The Wishing Game

Chapter 49

FORTY-NINE

T he two suns are blazing in the sky, a burning red against clear blue. As the door of the shop closes behind us, we step into the bustling street.

A few gasps erupt around us, and people stop to stare. Men and women of all ages come to a halt, their eyes widening as they take us in.

My brows scrunch up as I look up at Ze questioningly. His lips are pressed in a thin line as he glares at the pedestrians—his way of telling them to move along and mind their own business. But it's clear why they're gawking at him with a mix of awe and trepidation. He's easily the largest man around, with a good head taller than the rest. His shoulder breadth alone is the size of two normal males put together. He'd be a frightening sight to everyone, especially since his sword is dangling by his waist, the white of the scabbard a stark contrast to his black clothes.

A few kids here and there continue to stare at him on the verge of tears, while their parents are cooing to them in a comforting voice, dragging them away.

"So," I start, plastering a smile on my face. Thea had mentioned that s’Aperiotes don't particularly like deities, no matter their rank. They must have recognized Ze as one and they no doubt have plenty of opinions against him for that alone. Some people who haven't scurried away still glare at us, their nostrils flaring as they mutter something amongst themselves.

"Thea mentioned there's a shop around that serves sweet ices. Let's go there?"

Ze turns to me, his brows going up in surprise.

"You want to go get sweet ices? With me?"

"Why not? Thea and Wyn will likely be at the seamstress's shop for a while, and I don't have anything planned for today. Wait, do you?" My face falls as I ask.

"No. I do not," he hurries to add as he straightens his back, a smile tipping at his lips. "I will accompany you to get sweet ices."

"Great. If chocolate is so good in your world, I'm curious how this will compare."

"I would not know," he adds pensively.

"Of course. You do not engage in frivolities, and I bet sweet ices are the height of such frivolities," I say as I crack a smile.

He nods, his expression serious.

"You are correct, human. But for you, I shall make an exception."

"Happy to hear that, Ze." I chuckle, grabbing his arm and threading mine through the crook of his elbow. He blinks in surprise at my gesture, but his lips settle in a pleasant smile and he draws me closer to him.

As we walk to the ice shop, the whispers around us abound. The sea of people splits to make way for us as if we were a pair of diseased individuals no one wanted to be near. It's quite odd. I glance left and right, noticing men who hunch their shoulders in fear, averting their gazes as Ze and I pass, while others glare at us belligerently, cursing under their breaths.

I do my best to ignore it, but the heavy weight of their malevolent gazes makes the hairs on my body rise up. Ze does not comment on it, however, and I don't bring it up either. Instead, I make some small talk on the way, keeping his attention on me so he doesn't register the extent of people's dislike. Knowing him, he would take umbrage at people failing to recognize his greatness and that could lead to a conflict no one wants.

Luckily, though, we reach the shop rather fast. The building is made out of red brick, with a white sign over the door saying: Jojo's sweet ice. As we enter the shop, a few waitresses run around the place, scribbling down orders with a pleasant smile on their faces. The place is almost full. Lively chatter fills the room, with customers engaged in animated discussions while they're enjoying their desserts.

The door closes behind us and everyone stops what they're doing to stare at us.

Silence envelops the room. One of the waitresses blinks, her smile falling. All the color leaves the customers' faces, the previously relaxed atmosphere becoming heavy and intense.

I clear my throat as I look at Ze.

"What about that table?" I point to a faraway corner.

He grunts, taking my hand and leading me there. And for the first time, I'm surprised to see a gentlemanly side to him as he pulls a chair for me to sit. He takes a seat across from me, though the chair is too small for him. Still, he doesn't complain, merely letting his calculated gaze roam around the room. Although he's not saying anything, his stiff manner alone is threatening enough, and people feel the shift in the air. The shop turns eerily calm, and although people are not openly staring at us, they're still furtively stealing glances, their voices now barely above a whisper.

The waitresses are gathered in a corner, talking amongst themselves and gesturing toward our table. Eventually, one of them hunches her shoulders and comes our way, bringing two menus with her.

She lays them on the table for us and scurries out of the way before we can even thank her.

Odd.

Grabbing one of the menus, I quietly study it, thankful it comes with pictures.

