CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I went rigid, every inch of my skin starting to prickle. There was a gruff note to the breaths I could hear. Like those of an animal.
I swallowed hard. Whatever lived in this lair was quite clearly home … and I doubted it was pleased to find me here.
Very slowly and stiffly, I turned on my heel.
My lungs seized hard at the sight I found.
Gods. Over seven feet tall, the creature regarded me through a black gaze that gleamed with animal cunning.
Wearing only black ragged pants, he kept his bare feet planted and his solid chest thrust out as he held his elbows apart from his body.
Fear spiked through me, making my heart pound heavily. I’d been wrong. So wrong. There was in fact a minotaur. And he was staring right at me.
From his broad shoulders downwards, he was completely human with bronze skin stretched over very defined muscle that glimmered with a sheen of sweat.
But he had the muscular neck and large, bony head of a bull.
His mane and short fur were a rich brown, and his ivory horns were thick and lyre-shaped.
A low growl vibrating in his chest, he contracted his fingers like claws. A hard rock formed in my gut. There was blood on his hands. Fresh blood.
I didn’t dare move. Barely breathed. I didn’t want to do anything that might come across as a challenge. But that might be impossible, considering I was in his lair. Yeah, things weren’t looking good for me. Not when people who came across him never lived to tell the tale, according to Ajax.
Anger tightened my jaw. Anger at the injustice of it all. Anger at how I’d come so far …
No. No, I didn’t go through those seven circuits of hell to die here and now.
I parted my lips, thinking to make some attempt to reason with him. He’d once been a man, hadn’t he?
“Think of it as a past life,” Ajax had said. “This is his existence now. He knows only animal instincts.”
Talking to him wouldn’t help, then. Running wouldn’t do any good either—it would trigger his predatory instinct to hunt. Screaming would be the least wisest thing to do, since it would likely annoy him. It would also be pointless—there was no one who could aid me.
Okay … so I’d act as I would if I’d stumbled upon such a powerful apex predator within the Pines.
You weren’t to cower, flee, or confront them.
You were to show submission and respect, but never weakness or aggression.
So I lowered my gaze, let the tension ooze from my muscles, and remained perfectly still.
Another low growl skated through the air, scraping over my nerve-endings; making little bumps rise on my flesh. I didn’t hear him move—there was no stomping or lumbering—but I sensed him prowling toward me. I wouldn’t have expected such lethally silent grace from a creature his size and bulk.
Terror clutched my throat and overworked my heart. Still, I didn’t move or tense. It wouldn’t be enough to hide my fear, no—he’d smell it for certain. But he wouldn’t consider me weak unless I demonstrated fear.
Towering over me, he left only inches between our bodies. It was hard not to cringe when I could smell the nauseating rust-like scent of blood on his hot breath. Blood that probably belonged to at least one of the candidates, but I wouldn’t think about that.
Hot air puffed out of his nostrils right into my face, and I barely hid a flinch I was wound so tight. His body heat was insane. It was like standing before a fire.
He snapped his large hand around my throat and shoved me against the wall.
A startled gasp tinged with pain gusted out of me, but I determinedly kept my eyes lowered and my muscles loose.
It was difficult to remain still when slight tremors were running down my fingers; difficult not to put up a fight when every cell in my body demanded it.
Snarling, he went snout-to-nose with me. I clamped my trembling lips shut, trying to get my labored breathing under control. His nostrils flared, his upper lip peeling back.
Darkness rippled across the dim cavern as a pine-scented breeze washed over us both. The ground trembled, the air crackled, and sparks of power danced in the air.
What in the blue fuck?
The minotaur released me with a growl, spinning to face the new threat.
And it was a threat—the deadly intent was clear.
But I had no idea from whom it came. He apparently gave no fucks, because he emitted a challenging snarl.
The breeze instantly became a biting wind that swept him up and slammed him into a wall.
I gaped. Well, ow.
I almost flinched as a flickering ball of bright crackling light formed in the air directly in front of my face.
It floated away, jerking from side to side in the air like a butterfly.
I glanced at the minotaur, finding him weakly rolling onto his side.
My heart hammering, I followed the ball of light—a compulsion I couldn’t explain.
