Making sure they were alone, Tobias glanced behind him, then pulled her close, giving her a long kiss. “Go.”
Leila hesitated before disappearing among the tents, and suddenly all residual thoughts of release were replaced with apprehension—with the fear in her eyes and the dread of whatever awaited him.
The servants filed from the sanctuary, leaving the men looking stately. Tobias joined his remaining allies, half-listening to their ramblings, but he couldn’t help but dissect Leila’s warning.
“Good man.” Orion slung an arm around his shoulders. “Are you excited to finally see the light of day? Maybe to smell something other than one another’s piss and shit?”
Tobias stared off at nothing. “Yes,” he managed to mutter. “Very.”
A portal materialized along the far wall, and in walked a man in white linens and blue drapes. The Proctor, except it was Wembleton who joined them, his round belly and unkempt hair repugnant. God, not this asshole.
“Gentlemen! Pleasant morning. I imagine you’ve heard the fine news. Today you leave the labyrinth. A momentous occasion. Your chests must be swelling with pride.” Wembleton rested his hands on his stomach. “Your task today is simple. You will leave this tunnel and make your way to the palace, passing through the Garden of Megaera.”
“Megaera?” Beau said.
“One of our earliest Saviors. The garden was constructed per Her bidding. It’s easily the largest in the fortress. Very impressive.” Wembleton twirled his hands as he spoke. “You’ll proceed through the garden, the citizens will cheer, and then The Savior Herself will greet you in the palace.”
Raphael cast him a critical look. “That’s all?”
“That’s all. Remember, walk tall. Wear your honor like a crown upon your head. The people adore the spectacle.”
The wall behind him disintegrated, shifting into stairs climbing up to the earth’s surface. In the distance appeared a circle of light, its rays spilling down the brick in a way that was foreign, even shocking to see.
Wembleton gestured toward the staircase. “Follow me.”
The men bounded up the steps, though Tobias moved cautiously. Soon the light of the outside world poured over him, and he shielded his eyes. Grass crunched underfoot, and the dry heat beat down on him, a welcome reprieve from the mugginess of the labyrinth. A breeze floated past, subtle enough to miss if he wasn’t paying attention, but he was noticing everything—the fresh air in his lungs, the song of birds overhead, the first hint of freedom since he ran barefoot to the pool.
Yes, it felt like freedom, though it was far from.
“Citizens of Thessen,” Wembleton shouted, “I present to you your final nine!”
Cheering sounded high above, and Tobias forced his eyes open, struggling against the sting of daylight. The brightness began to take form, morphing into lush greenery stretching far in either direction and curved walls made of stacked stones. Atop those walls sat clumps of bodies, their arms swinging wildly.
“There’re so many of them,” Beau said. “What do you think they’re saying?”
Orion nudged Tobias. “Look."
Tobias strained his eyes. Some of the people held banners marked with two handprints smeared into an X—his war paint from his arena fight.
“Are you ready, gentlemen?” Wembleton held his chin high and stepped aside. “The palace awaits.”
In the distance stood tall columns in crisp white, marble arches with foliate carvings, elaborate fountains spouting crystal water.
The palace of Thessen.
Tobias had seen it many times before from the hill of his village, but now he could perfectly make out the filigree, could smell the vineyards. He stood on sacred ground, closer to The Savior’s keep than most Thessian men could dream of, but the palace was still far away at the end of a long stretch of grass—and lining that path was a series of white statues.
Don’t look at them.
His gaze darted to the ground. He had only gotten the briefest glimpse of them—countless life-sized, winged statues mounted on pedestals. He curled his hands into fists, preparing himself—for what, he wasn’t sure.
Garrick shouldered his way to the front of the group, and the men headed off toward the palace, most of them gaping reverentially while Tobias stared at the grass underfoot. It wasn’t long before the statues loomed over him, and their sheer presence sent a chill crawling down his spine.
“God, look at that sight.” Flynn opened his arms wide. “Can you believe we’ll be staying in the palace? Sleeping under the same roof as The Savior Herself?”
Orion chuckled. “It’s certainly an achievement.”
“It’s fucking incredible is what it is. And look at these statues.