Page 19 of Labyrinthine
The words boom like a god’s command. The courtyard stills. All eyes turn to the man holding death in his palm. Mallen’s expression is unreadable, but the weight of his fury is unmistakable.
There is no chaos in him—only resolve.
He lowers the man with surgical precision and releases him with a final flick of power. The man stumbles, collapses, and then scrambles back to the others, his face pale with terror.
The remaining suitors hurry through their vows as I accept their offerings. One noble. Two soldiers. None dares to meet my eyes.
Then—the final man.
He kneels.
He does not remove his hood.
He’s broader than the others. More assured. The set of his shoulders speaks of command, not submission. He speaks his prayer, recites the words, and then lifts his chin.
“Your answer, Princess?”
I stiffen. Protocol dictates that the suitor reveal himself first.
“Your hood,” I say.
“Your answer,” he repeats.
The voice is smooth. Confident. Mocking. And loud enough that Mallen hears what the rest do not.
Mallen moves. Quiet as snowfall, deadly as winter. His sword slides free, and the tip rests lightly—lovingly—at the man’s throat.
He does not flinch.
“She will not ask again,” Mallen murmurs. “Remove your hood. Or be removed.”
Gasps ripple through the crowd. Rejecting a tribute would be tantamount to declaring war. No one has ever dared.
I don’t look at the court. Or at my father. Only at the man who kneels before me, as he laughs. A slow, rich sound. Deep. Familiar.
“You are not the timid little mouse they say you are,” he says.
Then he draws back the hood.
And I stop breathing.
His face is flawless. Beautiful in the way a blade is beautiful—honed, perfect, lethal. His lips curve in a lazy smile. Golden hair spills over his collar like silk. His eyes, when they meet mine, glint with knowledge.
He knows who I am.
He knows I’m already afraid.
“My offer, Princess?”
I take a step back. My hands shake.
I look at Mallen.
He is still. A pillar of calm. But I know that stillness. It is the quiet of an ocean before it drowns a city. The hush before a sword sings, before ruin breaks loose from its leash.
He is beyond fury.
And the smile on the stranger’s lips deepens—as if he’s been waiting all this time for me to notice him.
