Page 19 of A Kiss From Death
“And why is that?” It’s an honest question. I want to know because I’m interested, not simply to gain information on an opponent for once.
“To finally rid myself of them if I lose. Or, to finally add meaning to my existence in my family’s eyes if I win.” She states it so plainly, as if it’s been ingrained in her head since birth. Maybe it has.
“I still don’t understand.”
“And here I was, relying on you to bring brains to the game as a potential ally.” She giggles shyly to herself then abruptly slaps a hand over her mouth in shock. “Sorry, I didn’t realize I said that out loud.” She shakes her head like she’s mad at herself. “Flowers, Ray, already making enemies for yourself.” She talks to herself in a whisper I can barely hear.
Here I am, making friends with another psycho who talks to herself, Empress save me. This one seems a little shyer than Des, though.
“Anyways, long story short, my family has forced me to enter my name in the Reaper Crucible. Well, if I wanted to keep living under their roof, that is. Never thought I would get picked, though. Guess that’s just one more thing about me to add to the difference list–”
“Unique,” I cut her off.
“Huh?”
“You are unique, not different. They are two very different things.”
“Hmmmm…” She ponders the thought like it’s never occurred to her. “Maybe in another world, but not this one.” She huffs. “Anyways, either I die and they have one less mouth to feed, one less daughter corrupting their household, or I win and finally bring honor to our family. I dream of the day they talk about my bravery rather than my difference.” She looks mesmerized by the thought.
“Ahh, yes,dreams. What a terrible motivator for hope that is.” The woman’s haunting voice slithers up the back of my spine, skittering into my ears like snakes. No, not a woman—theEmpress. I steel my spine, and the flowers and butterflies melt away as reality comes sweeping back in.
She storms in, commanding the room with a snap of her fingers. All eyes are trained on her as we stand, the symbol of our very being, the hand that feeds and commands our every move. She gives us what she wants and takes as she pleases, a force to be reckoned with.
She glides across the floor like a wind storm to the head of the table, where her larger-than-life chair is perched, awaiting her arrival. Either she has more than one throne, or she had her workers drag it in here for the occasion. I wouldn’t doubt that; she has always been one to show her wealth and power when possible.
Straining my eyes, I peer down the length of the oversized table to where she now stands beside her throne, awaiting our gratitude. She’s draped in all red, twin to her flaming red locks floating down her back. Her hair reminds me of the brightest embers floating about a fire. She has it styled in long, loose curls reaching her hips.
I try to stray my gaze from her in submission, but her glowing orbs are like magnets for mine. They glow a bright orange, like twin flames swirling inside them. Her features are sharp to match her disposition. Her skin is warm in tone to match the rest of her. Freckles dance about her skin like sparks igniting across it.
The room has raised in temperature by a few degrees from the outfit accentuating her every curve. Blood red leather is sucked around her in a skin-tight, strapless, floor length dress. It hugs her body before it flares out from her knees to the floor. Every inch of her dress is lit by flames licking at the air.
I assume this illusion is due to magic, since she isn’t screaming in pain, but it still radiates slight heat in warning. She clears her throat in greeting. “Welcome to the start of your destiny, however short or long it may be. Let the annual Reaper Crucible commence.”
I imagine an evil laugh ringing through her head at the prospect of fresh blood being spilled for her entertainment. She is sick and twisted, everything I do not want to be in life. Once I take out my competitors, maybe I’ll take her out as a victory lap. Let the hand that feeds us poison get a taste of her own medicine.
We all bow, and she smiles at our compliance. “You may be seated.”
The sound of chairs dragging across the floorboards ring out around us as we all shuffle back into our seats. “Feast and celebrate tonight, but tomorrow, your training and ranking begins. Oh, and one more thing: Ihatebeing disappointed.” She claps her hands, and servers flood in from every direction, carrying more trays laden with smoky meats, colorful fruit, and potent-smelling drinks.
My eyes track every new slice of heaven. I stack one of everything on my plate like a starved stray saving rations for the future. I guess, in a way, I am; I have never seen this much food in a single area at one time. It makes my stomach turn in guilt and fury that all this food is being thrown around for party tricks while innocent people and children are starving on the streets of Vagrant.
Suddenly, I have no appetite at all. I shove my full plate slightly in front of me so I can rest my elbows on the table, planting my knuckles under my chin. Humming to myself, I push the food around on my plate with my fork to blend in with my surroundings.
Time goes by in a blur, with shouts and laughs and cheers swirling around me like a tornado. I’m zoned out thinking about what Theo would think of all this when I feel a small tap on my shoulder.
“Are you going to eat that?” Ray points to the bubbling pink pastry sitting on my plate. “It’s just… It looks really good, and, uh…all of them were gone before I got the chance to grab one.” She sounds hesitant, like this is the first time she has asked anyone for something.
There’s fear of rejection glimmering in her eyes that I assume stems from her home life. If I can stoke her with a little more self-assurance by this simple act of kindness, maybe it will grace me with some good karma as well. It’s a win-win.
“By all means, it’s yours.” I throw her a simple smile and shove my plate her way. The smile that spreads across her face could rival the sun, the embodiment of her name.
The innocent encounter is cut short by a calloused hand slamming down on my plate.
What the Empress!
“She needs to eat her own food. There is plenty still left for you to pick on,” Hade growls out at Ray, living up to his Cardinal rumors.
Ray gasps in shock and fear, stealing her hand back. “Flowers, sorry,” she chokes out. In an instant, all the confidence starting to light up her face disappears. I’m getting really sick and tired of men putting their damn hands where they don’t belong.
