen doesn’t move until the last echo fades.
“You scared the life out of me,” he murmurs, voice rasping. “I thought I lost you.”
“You were just behind me.”
He approaches slowly, his steps careful. “I was. That didn’t make it easier.”
I reach for him, fingertips brushing his jaw. He leans into the touch like he’s been starving for it.
“I’m here,” I whisper.
“I saw you ride into that fire and I—” His voice breaks. “Don’t ever do that again. You cannot go where I can’t follow.”
My eyes sting. “I wasn’t trying to leave you behind.”
He presses his forehead to mine. “But you would have. If it meant ending him. You would’ve died for this.”
I don’t answer. I don’t need to.
His hands rise to cradle my face. “You don’t need to prove anything. Not to me. Nor to yourself.”
“I don’t want to rule,” I murmur.
“I know. But you were born to.” His thumb brushes my cheek. “And you won’t let it change you. You won’t lose yourself.”
