Chapter 67: One Rope, One Panther, One Very Good Idea

Mirabelle stared for several seconds.

Then a smile slowly spread across her face.

"Oh, we’re definitely going that way."

Silas sighed.

Somehow he already knew that tone.

And somehow it always meant she was up to something.

The panther adjusted her slightly higher on his back and followed her directions without complaint.

"Left."

A few steps later: "Right."

Then another turn.

And another.

The passageway grew narrower the deeper they went.

The walls on either side rose higher and higher until they blocked most of the evening sky. The sounds of the arena became muffled here. The cheers of spectators reached them only as distant echoes.

Occasionally Mirabelle heard voices from other competitors somewhere beyond the maze walls.

A curse.

A startled scream.

The splash of water.

Somewhere a female was laughing.

Apparently someone else had just fallen into a pool.

Silas commented on the sounds around them:

"Sounds like the others weren’t quite as fortunate in their choice of Beastman as you were."

Mirabelle grinned.

"Don’t get overconfident."

"I wasn’t."

"You absolutely were."

Silas remained silent.

Which was basically an admission.

Mirabelle had long since stopped directing him only with words.

At some point she had discovered that guiding his hand was much easier.

Whenever she tilted his wrist slightly left, he adjusted immediately.

Whenever she pushed gently right, he reacted before she even finished speaking.

It almost felt unfair.

The panther understood her frighteningly well.

The excited beat of her own heart still hadn’t completely settled.

Neither had his.

Eventually another corridor opened before them.

They followed it around one final corner.

Mirabelle blinked.

A dead end.

The stone wall rose directly in front of them.

"...What?"

Silas immediately slowed.

"What happened?"

Mirabelle stared.

Then she explained.

The pathway simply ended.

No door.

No opening.

No hidden mechanism.

Nothing.

For several moments she wondered whether she had just led them into a trap.

Then her gaze drifted upward.

"Oh."

"What?"

"There is a rope."

Silas tilted his head slightly.

"A rope?"

"Above us."

A pause.

Then another.

"...Is that the obstacle?"

"I think so."

Silence.

Then:

"Do you think I can’t climb a rope with you on my back?"

Mirabelle immediately regretted her next words.

"I mean..."

The panther looked deeply offended.

Which was impressive for a man wearing a blindfold.

"I was merely checking."

"You were doubting."

"I was assessing."

"You were doubting."

Mirabelle wisely chose not to continue that discussion.

Instead she looked upward again.

The rope hung several body lengths above them from an opening in the ceiling.

Far above she could make out the edge of a wooden platform.

"Fine," she surrendered. "The rope is directly above you."

Immediately Silas crouched.

Mirabelle barely had time to react.

"Wait—"

The panther jumped.

His body exploded upward.

A powerful hand shot out. The one she wasn’t holding.

The rope snapped taut.

Mirabelle yelped.

For one terrifying second she felt completely weightless.

Then Silas was hanging securely from the rope.

"Cross your legs."

"What?"

"Bevor my waist."

Mirabelle obeyed instantly.

Her ankles locked together across his stomach while her arms tightened around his shoulders.

Now both of his hands were free.

The climb began.

And Mirabelle suddenly discovered something deeply unfair about Beastmen.

Every movement caused the muscles in Silas’s arms to tighten beneath his skin.

His biceps flexed.

His forearms hardened.

The muscles across his shoulders shifted beneath his shirt.

He pulled both of them upward hand over hand with seemingly effortless strength.

Mirabelle found herself staring.

This was absurd.

No human man should be this strong.

Well.

Technically he wasn’t human.

Which somehow made it worse.

Below them the maze floor slowly disappeared.

The rope swayed gently with each pull.

Silas’ feet occasionally brushed empty air until suddenly one bootless foot struck stone.

The panther instantly adjusted.

"There is a wall," he said.

Mirabelle looked.

"Yes!" She sounded slightly apologetic.

"I forgot to tell you that it’s directly in front of you."