"This looks so good." I smile. The ice is served in a round cup the size of my fist, and it appears there are a multitude of flavors, all served with a syrup on top.

"What will you have?" I ask Ze.

His brows are knit together as he peruses the options, but he seems conflicted about his choice.

"What will you have?" he fires back.

"Chocolate, of course." I chuckle, pointing to the chocolate chip one.

A hint of a smile tugs at his lips.

"Of course, your favorite." He nods. "What is your second favorite?"

"Hmm." I bite my lip as I glance down at the menu. They have an assortment of fruits that I'm not familiar with, but there are also a few flavors that I know well. "This." I point to the mint caramel one.

"Then that is what I shall have," he declares, pushing his menu aside.

"Are you sure?" I raise my brows. "You don't have to get it just because I like it."

"If you like it, I will like it," he states, ending the conversation as he raises his hand and beckons the waitress to our table, barking out the order succinctly.

The waitress keeps her distance, swallowing hard as she scribbles down our order. She doesn't linger as she turns her back to us, disappearing toward the kitchen.

"Why are people so rude around here?" I ask him in a low voice.

His features tighten.

"I suppose it is my presence that makes them that way."

"What do you mean?"

He purses his lips.

"Do not concern yourself with that. You are here to enjoy yourself and you will enjoy yourself," he comments, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

I blink repeatedly, taken aback by the vehemence in his voice.

"All right," I murmur, settling more comfortably in my chair. "Are you worried about Elora's threat? She's the king's daughter, isn't she?"

Ze grunts.

"She is his youngest daughter. I believe she is around Arwyn's age. It is my understanding she will have her debut at the end of the year."

"She seemed...difficult."

He shrugs.

"I do not like the king or his family. I have no doubt she will complain about me and in turn the king will have a reason to make it more difficult for me to gain access to the temple. Which is why I shall require your assistance."

"You anticipate that it will be that difficult?"

"It is a calculated guess. There is not one king among the fourteen Houses that bears me any affection. They see me as a threat."

"But surely that's more reason to try to be nicer to you?" I ask.

The corner of his mouth curls up.

"The politics of this world are...different. There are factions within the Houses, just as there are factions within the Supremes. Although...they all have one thing in common," he pauses, amusement playing at his lips.

I raise my brows in question.

"They all hate me." He releases a dry laugh—one that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"W-what? Even the Supremes?"

"I am a necessary evil. Or so I am told." He shrugs.

"But why would you follow the rules of someone who hates you? Someone who only tolerates you for your abilities?" I frown.

He tilts his head to the side, thoughtfully considering my question.

"Because I do not know otherwise," he answers quietly.

My eyes slowly widen as the meaning of his words sinks in.

Seven thousand years. He's spent seven thousand years just...being tolerated? Because these people need him as much as they fear him? It hasn't escaped me that even the king was terrified of Ze despite putting on a strong front.

My lips quiver as it dawns on me what a lonely existence he must have led.

No frivolities. No relationships. Nothing. Just...existing.

No wonder he's never felt joy, or anything really. Was he ever allowed to?

He notices my reaction, and his features harden.

"Do not pity me, human," he grits out in a low voice.

I shake my head. Grabbing my chair, I scoot closer to him until we're next to one another. Forcing my lips into a smile, I tentatively reach out, curving my palm along his cheek.

He blinks, his eyes narrowed at me. His chest rises and falls as his pupils become larger in size. His countenance is tentative, as if he doesn't know what to expect—half leaning into me, half thinking to run away from me.

The corners of my mouth curl up.

Running—not something I would ever associate with him.

"How could I pity you when it's all you've ever known?" I murmur as I caress him gently.

A stricken look appears on his face, one that wounds me deep inside because I can see the fear reflected in his gaze, just as I can feel the loneliness emanating from him.

"But I want you to know you don't have to let yourself be tolerated. You don't have to live your life at other people's whims and take whatever scraps they throw your way. You deserve better, Ze."

His lips part, his breathing becoming labored.

"I know you don't need friends. But don't you wish to at least surround yourself with people who...don't hate you?"

Tension fills his jaw.

"I do not need to be liked," he grinds out. "It is the nature of my position to be hated. I do the job no one else dares to."

"But do you have to?"

He stares at me, his mouth opening and closing as if he cannot find the words to answer me.

