In a desperate, fear-driven movement, Klara clutched at the wall. Her fingers snagged the edge, and she jolted to a halt. A cry wrenched itself from her lips as the stone threatened to slice through the leather of her gloves.

  Without waiting to catch her breath, Klara scrambled back onto the wall, her right ankle throbbing. She braced herself and yanked the bolt out.

  It hurt. Sovereign Sculptor, it hurt!

  Klara sat there, tears streaming down her face and blurring her eyes, as she tried to will away the excruciating pain in her ankle.

  Raised and arguing voices filtered through the fog, and she blinked back the tears and wiped her eyes. The race hadn’t stopped for her ankle!

  She gingerly pushed herself upright and put weight on her right foot and gasped. No time to worry about that now. She wrapped the grappling hook and rope back around her shoulder and staggered away, every step agony.

  “Follow her!” Maria said.

  Klara cursed. She had to lead them down a dead end so she could escape. A quick scan of the maze revealed a path that ended abruptly as it ran into the wall of another corridor. Perfect.

  Already, blood had filled her boot and squelched with every step as she limped towards the closed off passage. She didn’t risk a look back at team two—not that she needed to, anyway. They weren’t hiding their efforts in following her.

  Team two saw the dead end, and Klara grinned at the swearing filling the corridor behind her.

  Minutes later, Klara reached the far side of the maze—mercifully without having to leap across another corridor. She breathed a sigh of relief. No wardens stood in the large open space beyond the maze. She was the first.

  Yefimova stood by the single door leading back to the Central Circle, watching her.

  Klara tried to ignore her as she puzzled over how to get off the wall. She looked at the grappling bolt. No, she didn’t have the strength to drive it into the wall. However…

  She knelt as she uncoiled the rope and dropped it out of the maze, then placed the bolt on the top of the wall—so the head pointed towards the centre of the maze. Klara gave the rope a tug, digging the prongs into the wall. It seemed secure. Barely.

  Refusing to dwell on what would happen if it came free, she carefully lowered herself over the edge, being wary to keep tension on the bolt so it didn’t knock free.

  Thirty seconds later Klara stood on solid ground. The cavern spun around her and she squeezed her eyes shut as she supported herself against the wall. Blood loss and no breakfast made a vicious team.

  A slow clap sounded behind her and Klara risked a peek. Yefimova. Klara struggled upright and saluted.

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  “Impressive,” Yefimova said as she strolled towards Klara, the casual movement oddly menacing. “A most ingenious solution to the maze…”

  Here it comes.

  “But I fail to see the rest of your team. What happened?”

  Klara cringed and said, “We fought, Defender, and split paths.”

  “I see. What was the exercise?”

  “Teamwork.”

  “Do I need to explain what that word means, Koskova?”

  “No, Defender.”

  Yefimova halted before Klara and crossed her arms behind her back. “I’m glad for that because I do hate having to explain what I mean.” She ambled back to her post by the door, leaving Klara uncertain as to whether she’d been praised, or scolded.

  Both?

  Klara waited, dreading what Yefimova had planned. She didn’t for a moment believe she’d broken the rules of the exercise and gotten away without any punishment.

  She lost track of time as she stood, striving to remain vertical while her right foot ached horribly. At least it felt like it’d stopped bleeding.

  Eventually, team two emerged from the maze. After glancing from Yefimova to Klara, they joined Klara and stood to attention.

  “Well played,” Alarick whispered from her left. Nika and Maria murmured their agreement.

  Klara hid her smile and kept her eyes locked ahead.

  Soon they were joined by team one. Klara risked a look at Yeger. Who—supported by Matvei—moved unsteadily, his eyes glazed. Clearly, she wasn’t the only warden in need of a trip to the surgery after this exercise.

  Now only Zin and Mikhail remained in the maze. The minutes crawled by before finally, they emerged. Zin shot daggers at Klara as she marched past and joined the end of the line. Mikhail avoided her gaze.

  “Well done,” Yefimova said. “Team three, you’ve managed to be the slowest team I’ve ever taken through that maze. And coming out at separate times, also! Perhaps I asked too much of you? Was working in groups of three a strain for you poor salagi?”

  Klara clenched her jaw. She’d known this was coming. If Mikhail and Zin had listened to her, they would’ve won. Easily. Instead they’d ranked the slowest? Would the judges on the platform above think the same thing?

  “Oh well,” Yefimova continued, sauntering to the squad, “I suppose you lot would like to go get some food now? You must be starving after that leisurely stroll through the maze. Are you hungry?”

  No one spoke.

  “You’re not hungry?” Yefimova asked, mock surprise tainting her voice. “Well, that’s good. Because there’s no time to eat anymore—you can thank team three for that later. Now, get your worthless hides to Borovsk II!”

  With suppressed groans and gurgling stomachs, the squad filed past Yefimova, Klara bringing up the rear.

  “What the depths happened to you, Blinov?” Yefimova asked as Yeger—still propped up by Matvei—stumbled by.

  Yeger mumbled unintelligibly, and Matvei explained what Mikhail had done.

  Yefimova blinked, a flash of surprise in her eyes. “A crossbow limb?” She turned to Mikhail. “Avilov, is this true? You used a crossbow to… punch Blinov?”

  Mikhail nodded. “Ah, yes, Defender.”

  “Well, well,” Yefimova said slowly. “Squad, Avilov has earned you your breakfast. Go. You have one hour. Demidov, get Blinov to the surgery before the damage is permanent.” She glanced at Klara, then down at Klara’s ankle. “Koskova, you too. Get that ankle treated. Dismissed.”

  Klara blanched. Her wall walking got them punished, yet Mikhail earned a reward from giving Yeger temporary brain damage? She glared at the back of Mikhail’s head, fuming as she limped after them.