And then I saw something. Another doorway embedded into the wall.
The ball of light bounced off it and then promptly vanished.
Hearing yet another growl, I peered over my shoulder to see the minotaur pushing to his feet. My skin chilled. Shit.
I made a mad dash for the wall set within the doorframe, my heart hiccupping at the enraged roar that reverberated around the cavern. I rushed right at the wall.
And crashed into something that let out a muffled oath. No, someone.
Light stabbed my eyes, all but blinding me.
I squeezed them shut against the onslaught, hissing out a wince.
Several things registered at once: the taste of fresh air, the smells of sun-warmed earth and cedar, the feel of strong arms wrapped loosely around me, the ghostly stroke of a cooling breeze.
I lifted my eyelids slightly and found myself looking at Quillen. Outside. I was outside.
“You okay?” he asked as he steadied me.
I tried pivoting to check that the minotaur hadn’t followed, almost falling on my ass in the process. The creature wasn’t there, though.
“Anara?” Quillen pushed.
I blinked hard, my heart still pounding even as relief blew through me. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I croaked. “What are you doing here?”
“A bunch of us came down to help—some have to watch over those who exit while others wait with the candidates who haven’t yet entered.” He pushed a water pouch into my hand.
“How long was I in there?” I asked, opening the pouch. “It felt like forever.” I tipped some water into my mouth, swilled it around, and then spat it on the ground. I hated to waste water right now, but I needed the damn grit out of my mouth.
“Almost three hours,” he replied.
It had felt like longer. I gulped down some of my drink, thinking I’d never tasted anything so amazing.
He eyed me, curious. “Most people cautiously edge their hand out of the wall. You came racing out of it.”
Well, I’d been following a bright light that had saved my ass from the minotaur.
Something I was about to share, but then I reconsidered.
Because I wasn’t sure the Sovereigns would like to learn such a thing.
I could ask Quillen to keep it himself, and he likely would.
But it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to keep secrets for me.
“I heard growls somewhere far behind me,” I lied.
“Don’t worry, the minotaur can’t get through the door—it’s closed to him.”
It was a relief, but also kind of sad. I hated to think of anyone trapped in that place.
“Just for future reference, I am never stepping foot in those caverns again.” I was dead serious.
“You won’t have to. It’s over.” Quillen stepped aside and gestured at the group of candidates gathered on the grassy floor. “Sit with the others and tend to those wounds.”
Fatigue weighing down my every step, I crossed to them as I again drank from my pouch.
All were injured, sporting anything from scrapes and bruises to slices and broken bones.
They were also as dirty as I was, though they had clean patches of skin where they’d evidently cleaned their wounds as best they could.
The candidates were also all somewhat grim and subdued. I could understand why. While I was proud of myself for powering through every circuit, I felt no joy—the experience had been too draining, too haunting, too cruelly sadistic.
I caught sight of Lear propped up against a tree, staring at nothing. I made my way to her and—
Fingers curled around my leg. “Did you see Seneca?”
Peering down at Bevan, I swallowed, feeling my expression sober.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as grief tightened his features. “Right.” He released my leg, tipped his head back, and closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he bit out.
Beside him, Sable flinched. Pale and wide-eyed, she sat with her legs drawn up tight to her body in a protective position.
I headed to a spot near Lear and plopped my butt down on the hard ground. Neither of us spoke. I didn’t want to talk. Didn’t want to even think. I needed to just let my mind go quiet for a while.
I needed to not wonder what the hell had happened in that lair.
My posture tiredly slumping, I drained the last of my drink just as Talon squatted in front of me. Pleased to see him, I tried mustering a smile, but it probably looked more like a grimace. Not that he noticed. He was busy mentally cataloging each of my injuries, his face hardening to stone.
I should likely be mortified that he’d seen me looking a complete wreck, covered in all kinds of gunk and smelling amazing. But I couldn’t find it in me to care. It seemed too trivial a matter after all I’d just experienced.
He glanced over his shoulder and let out a sharp whistle that seemed to be the whistle-equivalent of Ajax’s name, because only the Marshall ever responded to it.
Right then, the male strode over with a small sack and handed it to Talon.
