Page 238 of The Wishing Game

"I was, the first few times it happened. After so long, I got used to it and now I just ignore it."

"Well,Icannot in good conscience ignore it," I declare, fuming on his behalf.

His brows knit together as he tilts his head, his expression puzzled.

I shoot to my feet, sparks of anger humming under my skin.

"You." I point to the waitress. "Come here."

Everyone is suddenly staring at me, but I don't care. Someone needs to explain this, and I will not let it go until Ze gets an apology.

Ze gets up as well, hovering behind me like a shadow, quiet like one too.

The waitress looks right and left as she slowly makes her way to our table. Just as she reaches us, I grab the poisoned ice and shove it in her face.

"Eat." I nod at her.

"W-what?" she whispers.

"I said eat."

"I cannot," she stammers, looking at her colleagues for help. "It would not be right for me to do so." She feigns a smile.

"Is that so?" I plaster an equally fake smile on my face. And before she realizes what I'm about to do, I push my hand into the bowl, scoop the rest of the ice in my fist, and bring it to her mouth, forcefully feeding it to her.

She gasps and chokes. Most of the ice melts around the corners of her mouth, but I have no doubt she must have ingested at least a little.

When she realizes what happened, she takes a step back, her eyes wild as she releases a sharp screech.

"Dora! Dora! I need the antidote," she screams, scrambling back and tripping. She falls to the ground, her mouth open as her voice becomes little more than background noise.

A few other women hurry from the kitchens, one of them carrying a small glass that she forces onto the waitress's throat. But while they're desperately trying to save that witch, I turn my angry gaze to the rest of the customers.

"It's the God Killer," the whispers abound.

"He ate so much of it and he's still alive," one man marvels.

"We should do something. I heard he can't strike back unless he gets permission from the Supremes."

"I heard that too. He's only allowed to kill demons and execute traitors."

"He shouldn't be called the God Killer." One laughs. "He should be called the Lap Dog instead."

The more I hear their vile insults, the more I feel incensed on Ze's behalf. One glance at him, though, and he doesn't seem in the least bothered. That tells me everything I need to know.

Seven thousand years of being treated like this. He's...used to it. He finds it normal.

"How the hell can you stand by and watch these people try to kill him?"

A gaggle of laughter erupts in the crowd.

"Good riddance," one scoffs from the back.

"You..."

"Do not get angry on my behalf. It is not worth it, Luce. We should leave," Ze whispers as he places his hands on my shoulders.

I clench my hands into fists. The laughter intensifies, as do the mocking words.

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