light bounced off invisible planes, and the farther he traveled, the clearer it became: long shards jutting from the walls, tearing up from the floor, and hanging down from the ceiling like blades.
Flynn crept up to Tobias’s side. “Is that…?”
“Glass,” Tobias said.
Massive shards filled the tunnel, and the men congregated in front of them, wincing. “It’s coming from everywhere.” Beau’s gaze danced across the obstacle. “The walls, the ceiling, the floor—”
“You know we can see it, right?” Garrick said. “We have eyes just as you do. You don’t have to describe it.”
“How far does it stretch?” Flynn asked.
Tobias peered into the thick of the obstacle—nothing but jagged glass. “Far.”
“How the hell are we supposed to get through?” Beau studied the floor. “Where’s the instructions?”
“There are no instructions,” Garrick growled.
Beau sighed. “Well then, what do we do now?”
The men glanced at one another, waiting for an answer that never came.
Flynn planted his hands on his hips. “I’m sure there’s a way to navigate this. We just have to put our heads together, is all.”
“But there’s glass pointing in every direction,” Beau said.
“There has to be a way.” Flynn stared through the obstacle. “One of us just needs to give it a go.”
Beau wrinkled his nose. “Give it a go? You mean travel through this mess?”
“What other option do we have?”
“We’ll be stabbed to death!”
“Oh, quit your bitching and move aside.” Garrick shoved Flynn out of his way. “Bunch of spineless asses, the lot of you.”
Garrick inspected the obstacle up close, grabbing a shard and shaking it, failing to yank it free. He tugged at another shard, then another, only to recoil, his palms wet with fresh blood. With gritted teeth, he punched at a shard repeatedly, leaving his knuckles torn and red while the glass remained intact.
He spun toward Flynn, flushed and fuming. “Dammit, look what you’ve done to us! There’s no way through! We’re fucked because of you!”
Flynn shook his head. “That’s impossible. There has to be a way—”
“There is no way.”
Tobias’s stomach turned. Garrick was right, but he was still compelled to find a solution, perhaps amid the shards of glass, the floor beneath him, the wall.
The wall.
Leila’s stroll through the labyrinth flashed through his mind, her hands pressing at bricks. “Guys…”
“Fucking Lords. Completely useless.” Garrick pointed a thick, knobby finger at Flynn. “You know what happens to men like you in The Savior’s army? Released on the first day, if you survive at all.”
Flynn scoffed. “Please, save your soldier stories. There hasn’t been a battle in centuries. No one’s impressed.”
Black stacked bricks—Tobias had seen enough of them already, but now they were an obstacle in their own right, a puzzle he desperately needed to solve. He pressed at bricks indiscriminately. “Guys—”
“You mock The Savior’s army?” Garrick snapped.
“You do nothing!” Flynn eyed him up and down. “Look at you, called the Brave, and for what? Tell me all the brave and noble things you’ve done. Go on, I’m dying to hear it.”
“Will someone help me with this wall?” Tobias said.
“God, these look sharp.” Beau poked at a shard. “Has anyone figured a plan yet?”
“There is no plan.” Garrick glared at Flynn. “The bitch of a prince has fucked us over.”
“We could figure a plan, if this uppity cunt would stop whining,” Flynn spat.
The men continued squabbling, barking at one another like dogs. Like idiots. Tobias gritted his teeth and scanned the bricks, hoping for a sign no matter how meager the odds. Black. Black. Black. Each brick looked like the last, but he kept going, too stubborn for defeat. Black. Black.
Red?
A tiny red dot sat in the center of the brick before him; blood, paint, he didn’t know, nor did he care. He leaned in, studying it closely, except it wasn’t a dot at all. It was a crown.
A marker.
Garrick and Flynn were still in the thick of their quarrel, while Beau gaped stupidly at the shards—three useless men. With a deep breath and a silent prayer, Tobias pounded his fist against the red crown.
An eruption shook the tunnel, and the shards shattered. Shielding their faces, the men recoiled—Beau squealed nearly as loudly as the explosion itself—and the glass settled, leaving nothing but silence.
Finally stirring, the men gazed in awe at the tunnel ahead—empty. The glass had been reduced to dust, covering the floor like a layer of snow. Garrick and Beau gaped at the nothingness, while Flynn rested his hands on his hips.
“Look at that. What did I tell you? This is the easy tunnel.” He turned to