Silas continued forward.

The platform was nearly a meter wide and stretched across the entire maze like a hidden road suspended above the chaos below.

From up here, Mirabelle could see almost everything.

The muddy pits.

The water obstacles.

The swinging logs.

The competitors still struggling through them.

And none of them had noticed the shortcut yet.

A slow grin spread across her face.

"Oh, this is amazing."

"What?"

"We are so far ahead."

Silas looked entirely too pleased with that information.

The panther continued walking while Mirabelle sat comfortably on his back, enjoying the view.

Then someone below finally looked up.

A young Beastman in the spectator stands pointed toward them.

"LOOK!"

"Above."

His shout echoed across the arena.

Immediately dozens of heads turned upward.

For one glorious second complete silence fell over the training grounds.

Then the crowd exploded.

Cheers.

Laughter.

Shouting.

Whistles.

People pointed toward the pair crossing above the maze.

Mirabelle blinked.

Then she realized they were cheering for her.

A big amount of confidence immediately entered her system.

With all the dignity expected of a future duchess, Mirabelle waved.

The crowd cheered louder.

Which was clearly a mistake.

Because now she waved with both hands.

Silas could feel the excitement vibrating through her body.

"You are enjoying this far too much."

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

Below them, confusion spread through the remaining competitors.

Several females looked around in bewilderment.

Why was the audience suddenly cheering?

What had happened?

Eventually one of them followed the spectators’ gazes upward.

Her expression immediately darkened.

Another female looked.

Then another.

Soon heads all across the maze tilted toward the sky.

The reactions varied dramatically.

Shock.

Disbelief.

Annoyance.

Jealousy.

Mirabelle almost felt bad.

Almost.

"They seem upset," Silas observed.

"You can’t possibly know that."

"I can hear it."

A female somewhere below screamed something that definitely wasn’t noble-lady language.

Mirabelle coughed.

"Okay. Fair."

The cheers followed them almost the entire way across the platform.

Eventually the hidden route reached the far edge of the arena.

The noise of the crowd faded slightly as Silas approached the end.

"There are stairs ahead," Mirabelle informed him.

A wooden staircase descended from the platform toward a secluded courtyard hidden behind the arena walls.

Unlike the maze, this area was quiet.

The distant cheers became muffled.

The scent of trampled sand and adrenaline gave way to grass, old stone, and flowering vines climbing the surrounding walls.

Silas reached the first step without hesitation.

Then the second.

And the third.

Together they descended toward whatever challenge awaited them next.

The small courtyard was enclosed by a stone wall and bordered the castle directly.

There was only a single entrance and exit.

A doorway leading straight into the palace.

Apparently the area served as a herb garden for the kitchens.

Rows of raised beds filled the space, overflowing with every herb and spice Mirabelle could imagine. Bees drifted lazily from blossom to blossom while smaller insects disappeared between fragrant leaves.

Lavender, Rosemary, Mint, Thyme. Strange herbs she couldn’t name.

The air itself seemed saturated with spice and sunlight.

Mirabelle unconsciously inhaled deeper.

So did Silas.

The panther adjusted her slightly higher on his back.

"Am I heavy?" Mirabelle asked suddenly.

The question had slipped out before she could stop it.

For some reason, she suddenly felt self-conscious.

Silas snorted. As though she had asked something dumb as whether water was wet.

"I can barely feel you."

In the modern world she would have assumed any man saying that was lying.

But here?

And from Silas?

Somehow she believed him.

"Okay." She pointed ahead. "Straight ahead leads into the castle. But we have to avoid stepping on the herbs."

Silas waited.

Mirabelle’s eyes scanned the garden.

"Looks like we’re doing another obstacle course."

The panther’s grin appeared.

And so Mirabelle once again guided him through a maze.

Only this one smelled significantly better.

Left.

Right.

One step forward.

A sharp turn around a patch of flowering herbs.

The soft buzz of bees accompanied them all the way to the arched doorway.

The moment they crossed beneath it—

they entered a battlefield.

A culinary battlefield.

Heat slammed into Mirabelle’s face. Steam clouded the air.

Something hissed.

Something exploded.

Several people shouted simultaneously.

The palace kitchen stretched before them like an entire city devoted to food.

Massive ovens lined one wall. Rows of stoves occupied another. Huge cauldrons bubbled over open flames.

Kitchen staff rushed in every direction carrying trays, sacks, baskets, knives, vegetables, spices, and things Mirabelle couldn’t identify before they vanished into the chaos again.

The smells were overwhelming;

Roasted meat.

Fresh potato buns.

Garlic.

Onions.

Pepper.

Honey.

Fruit.

Smoke.

Herbs.

It was so intense that Mirabelle almost felt like she could taste the air.

For one brief moment she couldn’t even see properly through the steam.

Then—

someone noticed them.

A cook froze.

Another turned.

Then another.

Within seconds the entire kitchen was staring.

The shouting stopped.

The running stopped.

The chaos stopped.

Silence spread through the room.

Only the bubbling of pots remained.

BLUB.

BLUB.

BLUB.

Mirabelle wished the floor would swallow her.

Dozens of eyes were fixed on her.

She raised one hand awkwardly.

"Hi."

The effect was immediate.

The kitchen exploded back to life.

Except now everyone seemed excited.

"They made it!"

"Move!"

"Give them room!"

"Quick, open the door!"

Several cooks scrambled out of their way.

One elderly chef physically shoved two assistants aside before hurrying toward the next doorway himself.

With dramatic enthusiasm he threw both doors open.

"Through here!"

Mirabelle blinked: "...Thank you?"

The chef looked ready to die from happiness.

Silas followed her directions through the opening. Someone cloesed the doors.

The noise of the kitchen immediately faded behind them.

They entered a vast hall where several corridors converged.

The stone floor gleamed beneath crystal lamps.

Footsteps echoed.

Voices drifted faintly from distant parts of the castle.

Mirabelle looked around.

Searching.

Then she spotted it.

One corridor had been decorated with ribbons, flowers, and elegant banners.

The decorations grew denser the farther down the passage they went.

Her eyes widened.

"There. That has to be the ballroom."

The panther adjusted his course.

Neither of them noticed another pair entering the hall behind them.

Nessa emerged from one of the side corridors seated securely in the arms of her new lion partner.

Unlike Mirabelle, she looked as though she had fought a war.

Mud covered parts of her dark skin.

Her expensive dress was stained.

Her hair had escaped whatever careful styling it had started with.

Yet triumph shone from her face.

The lion carried her effortlessly in a bridal carry.

His blindfold matched his golden mane perfectly.

For one brief moment Nessa looked pleased with herself.

Then she saw Mirabelle.

Saw the panther.

Saw how far ahead they were.

Her expression immediately soured.

Something ugly flashed through her eyes.

Slowly she leaned closer to her lion.

And whispered into his ear.

The male’s head tilted.

A grin spread across his face.

Not a pleasant one.

Without hesitation, he changed direction.

And began walking straight toward Mirabelle and Silas.