Page 93 of Quarter Labyrinth

When I glanced up, his skin was pale. “What was that?” he asked.

My heart lurched within me. “I don’t know. I guess after watching the boy be killed by wolves earlier, I wasn’t eager to see someone else die.”

“But it’sLeif. If he dies, your world gets significantly easier. He’s your main competition in this labyrinth. He’s the son of your father’s enemy who has always wanted the Silver Wings for himself. He’s put a bounty on your head. Ren…he should be everything you despise.”

Clark was right. Leif should be.

Somehow, when I saw the attackers closing in, all I could think wassave him.

I hated myself for that.

That had been my chance to trade his life for Delilah’s fulfill my obligation to her and rid myself of the one who was actively making my life harder, yet I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t hurt him. He was stubborn and infuriating and miserable but I couldn’t kill him.

“I’m not a killer,” I said.

“You’ve killed to save me,” Clark noted. He didn’t say it, but I heard the rest.You’ve killed to save Leif.

I had no reply for him.

Clark dug out his makeshift hut in tense silence. He tore the vines away with more force than necessary, the strands snapping in his hands and scattering green tendrils across the ground. With each motion, his frustration grew more pronounced until his jaw was tight and his breaths were clipped. He shoved his pack into the space he’d cleared. The bag landed with a dull thud against the soil.

When he was done, he leaned back on his knees, his shoulders rising and falling as he sucked in a deep breath. The rising sun stretched across the sky, spilling golden light over the labyrinth, softening the hard edges of the world. But it couldn’t soften Clark. The light made a home in the fiery red of his hair, catching the strands like sparks, but it didn’t touch his eyes. They were stormy and distant, fixed on something invisible that churned in the space between us.

I dared not cross that space.

I never liked it when Clark was mad. It didn’t happen often—he was the steady one, the one who could find calm in chaos—but when it did, it was as if the whole world had to hold its breath. His anger wasn’t loud or explosive. He wouldn’t yell or throw things. That wasn’t Clark. His was a quiet, simmering rage, the kind that seeped into the air and made it thick, heavy, and impossible to ignore.

It set my teeth on edge, the tension crawling under my skin like a thousand tiny needles. It was the kind of anger that demanded the universe realign itself to his will, that nothing could be right until he was. I hated how it made me feel—helpless,unbalanced, and desperate to fix whatever had broken in him. Knowing I was the one to set him off kilter.

I crouched a few steps away, watching him from the corner of my eye. I wanted to say something, but the weight of his mood stifled the words before they could form. Instead, I stayed quiet. The moment stretched between us like a fragile thread, uncertain if pulling it would mend or unravel everything.

Clark exhaled, his breath breaking the silence like a stone dropped in still water. His hands flexed once, twice, then stilled, resting against his thighs. “It’s fine,” he muttered, but his tone betrayed him. It wasn’t fine, not even close, and we both knew it.

I shifted, unsure whether to press or leave him be. But his anger was magnetic, pulling me closer despite every instinct screaming to stay back. “Clark,” I said softly, testing the waters.

He didn’t look at me, his gaze still fixed on some distant point. “Just… let it go, Ren.”

But I couldn’t. Not when the seething in his voice twisted something in my chest. Not when the rising sun framed him in light and shadow, and all I wanted was to see the storm in his eyes clear.

Surprisingly, Clark was the one to speak again.

“He carries your dagger.”

His green eyes found mine, and a deep question sat in them, one I didn’t want to touch.

“We…traded I guess.”

He nodded like that was all he needed to know.

“I will keep my head low,” I promised him. “Whatever you tell me to do, I’ll do it.”

Clark was already shaking his head. “I should have known keeping your head low wasn’t your style. Go to sleep, Ren. There’s nothing more to be said.”

But words were left unspoken anyway. I would find them before I slept and make things right again.

I sank to the floor to slide my body into the hollow space I’d created and pulled the vines down to cover my body. I had to dig deeper to be hidden during the day, but it allowed me more space from Clark while I processed my thoughts. They were moving too fast to grab hold of, but I managed to wrestle them into something coherent.

Leif was a distraction. I’d seen enough girls get distracted on the island to know what it looked like. I’d seen Leif cry over his fallen brother, seek out revenge, and heard his sad story about not being loved by his father. Somewhere along the labyrinth, I’d gotten entangled with him. He’d pulled my heartstrings just enough to make me confused. But I could cast off the confusion. I could cast off him.

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