Page 66 of Labyrinthine
I pick up a book, letting my eyes scan the lines without absorbing a word. My mind is elsewhere. On what Darian said. On what he didn’t. On the possibilities he offers, and the flaws he’s trying to hide in his perfection.
When Mallen returns, he’s breathless and holding out my cloak like a peace offering.
“We’re going out,” he says.
I blink. “We’re what?”
His grin is too tight. “Your father agreed. Eventually.”
“My father doesn’t agree to anything.”
“I lied,” Mallen admits. “Told him it would make you seem more appealing to Darian. He liked my idea.” His smile falters. “Don’t ask what else I said. I’d rather not think about it.”
He steps forward and catches my hand before I can withdraw. His grip is too firm, as if he’s afraid I might vanish. I should ask him what he offered my father to persuade him to grant me this rare indulgence—one of the few times I’m permitted beyond these walls. I’m not allowed to roam Threnosfreely. Not unless it’s for ceremony, or the Reaping, or the bloodsport Mallen calls training.
“You used to smile on our walks,” he says. “You were free. With me.”
I almost believe him.
But when I say, “This doesn’t fix anything,” I mean every word.
He nods, slowly. “I know.”
We leave my chambers in silence. Guards shadow our steps through the gilt-marble halls, past the colonnades veined with ivy and ashstone, past the paintings of heroes from Starsfall’s past; the ones even kings bowed before. The palace feels colder than it should, like it knows we don’t belong to this moment. Outside, the wind bites against my skin, crisp with late-autumn frost. We stop at the top of the palace steps. The city sprawls below, dim and restless, silver torchlight flickering in the bones of its avenues. A hush gathers around us, heavy and expectant.
His voice is quieter now. “This is what today costs.”
The flick of Mallen’s eyes tells me to glance left, and when I do, I meet Darian’s gaze across the palace courtyard. A breath catches in my chest as the look between us lingers longer than it should. Mallen’s hand moves, brushing at my cloak with more force than necessary, his fingers tight against the fabric.
“I don’t coat my flaws in gold,” Mallen says quietly, brushing my hair back. “I’ve shown you the truth of me. Even when it cost me.”
Darian’s jaw tightens. He looks away.
“This isn’t helping.”
My voice lacks conviction. The heat of being wanted burns up my neck and spreads over my cheeks, and it’s not because they’re fighting. It’s because it’s over me. I’ve rarely been the center of anyone’s gravity before. I’ve never had anyone want melike this. Now, there are two of them, and I’m standing too close to lightning to know if I’m burning or becoming the fire myself.
A curve threatens Mallen’s lips. “Your father insisted on teasing Darian. Forgive me for taking a little pleasure in having you be mine for the day.”
He doesn’t sound smug. Just like a man trying to convince himself it’s true.
Darian watches everything. There’s no weapon on him now, but I doubt he needs one. He’s already bled for me. Already killed. He’s gauging Mallen’s every movement, not with suspicion but readiness.
Mallen turns, offering his arm. “Shall we?”
I take it.
The gates shut behind us with a shudder of iron, and Mallen exhales like he’s shed a weight—not the tension, but the audience. He doesn’t apologize.
He doesn’t ask me how I am.
He knows me well enough to know the answer.
“Glad that’s done with.”
I don’t ask what he means. The moment is brittle, and we both know it won’t take much to crack.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
