Page 46 of Courting War
“You’re simply jealous, Silas,” Love said, her hair flowing like pink diamonds down her chest, striking against her deep olive skin. “We all know your history with the girl.”
History?
From the corner of his eye, Kellyn glanced at Morrigan for a reaction. Venom swirled in her irises, and fury poured from her bones, her entire body stiff and ready for war. Like she wanted to purge Love from the world for mentioning a past with Fire.
Had they been lovers?
That wasn’t a normal reaction.
The god was no better; he looked like he wanted to strangle Love, using her hair as the garrote.
Definitely a history.
“I enjoyed the show,” Love continued. “It started disastrously, but oh my hellfire, it turned steamy. I wonder, boy, did you feel any sensations?” Love winked and glanced at his jewels.
Entirely inappropriate.
A chorus of eyes landed on Kellyn. Awaiting his answer. He didn’t know if he had to answer . . . and if he didn’t, would it affect how Love scored him?
A truly impossible situation.
“Oh, I'm dying to know the answer to this one, too,” Light said, sitting slightly forward.
A flood of heat hit Kellyn’s chest. His eyes flickered to the crowd where his friends stood with expressions of confusion lighting their faces.
Kellyn stifled a curse when he saw his parents three rows behind them.
Tribunals were public torture. Anyone could come and stand in the audience. After all, watching the Sacrifice was a sport. People gathered in pubs and bet on which champions would live and which would die.
“So, boy, did you feel anything.” This time it was Nefeli, and it felt like a trap.
Rose petals bloomed on his tawny cheeks.
It was humiliating enough admitting to feeling anything in front of the gods, but even more so in front of his friends and family.
“I—” he started, his blush deepening and his heart in his throat. “I—yes, I felt sensations.” He cleared his throat, his eyes landing on Morrigan. “I'm a man after all, and she is quite . . .” he cracked his neck, begging for absolution.
“Quite . . .” Love encouraged.
Womanly, luscious,tempting.His gaze raked over Morrigan’s curves, and he swallowed and eventually landed on the word, “Beautiful.”
“I think that’s enough,” Havyn drawled. “We should return to the point. I, for one, will dock points for the stone incident, but I admired how the mortal played the game.”
The gods took turns critiquing his performance. Some were stuck on his failures, and others focused on the game.
As they talked, he allowed his mind to wander, but a loud pop jolted his attention back to the tribunal as a burst of color lit the room, formed from enchanted fireworks that floated above the ballroom floor.
As nine bells tolled, numbers appeared, dancing like marionettes on strings and hanging from his name.
Morrigan snorted beside him. “The gods and their puppet metaphors,” she whispered. Although every god heard her, their heads cocking toward her like birds of prey, she didn’t seem to care as she continued. “Too predictable.”
Reckless, she was so reckless.
The scores were color-coded to each of the gods’ signature colors. Light: purple with a score of five. Nefeli: royal blue with a score of five. War: blood red with a score of zero—because she never showed up, everyone always received a zero from her. Death: black with a score of nine. Love: rustic pink with a score of nine. Festival: mint green with a score of five. Poison: pale yellow with a score of five. Harvest: leaf green with a score of five. Fire: bronze with a score of zero.
They weren’t horrible scores, but they also weren’t great.
“Kellyn Ellis, you have received an average score; therefore, the riddle to your next mirror will be of average difficulty.” Nefeli snapped her fingers, and ink pooled on his skin before curling into a second riddle. The words were in pure cursive and looked to be complete scribbles.
