“Stop looking at me.” I didn’t even realise I’d muttered that out loud until Coen and Rome closed the gap in front of me even more, blocking me fully from view.
It was good in one way, but bad in another: now I couldn’t see what was coming either, and I needed to know. I wiggled myself around a little, crouching down so that I could peer between a small gap. It took me a half a click to locate the gods’ table, but before I could make out any real details, a loud voice had begun to echo around the room.
“Please welcome these blessed and sacred gods to our humble halls. They are gracing us with their presence, and anything they should want or need tonight is to be theirs. No questions. For the sols here, you have made it through to round two of the arena battle, a round which will start later tonight after dinner, so for now enjoy and eat. But do not lose focus, for many of you will not survive the next portion of this challenge.”
And there you have it. The Blesswood motto: welcome to the academy, prepare to die!
Noise broke out through the room then, and I found myself being ushered toward a round table in the back corner. It was furthest from the gods, closest to the door, and it gave us a pretty good view of everything. Strategically, it was the smartest, but least aggressive move. Which told me it definitely wasn’t Yael’s idea. His competitive side would rebel at taking a position in the back corner.
Thankfully he had been outmuscled this time, with Rome placing a firm hand on his brother’s shoulder and steering him toward us. I realised, then, that I had deduced all of that without a single word being spoken. I was beginning to understand them better: their personalities and predictabilities.
As soon as the sols were seated—there were a few dozen around the room, along with the table of gods—the servant sols for the night emerged from the kitchen with trays in their hands. The gods were served first, of course, even though most of them turned their noses up at whatever was on the platters. Abil got a bit more animated when the alcohol was brought out, huge golden goblets filled for each of them.
“I’m going to need a cup of whatever they’re having,” I said with a sigh. “Actually, don’t even worry about the goblet, I’ll just take the barrel.”
Aros, who was on my right, reached over and placed his palm against my spine. The material covering my skin might as well not have been there at all, because his heat almost felt like it was branding me. “We promise you can get drunk after tonight, but until then, you’re having water.”
“What about Brina’s experimental substance?”
My eyes flicked between all of them, hoping to see expressions of confidence and trust in regards to the Sorcery Beta. Instead there were lots of hard eyes and rigid jaws. Dammit. They had asked her for help, and yet it looked as if none of them trusted her either.
I was distracted by two large trays landing in the centre of our table. They were piled high with the most delicious array of foods I had ever seen. One held meats and game from the waters around Blesswood; I had eaten the white-fleshed swimmers baked and seasoned before, and quite enjoyed the flaky texture, but my favourite was when they cooked the meat in a puffed pastry, filled with a cream and cheese sauce—which they had done tonight.
I snagged as many as I could and dropped them down onto the white plate in front of me, before picking out a few other pieces of food, including some of the crunchy cheese bread, which I was probably going to have to seek help for. I was addicted; I could admit when I had a problem.
Water was poured into our far less fancy goblets—much smaller and half as ornate as the goblets adorning the gods’ table—and I thirstily gulped down the liquid before remembering Brina. My head shot up as I looked toward their table, but she wasn’t paying me any attention, or even looking in our direction. She was still conversing with Abil, both of them drinking from their golden chalices and leaning toward each other.
I eyed off the water in my own cup, but it just looked … normal, and it tasted just as normal as it looked. That meant it was safe to drink, right? She hadn’t been anywhere near the servers, the water jug, or my goblet. I nodded a few times, deciding it was safe to consume, and I ended up downing the entire cup.
Delicious.
It was really delicious, and I needed more. I must have been thirstier than I thought. “Another!” I yelled, holding the goblet in the air, before slamming it down onto the table with as much force as I could manage. Which was surprisingly a lot. The entire side of the wood cracked away beneath my cup, and I had to scramble back so it didn’t land on me.
I started laughing, throwing my head back at the absolute hilarity of me cracking a table. Willa Knight. Good ol’ Will Knight. I could barely even open a jar with a tight lid and now I was cracking tables.
I was almost a god by this point.
The thought had me laughing even harder, which had my chair tipping sideways. If Rome hadn’t grabbed onto the leg, I would have crashed into the floor.
“What is wrong with your dweller?” The cold, female voice caught my attention. I lifted my head, pushing back my no-longer-sleek hair.
That sentence took longer than it should have to finally register in my brain, but when it did, I was instantly pissed. Maybe it was the fact that the speaker wasn’t even bothering to ask me what my problem was—instead, deferring to the Abcurses—or maybe it was the fact that she was insinuating that there was something wrong with me in the first place. I mean, in all fairness, there was definitely something wrong with me. I had cracked a table. That wasn’t normal behaviour … but couldn’t she just let me enjoy my super-strength for a while longer?
Holy crap, I suddenly have super-strength!
I lifted both hands up in the air, palms facing toward the sol in front of me. “Hold up there,” I said.
She did, waiting for me to continue.
Unfortunately, I had nothing more to say. I hadn’t realised that she would actually hold up.
“She’s fine, sol.” Siret spoke up for me, tugging my outstretched arms back down. “You would do well to scurry off and bother yourself in someone else’s business.”
Her large, gray eyes blinked a few times, her brow scrunching in confusion. “My name is Jade, I was recently appointed as head of the Dweller Relations Committee in light of Elowin’s request for a sabbatical. All dweller-sol relations are now my business.”
Sabbatical? What the heck?
“Sabbatical?” Siret asked aloud. “What the heck?”