To Best the Boys(51)

“What the?” Germaine roars and rushes Sam, but Lute and Beryll jump in to stop him.

I scramble to Will. The foam is dripping from his mouth onto his neck and the floor. I tip his head to the side, so he doesn’t choke, when I notice the prick of blood on his trembling neck as if he was stung. I frown and peer closer at it. Then at him. His symptoms are very much like . . .

I look up. Rubin and Sam are rolling on the ground, and Rubin’s right fist is clenched around something. Lute’s already caught sight of it too because he’s left Beryll and Germaine’s squabble to dart over and set his foot on Rubin’s wrist, hard enough to warn him that he’ll break it. He leans down as I hurry over and bend Rubin’s wrist back enough for me to peel the boy’s fingers open and reveal a thorn as thick as my thumb.

“What is it?” Sam demands.

I hold it up. “It’s a thorn from the Sleeping Man-Trap hedge,” Seleni says.

“That was your blokes’ plan?” Beryll bellows at Germaine. “To take us all out with a thorn?”

“Gotta use what the Labyrinth hands you,” Germaine says.

Beryll steps back and gapes as if he’s forgotten how to breathe. He clenches his hand into a fist and looks about ready to take a swing, even as Germaine’s smile says he’ll welcome it.

“That’s enough.” Lute inserts himself between them.

I drop the thorn and Seleni squashes it beneath her boot until the juice runs out and quickly evaporates upon contact with the air, while I return to Will. His body is shaking more violently now, and I press on his pulse to check his blood pressure.

“Hey, Vincent. You want to help here?” Seleni says, and when I glance up she’s glaring at him and the fact that he hasn’t moved from his spot against the wall where he’s watching with a look of passive interest.

I start to agree with her, only to get distracted by Will’s weakening breathing and pulse. He’s having an allergic reaction—his throat is closing up. I elevate his head and look around for anything to use, but there’s nothing here to counteract it with or to open up his windpipe. “We have to get him out of here. He needs help. I think the poison might be cutting off his airway.”

I turn to Seleni. “Try the buttons again—punch in 1–9–8–8.”

She jumps to press them and, in a sweet mercy of reprieve, rather than a replay of Kellen’s voice, there’s a ding and the entire room starts to shake. “Nobody move, in case he’s wrong,” Germaine mutters.

Suddenly the floor is rumbling, and a loud metal chain begins clinking, and the entire middle of the far wall slides open.





17

Another loud clink resounds across the room, and just as Beryll gives a soft cheer, the metal wall begins to slide back down. Lute and Sam grab Will’s arms and drag him over as we rush to shove everyone through before the panel drops and once again locks us in.

The moment we exit, the whirring quickens and a gear clunks into place and the wall shuts with a heavy thud that vibrates the ground. We tumble to the grass, gasping and coughing and facing up at a night sky filled with stars, on a mountaintop overlooking a part of Caldon I don’t recognize.

The sounds of the festival in the distance slowly draw my attention.

I sit up and note the massive stone and hedge wall stretching behind us as far as I can see into the dark. I pause. It’s still dark.

We’ve only been gone a few hours.

It’s felt like days. My body is already begging to be done—not with the acuity test but with the emotional stress. Because while the first I’d expected, the second—not so much.

I peer around for Seleni and Lute, and instead my gaze falls on Sam. He’s looking around with an odd expression, which is quickly turning frantic as he gets up to search the area. “Where’s Will? Will! Has anyone seen Will?”

Beryll, Lute, Seleni, and I jump up to scan the hill. He was here one moment, then gone the next. Seleni walks over to me to whisper, “We’re not going to find him, Rhen. I guarantee Holm pulled him from the test.”

“Why wasn’t anyone watching?” Sam’s voice is rising. “We have to go back and—”

“He’s been pulled, mate.” Lute’s tone soothes as he steps in front of Sam. “Better that than let him stay and maybe die. If the kid here was right about his reaction to the sleeping thorn, your brother needed medical help.”

Sam sags back and his breath comes heavy as he glares at Lute’s logic. He pinches two fingers over the sides of his temple and holds them there—before he clears his throat and looks up. “All right then. But one of you better keep an eye on him—” He points at Rubin. “So I don’t kill him.”

Rubin’s lip curls. “Hey, it’s all fair—that’s the name of the game. Nothing’s personal.”

Sam turns to sock him, but Lute grabs his arm. “Let it go, Sam. He just knocked him from the competition—he didn’t kill him.” He glances my way. “Let’s just cool our heads a minute.”

Sam acquiesces but keeps his scowl on Rubin, who just shrugs and peers around. “Where to now, geniuses?”

Beryll points to the base of the steep mountain we’re on—where the stars are reflecting off a huge lake that surrounds what appears to be an island.