Page 58 of Courting War
Kellyn ran a hand down his face, staring at the poison mirror. It dripped green liquid from its surface, and its frame was made of skulls, crossbones, poison ivy, and multi-colored frogs. But it was stepping inside that was truly unsettling.
Kellyn, his priestess, and his friends entered a white void that felt like it went on for eternity.
Carved into the void were a marble table and a chair forged from strangler fig trees—the wood twisting together like the nightmares found in a witch’s dungeon. It was the only thing in the room save the statues watching in the whiteness.
“Welcome humans, welcome to our date. It’s the challenge of Poison, so let’s test fate.” Poison appeared in the room, her ivy-green hair pulled into an updo by vines, and her lips the purple of belladonna flowers. Poison’s umber skin glowed under the stream of light spilling from the white void. She was glorious, stunningly beautiful, but like all gods, she was terrifying. “Today, your knowledge of poisons will be tested.”
She snapped her fingers, and Morrigan was ripped through space and dropped in a heap onto the strangler fig chair, the branches twisting around her arms and legs. A second snap of the goddess’s fingers had branches and thorns curling up andcocooning Kellyn in place before growing over his mouth like a gag.
He couldn’t speak or risk severe injury to his face.
“You’ll play in threes. Cecile, you shall go first, and Kellyn, dearest boy, if you try to help your friends, I will take payment from your flesh.” The goddess’s smile glinted, amusement pouring from every inch of her body.
With a third snap, fourteen clear jars filled with poisons appeared before Cecile. No words were written on the jars. Instead, a visual inspection was the only way to tell what plants rested inside.
From the color.
Kellyn sucked in a breath and cursed internally.
“At the end of the task, you will feed dearest Morrigan one of your jars.” Poison’s belladonna lips rose with a vicious smile. She clapped her hands together excitedly. “Wonderful, you have three minutes to select seven jars.” The goddess’s voice hung like a black widow searching out its next victim.
“Shit,” Emmett said, staring at the jars before flicking a mournful gaze at Kellyn—he was the plant expert of the group. “Now is a time I ardently wish I’d paid more attention during our botany lectures.”
Cecile eyed the jars wearily. “Seven thousand fucks.” She tried to return her attention to the task, picking up a pot and examining it. “Are these berries?” She pointed to a plant with purple flowers and blueberries.
Nightshade.
“Yes,” Emmett said.
“What color are they?” Cecile asked.
“Blue.” Emmett ran a hand through his dark midnight locks. “I wish I’d been paying more attention in class instead of flirting with Lily.”
“You mean flirting with everyone,” Cecile said, moving a jar, her focus shifting back to the nightshade. “What are you?” She whispered to it.
“Nightshade,” Morrigan answered from the chair, and Kellyn’s eyes flickered to her with hope.
She knew her plants. Well, she seemed to everything.
“Tsk, tsk,” Poison clicked her tongue. “Naughty, naughty. You shall remain silent, too.” As the words left the goddess’s mouth, strangler fig branches grew across Morrigan’s lips.
“Which pile do we put it in?” Cecile asked.
“Ugh,” Emmett mumbled. “She said to pick seven, but she didn’t specify what would happen to those seven. They might be the discard pile, or they might be the keep pile.”
“Fuck.” Cecile ran her fingers across the lid of the pot closest to her. “We need to strategize.”
“These four are extremely poisonous, I think.” Emmett visibly swallowed and sorted through the containers, placing them into three nearly even piles. When he finished, he took three steps back, checking his work. He pointed to the left pile. “These four are the least deadly . . .” he hedged, pointing at the right pile.
“I have no idea. I can’t distinguish any of them.” Sweat dripped down Cecile’s temple, and she pinched her lips tightly. Her eyes were frantic and scared. The gods took her greatest weakness and turned it into a bullet aimed directly at Morrigan.
“One minute left.” Poison’s voice rippled through the room like a soft steam of water, deceptively calming.
“Oh,dirty pookas.” Cecile’s composure completely decayed, and she started moving the middle jars at what seemed to be random into the good and bad piles.
Anxiety’s claws gripped Kellyn’s back tightly. Cecile was falling apart and making hasty and terrible choices. She needed to get a hold of herself because she would feed one of those poisons to his priestess.
Earth sprites crawled out of white marble and swam around Cecile’s head. She was so frazzled she didn’t even notice.
