Page 131 of Academy of the Wicked: Year Three

"You stayed within me," I say, not bothering to pretend anymore. My voice is rough from sleep or trials or maybe just from the weight of understanding. "Letting the years go by because... you were afraid of the world outside?"

He considers the question with the kind of honesty that only comes when all pretense has been stripped away. His shoulders rise and fall in a shrug that tries for casual but achieves vulnerable.

"Your wickedness was never out of cruelty."

The words are soft, meant for me alone despite our audience.

"You did it to blend. To survive in returning to an academy we'd all forgotten. But outside of the school walls, through the years of my entrapment, your heart was the purest... a sense of safety."

He pauses, and I see him swallow, the motion oddly human for someone who's existed as passenger in someone else's humanity for so long.

"I knew if I came out...what would that accomplish?"

The question hangs between us all, requiring no answer because the answer is obvious. He would have been alone. Separate but unprepared. A prince without a kingdom, a twin without his other half, a soul with no body trained to contain it.

Gabriel nods at our silence, understanding in the gesture.

"I was willing to remain forever entrapped if it meant protecting your heart."

The confession makes my chest tight with emotions I don't have names for. He stayed not because he had to but because he thought I needed protection. My brother, trapped by the same curse that trapped me, choosing imprisonment if it meant keeping me safe from complete isolation.

"But now you have men who love you..."

He gestures to my companions—Mortimer still supporting me, Atticus watching with crimson concern, Cassius surrounded by protective shadows, Zeke observing with feline intensity. Each of them has proven their devotion in different ways, through different trials.

"And I guess..."

He trails off, looking back at the golden door with longing so profound it makes my heart ache.

"You found someone you wish to protect," I whisper, understanding flooding through me with the force of revelation.

Gabriel wants to save Nikki.

Not just as collateral salvation, not just because she's important to me, but because she's important tohim.

"I guess so," he whispers, more to himself than to us.

The admission seems to strengthen something in him. He straightens, shoulders squaring with purpose that's entirely his own rather than inherited from our shared form.

"I'll return when I need to."

Before anyone can argue, he disappears.

Not gradually but instantly, there one moment and gone the next, leaving only the lingering scent of shadow and flame that marks where he stood.

All eyes turn to me.

The weight of their attention makes me suddenly hyperaware that I'm still being carried on Mortimer's back like a child who fell asleep on a long journey. The position should be embarrassing, but there's something comforting about it too—being cared for without having to ask, being supported when exhaustion made standing impossible.

"Let me help you down," Mortimer says gently, already shifting to lower me to the ground.

My feet find the floor—solid here, as if proximity to Nikki and Nikolai's trial has stabilized this section of the labyrinth. I sway slightly, muscles protesting the return to bearing my own weight, but I'm steadier than expected. The rest, however brief, has restored more than just physical energy.

"Feeling better?" Cassius asks, his shadows reaching out to steady me without actually touching—ready to catch but not assuming I need catching.

"Much," I confirm, rolling my shoulders experimentally.

The exhaustion that had pulled me under earlier has receded to manageable levels. My bonds pulse with steady warmth. Each one feeds strength into me, not draining but sustaining.