"Why do you care?" he eventually asks as he averts his gaze, a flush going up his neck. "A few days ago, you were telling me how much you hate me—just like everyone else."

A hopeless sigh escapes his lips as he stares at the faraway wall. My heart clenches in my chest at that lone sound, and something akin to a punch in the gut makes me gasp for air.

I did say those things. I did tell him how much I hated him. Yet despite all he's done and said before... I understand. He was never given a chance to be better, and to my great shame, I behaved just like the others.

"I don't condone your actions, Ze. Hell, I don't like most of them. Yet even when I don't like you, there's something about you that calls to me." I give him a sad smile. "I may not agree with you, but I care about you. And I want you to be better. If you want that, too, that is."

He doesn't move, his eyes fixed on me.

"I would like"—he clears his throat as he rolls his shoulders and straightens his back—"to be nice. To you."

"Prove it then. Make an effort and be nice."

He gives me a brisk nod, his cheeks heated. My hand falls from his face and I tuck it by my side, not wanting him to misconstrue my actions.

"Does that also yield me extra points?" he asks eagerly.

My brows shoot up in surprise before I burst into laughter.

"Fine. I'll reward your good deeds with extra points."

A satisfied smile blooms on his face, and he once more leans back in his seat, resuming his relaxed stance.

Our conversation continues on a lighter tone, and I even manage to elicit a few smiles from him that are as foreign to me as they are to him.

Yet despite our easygoing interaction, the atmosphere is still tense. The hairs on my back stand to attention as I feel people's eyes boring into me. I glance around from the corner of my eye, not surprised to see people staring at us. Some do so directly, their distaste written all over their features, while others are more discreet. The staff of the establishment appears to have a problem with us as well. Since we've taken our seats, a few other people have come in, all ordering and receiving their orders within a short period of time. Meanwhile, we've been waiting for ages. I may not be sure how things are done around here, but I can feel when I'm unwanted.

I wonder if they haven't brought out our orders because they thought if we waited long enough, we'd cut our losses and leave. Alas, we will not.

Ze seems oblivious to the hostile atmosphere, and in order to avoid more trouble, I keep things to myself. The last thing we need is for him to say or do something that will just confirm people's opinion of him. So to distract him, I put on a pleasant smile and inquire about his general.

"Why did the Supremes choose a mate for Aethon? Is he not allowed to choose for himself?"

His lips press together in a tight line.

"Aethon is a special case. He is the only blue dragon in existence and the Supremes are afraid his line will die out. For thousands of years, they have been trying to find someone who is a biological match to him and who would be able to bear him blue dragon younglings."

"So he has no choice at all in who he takes as a mate?"

"If the Supremes decree it, he will have to obey it."

I nod slowly. Poor Wyn. She's going to be heartbroken.

"And who is this mate they've found for him?" I probe further.

"She is a silver dragon, but she has not yet reached maturity. Still, if the Supremes enforce a betrothal, it will be binding until she becomes an adult, at which point they will be mated."

"Isn't Aethon ancient? He has to wait even more?"

Ze shrugs.

"It is what it is. I have known Aethon for almost six thousand years. He has always been dedicated to his position. There was never any suggestion that he might wish for a mate, or younglings. But if the Supremes command it..."

"You obey. Got it. I just feel sorry for Wyn. She has a major crush on him," I sigh.

"Aethon is a desirable male, both due to his achievements and his unattainability. It is normal for young females to be infatuated with him. Most debutantes are. But compared to Arwyn, they realize their dreams are just that—dreams. I cannot fathom how Erithea has allowed her to nurture these fantasies."

"Thea thought it was an innocent crush. But Wyn went too far to embroider his dragon form on her gown."

Ze scoffs.

"That is how you know she is related to Erithea. Foolish females, both of them." He shakes his head.

"Ze." I side-eye him. "I thought you were going to try to be nice."

"Being nice and frank are two different things." He puts his finger up. "I do not lie, human." He glares at me intently.

"Right, sometimes I forget you have no filter." I sigh. "You don't have to lie, you know. Just... be more tactful."

His eyes narrow, his mouth tightening.

"Senseless females," he amends after a moment's thought.

I blink. Slowly, I release a deep breath. He is hopeless.

