As soon as Klara rounded a corner and disappeared from Mikhail and Zin’s sight, she broke into a sprint, tracing her way back through the maze. The only way to prove herself was by getting out of the maze first.

  Zin’s sudden hostility had taken her by surprise, and she couldn’t shake the pain of the betrayal. Mikhail had done a fine job of stealing her friend. The thought of her half-brother sent a surge of anger through her veins, and she put on a burst of speed.

  In record time, Klara arrived at the rope they’d left hanging from the wall. She rubbed her gloved hands together and took the rope. Fear clutched at her stomach, but she crushed it beneath the weight of her frustration and climbed.

  On reaching the top, she straddled the wall and studied the grappling bolt, recalling an old lesson on them. The bolt had three, two-inch collapsible prongs on the head, each designed to compress as the bolt shot through wood or stone. A button on the base retracted them.

  Klara depressed the button and shoved the bolt deeper into the hole it had dug for itself. The prongs released their grip of the stone and collapsed, allowing her to pull the bolt free.

  She carefully coiled the rope and slung it over her shoulder and pocketed the grappling bolt. Taking a deep breath, she stood, swaying slightly, and glanced down. Sovereign Sculptor, that’s far…

  No, she couldn’t focus on the drop. She could walk a straight line and that was all she needed. Klara took a step. The wall stayed beneath her. A good start. Another step and her arms shot out as she wobbled. The sheer drop still unnerved her so she focused ahead. Her next step didn’t send her crashing to the maze floor, in fact, it was almost as though she were on the ground.

  “All right, Klara, time to win this race,” she murmured.

  Doing her best to ignore her location, she pressed on, growing more confident with every step that didn’t send her plummeting into the corridor.

  It took Klara only a minute to reach the first chasm she had to cross, and, hearts pounding, she eyed the gap. A six-foot standing leap would see her across.

  Easy.

  Right… If she overshot, it was over. She needed to aim low and catch herself against the wall. Throwing herself into a wall would hurt—a lot—but far less than falling twenty feet.

  So, ignoring every fibre of her being that screamed at her to curl up in a ball and give up, she threw herself across the chasm—

  —and smashed into the wall.

  Air exploded from her lungs as she flung her arms over the top, scrabbling for a purchase. Curses, that hurt.

  Klara gave herself a moment to catch her breath, then scrambled up, grateful for the salve Idalie had given her—she’d definitely need some later for the bruises forming on her chest and arms.

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  “Hey! That’s Klara,” a man yelled from below.

  Klara glanced down, instantly regretting the decision as she nearly lost her balance. Alarick, Nika, and Maria from team two stood in the corridor she’d just cleared, staring up at her.

  Alarick unslung the thin cord with the weighted end and began to spin it.

  Klara’s eyes widened as she realised what it was. She ran.

  A thin whistle sounded behind her, and the cord wrapped around her right ankle.

  Klara fell headlong, her arms outstretched.

  She hit the wall and clung desperately to it as Alarick yanked at the cord, jolting her leg.

  “Where’s the rest of her team?” Maria asked.

  “Who cares? Alarick said, throwing his weight on the cord.

  Klara gasped as her legs slid off the wall, leaving her hanging by her arms. She needed to free herself, but how? She had no knife, and if she let go of the wall, she’d fall. Unless…

  In one quick movement, she dropped as low as she dared. The cord slackened for a second. With a mighty heave, she wrenched herself up.

  Capitalising on the relaxed cord, she continued moving, twisting her body as she threw herself over the other side of the wall. She hung there, the sharp edge of the wall digging painfully into her armpits.

  The move earned her a string of curses from Alarick as he tried to drag her back.

  Klara studied the cord pulled taut over the wall a foot from her. Just as she suspected, it was thin enough that it shouldn’t take much to fray.

  So she kicked.

  The cord grated against the edge.

  She kicked again. And again.

  “She’s trying to wear the cord down!” Maria yelled.

  “I know!” Alarick said. “Throw your weight on too, we need to stop her.”

  More weight tried to pull her back over the wall. Klara sucked in a breath through clenched teeth as the cord tightened around her ankle. It took every ounce of her strength to keep from being dragged over the wall. She tried to kick again, but their combined weight on the cord made that impossible.

  Sweat trickled down Klara’s forehead, and she fought to swallow the rising panic. She glanced around, desperate for an escape.

  Then she remembered the grappling bolt hanging from the rope looped over her shoulder.

  With her left arm, she squeezed herself against the wall, using her torso to help keep her in place. Then she let go with her right hand.

  She grimaced as her legs began to slide up the wall, grating her coat against the rough stone.

  Clutching frantically at her coat, she managed to grab the grappling bolt and pull it free. As she stretched towards the cord, the bolt came to a jarring halt. Confused, Klara looked down. Yutzi muck!

  The rope attached to the bolt was wrapped around her body—caught between her and the wall. She needed to loosen her hold so she could free the rope.

  Another jerk on the rope dragged her legs further up the wall. Klara’s left arm burned as she fought to hold herself in place, grateful for the merciless hours of training she’d put herself through.

  Klara shut her eyes. Nothing for it.

  She relaxed her left arm. Her legs lurched up and cracked against the edge of the wall.

  Dizzy from a surge of adrenaline, pounding hearts, and throbbing knees, she pulled the grappling bolt free. With the sudden slack of the cord, she twisted and tucked her legs to her chest as she rolled over the wall. At the zenith of her roll, she slammed the bolt down—

  —straight into her right ankle.

  Klara screamed as the bolt sank through the cord—severing it—and into her leg, piercing her boot and penetrating her ankle. Before she could remove it, she rolled off the wall and fell.