“You watch your words, or you’ll join the Cetus in death soon enough.”
“I don’t fear you.” The Prince raised his chin. “You’re an animal, a creature beneath men. And I am a man.”
Drake eyed him over, his silence suddenly heavy. Seconds ticked by like hours until Drake finally turned away, heading off through the tunnel.
The group walked on, the passing miles agonizing. Many of the men vacantly gazed ahead as they plodded along, and their blank stares shook Tobias—as did the size of the group, a fraction of what it was a day ago. He told himself to be thankful—that he was alive, that the emptiness of the tunnel was a gift—but the stillness forced him to feel the pain of his body, the fatigue taking hold of him. And when he wasn’t thinking of his own wretched state, he thought of Milo, because the physical tortures simply weren’t torturous enough.
The monotony of the labyrinth eventually ended. In the distance, streams of red ribbon in fine silk crisscrossed the tunnel like tangled string on a loom—their final obstacle of the day, as beyond the ribbons was a series of brown tents.
The sanctuary.
The men hurried toward the obstacle, stopping just in front of the stretch of ribbons. The Adonis inched closer, studying the streams of red almost hypnotically, lifting his fingers to touch one—until he froze.
NO TOUCHING
The words were sprawled at his feet in paint the same shade as the ribbons themselves. The Adonis eyed the strands of silk, then turned to his lordly lemmings. “Doesn’t look quite as perilous as the other obstacles, at least.”
He ducked beneath the ribbon, and the others followed close behind.
Tobias wove between the strips of red, each movement calculated—a necessity, as his mind was dull from hunger, death, and every other god-awful torment of the day. The crisscrossing silk taunted him, an ominous reminder of the unknown, compelling him to keep his distance. He stopped and stared at a single red ribbon, and in that moment he saw nothing but blood.
A whisk sounded through the tunnel, followed by an “Oomph.” Tobias’s gaze darted across the space, stopping at the Bear.
And the arrow sticking out of his wiry mess of hair.
He stood still for a long moment, glancing down past his bushy beard to his round stomach, which pushed against one of the red ribbons. His face twisted into a frown, and he grabbed at the arrow, yanking it from his skull with a wet pop.
“Ouch.”
He tossed the arrow to the floor and continued through the obstacle.
“What the fuck is that man made out of?” the Poet croaked.
Tiny holes lined the brick walls, deceptively hidden amid the mortar. A hard lump formed in Tobias’s throat, but he swallowed it down and carried on.
As the obstacle progressed, the thicket of ribbons became dense and convoluted—or perhaps Tobias was losing steam. His hands shook at his sides, his body so beaten it nearly rebelled against him, and the sight of the sanctuary had turned into a cruel temptation. Still he paced himself, moving slowly and with finesse, and if his resolve wasn’t enough to steady him, the memory of that arrow lodged in the Bear’s skull was certainly sufficient.
Laughter echoed through the tunnel. The Adonis and his friends escaped the obstacle, taking refuge in the sanctuary and helping themselves to the water. More men spilled into the sanctuary, leaving Tobias as one of the final competitors in the labyrinth.
Along with Kaleo.
Tobias froze, and again his hands shook, this time with rage.
“I see you.”
The Prince’s voice cut through the quiet. He wove between the ribbons paces ahead, gazing pointedly at Drake.
“You’re staring at me out of the corner of your eye,” he said. “Don’t think you’ve gone unnoticed.”
He was right; Drake’s unblinking eyes followed him, a shadow trailing his every step.
“Do you think you intimidate me? Do you think I navigate this labyrinth trembling like a bitch?” The Prince met Drake’s gaze with a challenging glare. “Well, I see you, Dragon. I told you once, and I’ll say it again. I don’t fear you.”
Tobias held his breath, waiting for Drake to react, but he remained silent.
“Nothing to say?” the Prince scoffed. “Are you too busy plotting my murder? Planning some spineless attempt on my life? You don’t need to answer that, I know you are.”
Still Drake said nothing, his ominous stare unwavering.
“Well, however you decide to proceed, I have only one request.” The Prince stopped in his tracks, his hands on his