“You fuckin’… bitch.” The bastard shoves me forward, one hand in the back of my hair as he sends me hurtling down the stone steps in front of me. “You’re not goin’ anywhere. And your friend is now the least of your concerns.Fuck. My nose. You broke my nose.”
A torch flickers, casting light across the tunnel—and the cells that line it.
I stagger to a halt, then spin around, but the tip of a sword slides under my chin and I freeze.
“Could be worse,” I growl. “You kidnapped my friend and I want her back. Your nose is going to be the least of your problems soon.”
Blood drips from my captor’s nose as he glares at me along the line of steel. His friend, a weedy little man with a long face and droopy mouth shoves past him, grabbing hold of the manacles they’d fastened to my wrists, hauling me out of the way. There’s something rodent-like about his appearance, and he seems the sort to latch onto more powerful males in order to elevate his status.
“Easy, now. Easy. Rhykus wants her alive,” he reminds his broken-nosed friend.
Rhykus.
The fleshmaster, from what I’ve managed to glean.
I barely caught a glimpse of the manor when we arrived. Only enough to note it was well guarded by what seems like dozens of armed warriors. Groups of eight were working together, another team of hunters going out whilst ours bought us in. A well-oiled operation, and clearly one that was planned before these men arrived here in the Labyrinth.
And inside…
The rooms were lush and lavish, an oddity for such a place. Red velvet curtains covered the windows and the walls dripped gilt. There seemed to be mirrors on every wall.
But that wasn’t the shocking part.
There were women everywhere; some gowned in virginal white gauze so fine you could see the crest of their nipples through it, some collared and naked as they knelt with platters to serve the menfolk, and some who wore nothing more than mesh masks clamped over their lower face and jaws as if to muzzle them. Something about them gave me pause, and it took me long moments to realize why.
Their eyes were as ancient as the black gaping void between stars.
Not with age, but as though they’d all lived a thousand years in the course of a single one.
My heart had dropped.
Because only twelve brides were sacrificed to this year’s hunt, and before me stood dozens.
“If you make it to the end of the Labyrinth unclaimed, then you are free,” Mariam had whispered, her voice bearing the scars of some untold horror. “But not all brides are claimed. And not all of them escape. And those that don’t… must find some means to survive in the Labyrinth between hunts.”
Kari trembled as they hauled us before a powerful man wearing a plain black linen shirt, with rings that glittered on all his fingers.
That was the last time I saw her.
My captors shove me inside the cell. I grapple against the man I’ve nicknamed the Mouse as he undoes my manacles, but Broken Nose hauls me off him, slamming the door behind me. Throwing myself at the bars, I try to escape before they can lock it but the key turns with an ominous click.
Curse it.
“You filthy savage.” Broken Nose spits again, pinching his wounded appendage. Rage ignites in his eyes and he snatches at me through the bars. “I swear to the Laughin’ God, that I will break all your fuckin’ fingers before we’re done here.”
“You can try,” I tell him, rubbing at the red marks the manacles have left on my wrists. “In fact, why don’t you try now? Come on in and give it your best attempt.”
Broken Nose pulls a metal-plated glove from his belt, slipping his fingers inside it, then reaches for the keys.
“Wait!” The Mouse squeals.
“I’m gonna teach this bitch a lesson?—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” comes a chiding voice from the darkness behind me, the low timbre of a stranger’s tone sending an unexpected shiver down my spine. “Rhykus wouldn’t want you to damage the merchandise, would he?”
Broken Nose freezes.
I spin around, eyes searching the dark for any sign of the newcomer who spoke.
