two walked for a long while, losing their way a number of times before reaching the entryway. The golden doors to the palace were open wide, muraled walls stretched stories high, and a stained-glass dome sat overhead, sending rainbows dancing across the floor. The tiles beneath them shifted from granite to a large bronze circle—a blazing sun—and at its edge stood the other six competitors, already in formation. Tobias and Orion situated themselves in the line, facing a long row of servant girls, their heads bowed.
A familiar chortle grated Tobias’s nerves. Wembleton stood with a lone servant, and he turned toward the competitors, wearing a cheeky grin. “Good morning, gentlemen! Feeling rested?” He didn’t wait for their response. “I won’t occupy much of your time. Allow me to introduce Mousumi, our servant keeper and esteemed member of the palace staff.”
Tobias recognized this woman—about thirty years old with black hair, tawny skin, and blatant detachment written across her face. The pool. She had prodded at his naked bits, and a wave of heat flooded his face.
“She’s here to get you situated as proper palace guests.” Wembleton turned to Mousumi, bowing his head. “I give you the room.”
He fluttered off, leaving the men with Mousumi’s chilly stare.
“Welcome to the palace of Thessen, domicile of The Savior,” she said flatly. “While you’re here, you’ll be treated as members of the palace residence. You’ll have limitless access to all food, comforts, and public rooms within these walls. That means there will be no sneaking off into bedchambers, rooms of governing, or other private quarters without express permission. A lack of compliance with these rules will result in immediate termination from the tournament, the means of which will be determined by our Sovereign.”
Instantly Tobias’s thoughts were smeared with blood.
“Since the start of this tournament, you’ve been declared suitors of our Savior, the one true Savior until Her divinity is passed. Know that we take this title seriously. It is binding. This means wandering eyes and unsound intentions will not be tolerated. Any questions?”
Silence spread through the entryway, and Mousumi nodded. “Right.” She pulled a scroll from her pocket. “Now for your task. While you’re all welcome guests in The Savior’s home, your current appearances are unbecoming for your conditions.” Her nostrils flared. “You stink of shit and look like hell. The ladies behind me will see to reversing your circumstances.” After clearing her throat, she read aloud from her scroll. “For the Dragon, we have Eos, Astrea, Nessa, and Shae.”
Four servants stepped forward, bowing and escorting Drake from the room.
“For the Hunter, we have Rosealie, Gaia, Jensen, and Melia.”
Four more girls bowed before guiding Orion out of sight. Tobias relaxed; the day promised to be calm, even dull, and he took comfort in that, as boredom was a welcome reprieve from the theatrics of the tournament.
“For the Artist, we have Nyx, Hemera, Damaris, and Faun.”
Squealing tore through the entryway. Four girls clustered together, hopping and shrieking like birds, the noise too shrill to translate. A second later they swarmed him, their faces red with excitement, or admiration, or perhaps lunacy; Tobias hadn’t a clue, but he feared it nonetheless. The other men stared at him in confusion, their faces fading from view as the girls dragged him away.
Tobias staggered through the corridor, nearly tripping over his feet. He could hardly tell where they were headed let alone navigate his way there, as smiling faces filled his vision, his ears ringing with chatter.
“He’s so handsome. Isn’t he handsome?”
“Look at his eyes, so dark and mysterious.”
“He’s a mess.”
“Of course he’s a mess, he’s been in the labyrinth. It’s no fault of his own.”
The air became clammy, ripe with the scent of honey and lavender. They had arrived at a bathhouse with tall pillars reaching toward the ceiling and circular pools punctuating the floor. The walls were a smooth vanilla, the ceiling a mural of the celestial bodies—a vision of tranquility had it not been for the babbling girls around him and the curious gazes pointed his way.
Tobias skidded to a stop at the edge of a pool, and the servants began working, sprinkling pink and blue petals along the water. A girl with long black hair nestled beside him, her hands clasped beneath her chin.
“I can’t believe we’ve got the Artist. I just can’t believe it!” She scanned him up and down. “Oh here, you won’t be needing these.”
She yanked his pants down to his ankles, and Tobias grabbed his crotch, scrambling to cover himself. “What the—?”