final competitor in the courtyard. Mid-lunge, Orion stopped on the steps and looked behind him, catching Tobias’s gaze. “Tobias!” he shouted, “come on!” or at least Tobias assumed so, as his ears were filled with hissing, giggling, and utter pandemonium.
Fire burst through his veins, catapulting him toward the palace. Saviors trailed him, but they were slow, and God was he fast, hell-bent on escape. He hopped onto the fountain’s edge, narrowly eluding the hands clawing at him, then staggered down to the grass, breaking into a sprint. Faster. He flew up the steps alongside Orion, throwing himself into the palace and landing in a pile with the other men.
The doors slammed shut, rattling the floor beneath him. Tobias was a panting mess amid a heap of men in the same state, and he didn’t bother to figure out whose arms and legs were tangled with his. Eyes lingered on him, though these eyes were human—the eyes of servant girls. He paid them no mind, focused solely on his weathered state. On his survival.
Tobias mustered the energy to lift his head. A domed ceiling made of colorful glass loomed above him, tall columns with golden volutes lined the hallways, and walls painted with majestic murals stretched as far as he could see. Cosima waltzed down the corridor, Her long, green dress dragging along the polished floor.
“Oh, you’re here.” She twirled Her wrists, displaying their accommodations. “Welcome, gentlemen. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”
The men didn’t respond, still struggling to catch their breath. Cosima’s eyes danced across them.
“Where’s the Adonis?”
The light scent of fig leaves filled Tobias’s nostrils. He nestled deeper into his bed, savoring the warmth of the sun on his back, the freshness of the cool, soft linens beneath him. The chamber glowed, each golden embellishment reflecting the sunlight pouring in from the windows. Potted plants sat atop wooden mantels, and paintings of naked ladies hung on the walls in bronze frames.
Paradise. Not because of the paintings or the linens, but because this place wasn’t the labyrinth.
Tobias sat upright, then stopped short. At the foot of his bed stood a tall wooden easel, a roll of canvas propped against its leg, several long, clean brushes and a dozen or so jars of paint stacked in its crossmember. A childish excitement raced through him, revitalizing any part of him that hadn’t yet woken.
The door crept open, and a servant girl peeked inside. “Apologies. I haven’t disturbed you, have I?”
“No, I was already awake.”
The girl gestured toward his easel. “Did you see?”
“I did.”
“Gifts from The Savior. A token of gratitude for your courage.”
A fraction of his excitement dissolved. “That’s very kind of Her.”
“All competitors are to gather in the entryway shortly.” She pointed at the other end of the room. “Would you wake him for me?”
Orion lay in his bed against the opposite wall, sleeping so soundly Tobias had nearly forgotten about him. “Of course.”
The girl closed the door carefully, and Tobias hopped out of bed, making his way to Orion’s bedside. The man was still fast asleep, flat on his back like a burly corpse, and Tobias shook his shoulder. “Orion.”
His eyes remained clamped shut. “Selene?” he mumbled.
Tobias hesitated, shaking him once more. “Orion, it’s Tobias.”
Orion opened his eyes, staring hard at Tobias before smiling. “Good man.” He yawned, swinging his legs over the side of the mattress. “These beds are like clouds, are they not? A considerable improvement from those damn cots in the labyrinth.”
“We’re expected in the entryway.”
“Is that right?” Orion scanned the room, noting Tobias’s easel and the bow and quiver at the foot of his own bed. “Gifts?”
Tobias nodded.
“Interesting.”
“Interesting?”
“Seems a bit of a waste, is all. I imagine most of us will die before we ever get to use them.”
Die. The word hit him harder than he expected. He hadn’t forgotten about the tournament, but in these conditions it had seemed far away.
Orion stood, cocking his head at the door. “Come along now. To the entryway.”
They scuttled from their chamber, delving into luxury. Tobias had only seen a fraction of the palace, yet it still managed to feel immense, a vast life form that had swallowed him whole. The corridor they navigated stretched far ahead, a reminder of the labyrinth, except the black brick had turned into alabaster walls, the torches into marble busts. Servant girls bustled past, glancing at Tobias and Orion before giggling into their hands, and a flurry of nerves wrestled in his gut. Everything around him was crisp and pristine, and he certainly didn’t belong.
The