Silas grinned.

"Just admit it. You only wanted to see my arms tense while I climbed the rope using nothing but my hands."

Even blindfolded, Silas had felt Mirabelle’s attention lingering on his muscles.

Deep inside, the panther purred at the realization.

His feet planted themselves against the wall.

The climb became even faster.

Now his legs joined the effort.

Every push launched them upward another body length.

Mirabelle felt the controlled power in every movement.

A small part of her suddenly understood why so many Beast females enjoyed watching males train.

Eventually Silas slowed.

His feet encountered something horizontal.

"A platform?"

"Yes."

The answer had barely left her lips before he acted.

The panther swung backward slightly.

Then forward.

Using the momentum, he released the rope.

Mirabelle’s stomach dropped.

They flew through the air.

And landed perfectly.

Not even a stumble.

Not even a wobble.

Silas simply absorbed the impact and remained standing as though carrying a female through obstacle courses while blindfolded was a completely ordinary part of his day.

Mirabelle looked around.

They stood on a narrow wooden platform hidden high above the maze.

The walls continued on either side of them.

But from here she could finally see part of the course below.

And more importantly—

there was nobody else in sight.

A slow smile spread across her face.

"Silas."

"Hm?"

"I think we just skipped a lot of the maze."

"How do you mean that?" Silas asked.

Mirabelle leaned slightly forward, looking over the edge of the platform.

"We’re above the maze."

A brief pause followed.

Then she began describing what she saw.

The platform stretched across the upper part of the training grounds like a hidden route reserved for those clever enough to find it.

From here she could see almost the entire course.

Not all of the original participants remained.

Several had already been eliminated.

Others were still struggling below.

Mirabelle counted roughly fifteen pairs scattered throughout the maze.

One buffalo Beastman was currently waist-deep in muddy water while his female sat on a stone wall nearby with her arms crossed and a deeply unimpressed expression.

They were out.

Nearby, two lion Beastmen appeared to be arguing with their females about which direction to go.

One female was pointing left.

The male was going right.

Further away, a bear Beastman carried his partner through a swamp-like obstacle. Both were so covered in mud that Mirabelle couldn’t even identify which noble family the female belonged to anymore.

Several carefully styled hairstyles had long since surrendered to reality.

Elegant curls had become tangled disasters.

Hairpins hung at questionable angles.

Expensive dresses were soaked, dusty, or covered in mud.

One particularly determined mouse female appeared to be threatening her partner with bodily harm if he missed another jump.

The occasional splash echoed upward.

So did frustrated curses.

Somewhere to the right, a male shouted something that was definitely not appropriate for noble company.

The audience seemed to enjoy that immensely.

Even from up here Mirabelle could smell damp earth, wet stone, churned sand, sweat, and adrenaline.

The entire maze looked considerably less impressive than it had from the starting line.

"It seems everyone is suffering equally," she concluded.

Silence.

Then Silas asked:

"And us?"

Mirabelle looked down at herself.

Her dress was still mostly clean.

Silas hadn’t fallen.

Neither of them was wet.

Nobody had screamed at the other.

They were somehow still functioning well.

"...I think we’re annoyingly competent."

A slow grin spread across Silas’ face.

"Good."

"Good?"

"If everyone else is struggling, it means they’re less likely to catch us."

There was a brief pause.

Then he added in a perfectly serious tone:

"Also, I enjoy knowing Valerian is probably covered in mud."

Mirabelle laughed.

"That’s a very specific thing to enjoy."

"It is."

"And if he isn’t?"

"Then I hope he falls into something soon."

"Do you know him?" Mirabelle asked while her gaze continued roaming across the maze below.

"Unfortunately."

Yet there was a hint of amusement in Silas’ voice, suggesting he didn’t actually dislike Valerian all that much.

Mirabelle smiled.

"Okay. You’re definitely telling me that story later."

Then she pointed ahead.

"But first, keep going straight."

A grin tugged at her lips.

"We’re about to skip a few obstacles."