Our discussion is interrupted by the waitress, who places the cups of sweet ice on the table, the chocolate one in front of me and the mint caramel one in front of Ze.

"Thank you," I murmur, dragging my chair closer and licking my lips as I pick up a spoon to taste it. I dip it in the ice and grab a small spoonful, which I then bring to my mouth.

"Ah, this is so good," I exclaim as I smack my lips together to get more of the flavor.

Ze looks intently at me, nodding to himself. Seeing my reaction, he turns his attention to his own cup of ice, studying it.

"Here," I say as I push a full spoon of chocolate ice to him. "Taste. This is so amazing, Ze." I sigh. "You have to try it."

His eyes sparkle as he leans forward, wrapping his lips around the spoon.

"You like it?"

He nods, a look of surprise crossing his face.

"Oh, by the way," I whisper conspiratorially. "I hope you have money to pay for this since I don't have any."

His lips curve up in a lopsided smile.

"I have money, human. I told you, I am very rich."

"Right." I nod. "I forgot you also have a very expensive palace."

"Precisely." He pushes his chin up. "I can afford to feed you sweet ices for the rest of your life," he adds proudly.

"So nice of you, Ze. See, you're already doing better," I tease.

Heat climbs up his cheeks, and he struggles not to preen at the praise.

While I continue to eat with gusto, he dips his own spoon into the sweet ice and gets his first taste.

I pause, looking at him expectantly.

"How is yours?"

He gulps down, slowly licking his lips.

"It is... good," he finally says, though something about the way he scrunches his nose makes me doubt that.

"Let me try." I reach out with my spoon, but he swats it out of the way.

"Yours is better," he grumbles, pulling his bowl closer and out of reach.

"Ze." I pout. "You said you'd be nice. Let me try it."

He shakes his head.

I pull my chair closer to him, and with a mischievous smile, I try to get a spoonful again. This time, he takes the bowl in his arms, digging in with his spoon and eating half of the ice cream in just a couple of bites.

My lashes flutter as I stare at him.

If this is how he wants to play the game, he'll have a little surprise.

"Oh my!" My eyes widen in feigned shock as I point behind him. "What is that , Ze?" I call out in a frightened voice.

His features tense, and he turns to look behind him.

I take advantage of his momentary lack of attention to stick my spoon in what's left of his bowl of ice, take a little, and bring it to my mouth.

He's too fast, however. He grabs my hand, stopping it midair just as I'm about to finally taste it. Before I can blink, he leans forward, wrapping his lips around the spoon and eating all the ice. His eyes never leave mine, his tongue swirling around the spoon in slow motion.

"Ze..."

"It is poisoned," he whispers so only I can hear him. "You cannot have it or you will be gravely ill."

"W-what?"

"Yours is fine," he continues as if he didn't just drop a bomb on me.

"Are you all right? Will you get ill?" The words tumble out of my mouth as I drop my arm, staring at him in shock.

"I shall be fine. They were probably unaware that I am immune to most known poisons."

"They... You mean they did this on purpose? They wanted to..."

"Kill me?" He raises a brow, his lips curling at the corners. "It would not be the first time."

"What are you talking about?" I hiss as I lean forward until we're a mere breath apart. "How can you be so apathetic about this?"

"It is not a novelty." He shrugs. "Although it does not harm me, it does taste foul." He sighs. "I would not recommend it."

"Damn it, Ze. This is not the moment to joke around," I say pointedly as I jab my finger into his chest. "You can't just let this go. They tried to kill you!" I catch myself just in time so I don't yell the words. "Regardless of whether they succeeded or not, the intention was there."

The stares. The whispers. The blatant disrespect. Now it all makes sense. But it also makes me more enraged than I've ever been before—especially as Ze doesn't seem bothered in the least. His expression is relaxed, almost blasé.

"If I were to punish everyone who ever wished me dead, I am afraid Aperion would be sorely lacking in population," he says with a careless shrug.

"But... Aren't you mad?" I blink.

"I was, the first few times it happened. After so long, I got used to it and now I just ignore it."

"Well, I cannot in good conscience ignore it," I declare, fuming on his behalf.

His brows knit together as he tilts his head, his expression puzzled.

I shoot to my feet, sparks of anger humming under my skin.

