Nineteen men, including Tobias, dangled from vines or clung to the walls—a fleeting comfort given their pathetic circumstances. Before his nerves could take over, he spotted a glimmer of hope yards away—the remainder of the stone floor.
“What now?” Milo asked.
The vines stirred; the men at the head of the pack swung from vine to vine, working their way toward the extension of the tunnel. A single vine loomed just within reach of Tobias, and with a wince, he lunged for it.
Tobias swung from side to side, still stable, still alive. His nervous energy ebbed, and he offered Milo a nod, gesturing for him to follow.
The two leapt from one vine to the next, their palms bloodied, their fingers worn. Finally Tobias grabbed at the last vine, oscillating his body before launching himself toward the floor.
Solid ground. It was a relief he hadn’t expected, the stone underfoot his greatest comfort. Milo touched down beside him, struggling to maintain his breathing.
“That wasn’t so bad,” he panted.
As the stragglers reached safety, Tobias eyed the path ahead. The tunnel in front of him disappeared under a blanket of fog, and his relief dissolved once he spotted another red word scrawled along the floor.
CAREFUL
A few men ventured toward the fog, peering through it before diving in. All of Tobias’s impulses screamed for him to retreat, to swing back across the vines and escape the labyrinth entirely, but he resisted, gritting his teeth as he headed into the wall of mist.
Grey surrounded him, clinging to him like a warm, wet coat. Each step he took was slow and cautious, as the fog had become a blindfold, giving that single red word the utmost power: careful. He held out his hands, ready to catch whoever or whatever might hurtle his way, and his muscles tightened when something sharp pricked his palm. He ran his fingers along its surface—hard and rough, like the bark of a tree—and then a sting pierced his ribs, leaving his skin wet with blood.
“Tobias? Tobias, where the hell are you?”
Milo shouted somewhere behind him, but Tobias wasn’t listening. The mist was dispersing, and he strained to see through its haze.
“Tobias?” Milo said. “Bloody hell, I can’t see a damn thing in here.”
Just as Milo reached his side, Tobias stuck out his arm, stopping him.
“Good God, you scared me—”
“Milo.” Tobias cocked his chin at the path ahead. “Look.”
The fog thinned, revealing a stretch of tunnel filled from floor to ceiling with even more vines—except they were enormous, with massive thorns jutting from their skin like drawn swords.
Tobias turned to Milo, his gaze stern. “Be. Careful.”
The two traveled through the forest of thorns, a tedious journey, and no matter his efforts, Tobias’s ribs were perpetually stabbed and sliced. Time passed slowly, and though he tried to keep steady, the sound of voices threatened his focus. A group paces ahead was absorbed in conversation; the Adonis was instantly recognizable, his chiseled jaw synonymous with the wailing of women, but the other two were hazy in his mind. One was strapping with long blond locks, the other lean with intricate designs shaved into his hair. The Regal and the Noble. Three Lords, men of coin and beauty.
Men who can’t shut the hell up.
“Can you believe it?” The Adonis tilted his head beneath a thorn. “That entire ceremony, and not one glance at The Savior. We risk our lives, and nothing.”
“You speak the truth, good man.” The Regal slapped him across the back. “We deserve more than a glance. We deserve a good fuck just for being here.”
The Adonis chuckled. “Oh, you’re foul.”
“At least a firm grip of Her tits.”
“I’m telling you, She’s fat,” the Noble said. “That’s why we didn’t see Her at the ceremony. She’s fat!”
The Adonis furrowed his brow. “She can’t be fat. She’s The Savior.”
“Does The Savior not eat?” the Noble grumbled under his breath, ducking low to dodge a thorn. “Good ole Brontes is keeping Her hidden so none of us would run off before the tournament began.”
The Adonis shook his head. “I don’t buy it for a second.”
“She’s fat. I’d put coin on it.”
“Doesn’t matter,” the Regal said. “Fat, skinny, I’ll take Her. She’s The Savior. Imagine your cock in the most divine cunt in the world. The fucking must be incredible!”
“Is that why you’re here? For the fucking?” The Noble laughed. “Is this the only way you can manage to wet your cock?”
“Oh piss off, you know I pull more cunt than you do.”