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I make a mental note of the first one as the best candidate dish as Arwan puts others underneath my nose.
The second has a rich, nutty aroma, while the third is doused in sweet herbs. I strike the last two from my list, based on my knowledge of antidotes. While all three have potential, the mixture of citrus and mint is a key giveaway to one of the strongest antidotes I know of that uses a rare herb. One that I’m fairly certain grows even in Monster Isle’s harsh conditions.
Although, now I’m not so sure how I know that. I might have been trained by various poisons and antidotes that are commonly found in the Elite City, but why would I know anything about Monster Isle’s herbs?
Unless…
“Which one will you sample?” Arwan asks me, breaking my train of thought.
I have to pick one.
The wrong choice means death.
“The first,” I say, hoping he can’t hear the waver in my voice.
He makes a sound. I’m not sure if it’s one of disappointment or approval. Even if he’ll get to sample all three and digest all of the antidote ingredients, his life is still linked to mine. If I die, so does he.
Won’t that be a spectacle for the king.
“Open your mouth,” Arwan says, making me freeze.
Flashes of my dream make my cheeks heat, but I obey and do as I’m told.
A fluffy pastry grazes my tongue, and I take a generous bite. Once I’ve finished it, I wait until the host instructs us on the next step.
“Blindfolds off!” he declares.
I find Arwan watching me as the shifters hand out wine bottles. Each table gets three.
The unlabeled bottles have a sloshing liquid inside, and my stomach turns. What if all three have the same poison and it doesn’t matter which one I select?
“Don’t let the games get in your head,” Arwan says. He pitches his voice low so only I can hear.
A sweat has broken out on the back of my neck, and I scowl at him. He’s taking his time sampling small bites of each dish. It’s one he didn’t cook, but hopefully whoever this meal is from has the right herbs.
The host comes directly to my table, making me stiffen. He’s wearing garb similar to Arwan’s, but his is more flamboyant and glitters underneath the mage lights.
Unlike Arwan, the host’s eyes are a dark brown, almost appearing black against his wide pupils. “You go last, my dear.” He opens one of the bottles, then offers it to me. “Take your time selecting which wine pairs with your sponsor’s meal. Your life depends on it.”
Taking the bottle by the neck, I swallow down all the insults I want to hurl back at him.
“Why am I last?” I ask instead. That seems to be a somewhat more useful question at the moment.
He looks back at the black mirror and smiles. “You’re the reason we’re all here. The Court Games aren’t supposed to happen until after the run, but a little premature pleasure never hurt anyone.”
When he walks away, I lean into Arwan and whisper-yell at him. “What the hell does that mean?”
Arwan’s eyes only glitter with pride, as if I’ve done something miraculous.
It seems I’m not going to get any answers from him today. I have to survive first.
Sofia gives me an encouraging nod when I catch her gaze. She’s already selected her wine bottle and is holding it to her chest. She doesn’t seem afraid at all.
She’s so brave.
The host has one of the furthest tables begin, and the candidate selects her wine. She dutifully pours one glass for herself, then another for her sponsor.
We all hold our breath as she takes a sip.