"You." I point to the waitress. "Come here."

Everyone is suddenly staring at me, but I don't care. Someone needs to explain this, and I will not let it go until Ze gets an apology.

Ze gets up as well, hovering behind me like a shadow, quiet like one too.

The waitress looks right and left as she slowly makes her way to our table. Just as she reaches us, I grab the poisoned ice and shove it in her face.

"Eat." I nod at her.

"W-what?" she whispers.

"I said eat."

"I cannot," she stammers, looking at her colleagues for help. "It would not be right for me to do so." She feigns a smile.

"Is that so?" I plaster an equally fake smile on my face. And before she realizes what I'm about to do, I push my hand into the bowl, scoop the rest of the ice in my fist, and bring it to her mouth, forcefully feeding it to her.

She gasps and chokes. Most of the ice melts around the corners of her mouth, but I have no doubt she must have ingested at least a little.

When she realizes what happened, she takes a step back, her eyes wild as she releases a sharp screech.

"Dora! Dora! I need the antidote," she screams, scrambling back and tripping. She falls to the ground, her mouth open as her voice becomes little more than background noise.

A few other women hurry from the kitchens, one of them carrying a small glass that she forces onto the waitress's throat. But while they're desperately trying to save that witch, I turn my angry gaze to the rest of the customers.

"It's the God Killer," the whispers abound.

"He ate so much of it and he's still alive," one man marvels.

"We should do something. I heard he can't strike back unless he gets permission from the Supremes."

"I heard that too. He's only allowed to kill demons and execute traitors."

"He shouldn't be called the God Killer." One laughs. "He should be called the Lap Dog instead."

The more I hear their vile insults, the more I feel incensed on Ze's behalf. One glance at him, though, and he doesn't seem in the least bothered. That tells me everything I need to know.

Seven thousand years of being treated like this. He's...used to it. He finds it normal.

"How the hell can you stand by and watch these people try to kill him?"

A gaggle of laughter erupts in the crowd.

"Good riddance," one scoffs from the back.

"You..."

"Do not get angry on my behalf. It is not worth it, Luce. We should leave," Ze whispers as he places his hands on my shoulders.

I clench my hands into fists. The laughter intensifies, as do the mocking words.

How can he not be affected by this? How...

"They should have poisoned her too," someone whispers, indignation bleeding from her voice. "Any female willing to share a table with the God Killer is just as bad."

I purse my lips, my breathing intensifying as the urge to do something—anything—overwhelms me.

"I wouldn't be surprised if she's his whore." A woman steps forward, pointing her finger at me.

"She's too ugly to be anything but his whore," a man echoes.

My eyes widen.

"What did you just say?" Ze bellows, pulling me back and placing himself in front of me.

The crowd takes a step back.

Yet despite the overwhelming fear I sense from them, there's also the hate—so much hate.

Ze's expression changes, the air around him crackling as shimmery purple particles surround us. The ground quakes, the tables rattling furiously with each step he takes. His muscles are coiled, the purple of his aura becoming a deeper shade—the physical manifestation of his anger.

"Run! Run!" one man yells, but not before he takes his bowl of ice and throws it at Ze.

The others follow his example, flinging their ices at Ze before dashing out of the shop.

Ze could do more. I am sure of that. He could kill them with one finger if he wished. But he doesn't. Instead, he turns his back to them, letting them hit him with the bowls of sweet ice as he places his massive body in front of me, shielding me.

"Ze..." I whisper.

His mouth is a tight line as his nostrils flare, and I'm not sure whether he's in pain or not.

"They will be dead," he states in a rough voice. "They will be utterly dead."

I fit my hand to his cheek, brushing my thumb across his jaw and attempting a smile—more for his sake than mine.

"Let's leave. Please."

He breathes in and out, struggling to regain control of himself. His arms are around me, a protective cage as more bowls hit him, the flavored ice melting over his clothes, hair, and skin. He's thoroughly soaked and soiled, but he doesn't bat an eye at it. He might be out of his mind with anger, but his first thought is to protect me, not punish those who mocked him.

My heart squeezes in my chest, slow and steady, until my insides ignite with warmth.

"Take me back, Ze," I whisper.

He squeezes his eyes shut, and the purple mist around us starts dissipating.