To Best the Boys(60)

Beryll’s expression turns to his seventh level of appalled, which I’ve actually never seen. “Seleni?” he whispers. He blinks, then peers around, and his gaze passes right over me before it swerves back to land square on my face. “Miss Tellur? What are you two doing?”

Seleni turns to him and, like lightning, reaches up to grab her hat, only to discover it’s gone. She glances at me long enough to take in the fact that my hat is missing too, then straightens, lifts her chin in the air, and walks over to Beryll. She promptly pulls his hand from his nose and says matter-of-factly, “Rhen’s here to win obviously, and I’m here to help. Good thing, too, because look at your face, Beryll! Your nose! Here, let me—”

“Sel—Miss Lake! It’s fine! Please, I—”

His futile resistance is drowned out by a stomach-curdling yelp emanating from Sam. I clamber over to see what’s wrong with him, but I can already tell it’s his ankle. I bend down to touch it, noting the skin is turning way too blue too quick. He pulls it away but not before I see the sweat pouring off his face and the swelling setting in around his shoe.

I look up at him and Lute. “It’s broken.”

“Happened in the landing.” Sam groans. “By the way, good to see you, Rhen. You look like a boy.”

“Stop talking. We need to stabilize it.”

He grits his teeth. “No, we need to get movin’ before—”

Shouts erupt from the forest path just behind us as Vincent, Germaine, Rubin, and one of the four boys from the other boat charge out. They hardly give us more than a side eye as they hightail it for the spiral stone building thirty feet in front of us.

“Basilisks!” Rubin yells, and suddenly the ground is shaking and a terrible roar shreds the air.

Lute grabs Sam’s arm and swings it over his shoulder to yank him up. Sam screams, but Lute doesn’t stop—he just grips Sam tighter and starts to run with him as we head toward the others.

The stone building looks more like a mausoleum than a spiral from eye level—and as we spring for the single visible door, I note the wording etched above it is the same style as on the tent. But I must be tired, because my brain shuffles the letters out of order to read Dining for the Dead, which in the old language would’ve meant that either only the dead may enter or something is purposefully trapped inside this place.

I don’t have time to think more on it because a basilisk the size of a bloody whale bursts through the trees. His thick body snakes across the ground, writhing through the dirt faster than we can run as his beaked face lunges for us.

Lute throws Sam inside and shoves me through just before Rubin slams the door behind us, and the basilisk gives another screaming roar that echoes through the chamber, triggering a string of lanterns to turn on.

The door lock clicks into place from the outside.

“Of all the—”

“That thing came from nowhere!”

“Three of those boys disappeared just before it got them—did you see that?”

Shaking, I ignore Germaine and Rubin and check to ensure Beryll and Seleni made it through. Then peer at Lute, who’s eyeing the room we’ve just locked ourselves in.

Only it’s not a room. It’s a circular cavern carved into white stone, with crypts lined up along the walls.

Lute lifts his finger to his mouth and turns around slowly until he’s facing us. Germaine falls silent. I hear Rubin gulp.

This isn’t an underground sanctuary. It’s the catacombs of the ancient knights, and the writing above the door outside was a warning.

We have indeed walked into the dining room of the dead.





19

Our every movement echoes too loud. Too intrusive. Sam’s groans ricochet off the walls as sweat drenches his shirt. He tries to muffle them in his sleeve, but it only makes the sound of his pain more agonizing.

I turn to shove my shoulder beneath his other arm to help ease the weight on his ankle, and I’m about to help Lute walk him forward when I catch Vincent staring at us.

He takes in my hair, my face, and the dead man’s clothes I’m wearing. Any hint of embarrassment and shame on Vincent’s face for his behavior last night is quickly replaced by a curled lip and a flicker of suspicion directed at Lute before his eyes reconnect with mine. “Miss Tellur.”

I glance at Seleni and Beryll—the latter of whom’s chest is now covered in blood from his nose—and Vincent follows my gaze long enough to utter a sharp snort under his breath.

Sam gives another moan and Germaine hisses, “Would someone shut him up, please?”

Lute and I heft Sam higher before Lute points toward the only clear way out of the crypt-lined room. A narrow opening that leads to darkness. I shudder as Seleni whispers, “Beryll, I don’t want to do this.”

Whatever he says to calm her is between them, but Vincent looks at me again and purses his lips before he nods to Germaine and Rubin. “Let’s check the room.” Then he murmurs in my direction, “We’ll discuss this later.”

I raise a brow. Oh you bet we will.

The three of them move to inspect the circular space, but they won’t find anything. The crypts are old and sealed—as are the walls—and any etchings or grave goods that were here have long since been stolen by weather or ransackers.

We wait until their quick search is done, then follow Germaine, Rubin, and Vincent to the singular opening at the far side of the room. Whatever used to be covering it is now hanging in pieces of thick plaster from metal bars—as if something burst through it at one point and the architecture never recovered.