Ajax gave me a nod of what could have been respect and then melted away.
When Talon took a large water pouch out of the sack, I honestly wanted to kiss him. I wouldn’t, of course, because my lips were a mess. He curved a hand around my own to steady it and topped up the pouch I held.
“Thank you,” I rasped.
Hard eyes met mine, his lips pressed into an annoyed slash. I couldn’t tell what irritated him more—my injuries, or how much the sight of them bothered him.
Tickled by that, I stifled a smile and knocked back more water.
He dug a cloth out of the sack, soaked it in water, set down the large pouch, and then fished out a tub of salve that both disinfected and numbed wounds.
I gratefully held out my hand. So many aches and stings were making themselves known, and pulses of hot pain were rippling down the burns on my side.
Talon begrudgingly gave me the cloth and salve. He wanted to tend to my wounds himself like he’d done yesterday, I realized. I wasn’t the least bit surprised that he resisted, nor was I upset. Here in this context, he was the Order’s Cardinal, not a man I bedded.
He remained where he was as I cleaned and lathered salve on my injuries, only helping when I’d needed aid removing my boots. How the muscles of his legs weren’t spasming with the strain of staying in that same position for so long, I could only accredit to the whole immortal package.
“Done.” I handed over the salve but kept the now-rotten cloth, since no one else would have a use for it. “Thanks.”
Talon tossed the tub back in the sack, along with the large pouch. His gaze serious on mine, he gave the uninjured side of my neck a quick squeeze and then stood.
Watching him walk away, I again found my brain replaying the little snippets I had of him running through the labyrinth as a child. Had that been one of the ways the Sovereigns had gone about ridding him of fear? Or a form of punishment they had used, maybe?
I jolted on hearing a loud cough, still so on edge that my skin felt sore.
Silently willing my pulse to slow its roll, I exhaled a long sigh.
I thought about putting my boots back on but quickly discarded the idea.
The soles were wrecked anyway, and I’d prefer to let the air get at the wounds on my feet.
I shifted a little in a fruitless attempt to make myself comfier, knowing I’d be here a while. Only six candidates had entered the labyrinth before me.
“Thank Gods Xalbia ends with the caverns,” began Lear, her voice low, “because I could not handle one more thing, physically or emotionally.”
“Me neither,” I confessed, letting my head droop forward as I closed my heavy eyelids. I felt the backs of my eyes sting. I wanted to cry, and I had no idea why. Maybe I was just so tanked up on emotions that I needed the release.
As the time ticked by, more and more of the other candidates exited the labyrinth. Our pouches were regularly refilled, and lots of bread and cheese was passed around. No small rations this time.
Not much talking went on during those hours. Just some brief, whispered conversations here and there.
Though I was positively exhausted, I couldn’t sleep. Couldn’t even fall into so much as a light doze—terror still ran riot in my system, keeping my brain hyper. I doubted I would fully relax until I was back at the garrison, where I felt safe.
Eventually the last of the candidates appeared. It was Atticus. And I knew by his lifeless expression that he had in fact found Seneca dead within the last circuit.
A part of me felt sorry for him. For all his faults, he’d loved his sister. Losing a sibling would be painful enough. To see her dead would be another level of hurt. And to have to leave her corpse behind or choose to perish with her? It was a messed up choice to have to make.
He tried waving off the healing salve, but Keyes pressed him until the Phoenixian finally took care of his wounds. We were then all rounded up, herded onto wagons that soon after appeared, and driven back to the garrison.
“You’ve passed Xalbia—for that, we congratulate you,” said Keyes as we unloaded ourselves from the wagons. “And now you have a choice to make: Do you join the Order, or do you find a different place for yourself at Deimos? We’ll want your answer tomorrow.”
“Let us be very clear on one thing,” added Ajax.
“You survived the trials of the labyrinth, but life in the Black Tapestry holds just as many trials. That exhaustion you’re now feeling?
The sense of loss? The thirst? The pain?
The stubborn fear that won’t yet subside even though you’re out of danger?
You’ll feel all these things again at some point if you join the Order.
There’s no end to any of it. Which means you need to be damn sure of your decision. So be sure.”