The Wishing Game

Chapter 60

SIXTY

I wake up with a start, drenched in sweat. Glancing down at myself, I note I'm still in my shift, the material almost sheer from perspiration. As I swing my legs over the bed to head to the bathroom, a pounding headache assails me—one that nearly brings me to my knees.

Oh, damn it!

Memories of last night start flooding my mind, as well as fragments of that odd dream.

God, I drank far too much, didn't I? So much so that I... My eyes widen in disbelief as I recall being in bed with Ze and... I pat myself down. My shift is intact. I'm not naked. Nothing happened, right? I could have sworn he tore the material, but maybe that was also just a dream? Guiltily, I have to admit to myself that maybe I've been spending too much time with him and that has affected my perception of him. I care about him, of course, but our relationship can't be more—it won't be more. Perhaps that dream was also a reflection of that—the dilemma of being torn between two men. Being committed to one but also wanting the other...

My eyes widen, my hands gripping the wall for support as I realize I just admitted to myself that I want Ze. That...

No, no. This is impossible. We are friends. Just friends.

I'm married!

In the dream, too, I was engaged to someone else while dallying with another man—one that I had strong feelings for as far as I recall. The details may be fuzzy, but the emotion still echoes in my chest.

God, I'm a mess!

I hunch my shoulders in defeat as I enter the bathroom, my first stop being the sink to brush my teeth. The taste of alcohol is still in the back of my throat. In fact, as I sniff myself, I note that I'm also in dire need of a shower. The smell of alcohol is everywhere.

With a weary sigh of a person with one hell of a hangover, I lift my shift over my head and dump it in the dirty clothes basket before heading to the shower.

But as I walk across the bathroom, I catch my reflection in the mirror. I stop in my tracks as my eyes glaze over my body.

What?

I take a step closer to the mirror, tracing the smooth skin on my chest and arms. For the first time in as long as I can remember, there's no mark. Nothing except a small black spot over my right breast. I narrow my eyes at it. It's a star with fourteen sharp edges. In the middle, there's a tiny dot surrounded by one bubble on each side that contains a symbol similar to the ones I previously had on my skin.

Yet aside from that small mark on top of my breast, my skin is unblemished. There's nothing on my belly or on my thighs. Nothing at all.

"What the hell?" I mutter, utterly stupefied.

Those marks have stained my skin for so many years, I cannot even remember what I looked like without them. They were a bad memory as much as they were a core part of my identity. Because you can't have the good without the bad. You can only appreciate the good when you have the bad contrasting it.

Those marks were evidence of my horrendous past, but most of all, they were proof that I survived.

"Could it be..." I murmur to myself as I turn right and left, studying every inch of my skin. "Could it be that they've disappeared because I've finally come to terms with my past? That I've finally left the ghost of Sergio behind?" I muse aloud, my brows bunched together in consternation.

They appeared the night Sergio hurt me. Maybe they disappeared because my inner wounds have finally healed? That seems like a logical explanation.

But there's one more thing.

A.S.L.'s letter.

Dashing back to my room, I remove it from under the mattress where I hid it. My eyes quickly scan the contents again.

The writing on your skin—it is a promise. There is nothing evil about it, nor is it something to be afraid of. It is a vow written in blood, and in a matter of days, that vow will be fulfilled. When that happens, the mark of a new beginning will arise.

What vow? How was it fulfilled?

And the new mark...what new beginning does it signify?

I read and reread the lines until I know them by heart. But still, I'm no closer to figuring out an answer except that whoever A.S.L. was, he or she knew about my marks. And against all odds, they predicted the future. But is it any wonder they did? After all, they had left a letter in a secret place hundreds of years ago, knowing it would somehow end up in my hands.

Who are you? And what are you trying to tell me?

The fact that I'm convinced that A.S.L. speaks the truth now is beside the point as I worry about this new mark and its potential meaning.

Panic swells in my breast as I pace around the room with the letter in my hand. Barely conscious of my actions, I say the name of the only person who can help me.

"Ze?" I call out. "Can you please come here? I need you," I murmur, doing my best not to let myself be overcome by anxiety.

My limbs are weak and wobbly, my brain fogging up as I think of the worst scenarios.

I need him. Ze. I know he'll have answers.

But even as I continue calling him, he's nowhere to be found.

My eyes drop to the letter once more.

You must quit The Wishing Game.

If what A.S.L. has said so far is true, then could this be true as well? Could I be in danger if I continue in the game? Could Nikki be in danger?

I swallow hard. Confusion swirls in my brain, making me dizzy. I've never been more disoriented in my life. How do I know which is the best choice to make? Because if I quit now... I won't be able to participate again and my wish for getting Nikki back will never materialize.

But there's also the reverse. If A.S.L. is right, and so far everything they've said has been right, then the only way to get Nikki back is to quit.

My hands tremble as I hold the yellowed piece of paper. I stare and stare at it, truly at a crossroads.

"Where are you, Ze? I need you," I call out again, walking around my room like a zombie.

What should I do? God, what's the best decision in this case?

I inhale and exhale as I attempt to center myself in the present. I can only make a decision with the facts I have, and based on the empirical evidence at hand, there's only one right answer.

Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath.

"I wish to withdraw from The Wishing Game," I speak before I lose the courage.

"Are you sure you wish to give up?" The wraith appears before me, startling me and making me lose my balance.

"Y-yes," I stammer.

"Your decision has been noted. You are officially withdrawn from The Wishing Game. As you were part of a team, the entire team has been disqualified," she tells me in a mechanical voice. "Good day and good luck," she says before she disappears.

Shit! Thea! She wanted this, didn't she?

Damn! Did I just ruin everything for her, too?

Right at that moment, a strong pulsation erupts from the center of the mark, heat surrounding the entire area. I fall to my ass as I moan in distress. I cover the symbol with my hand, rubbing it as my breathing grows labored.

Tears fall down my cheeks as my mind explodes into a thousand little pieces until I can barely make sense of anything—of who I am or what my purpose is.

A screeching sound reverberates in the air. Belatedly, I realize that's me.

I taste the saltiness of my tears as an elusive memory knocks at the door of my subconsciousness. The feeling is there, almost as if I was supposed to know something, but I cannot put it into words.

The door to my room bursts open and Thea barges in, a worried expression on her face.

"Luce, are you all right?" she asks, her eyes widening as she spots me on the floor, naked and tear-streaked.

"I-I don't know," I reply honestly. "I think I fucked up, Thea," I add in a whisper.

"If you mean the Game, don't worry about it. I should have quit before, too." She sighs.

"You...know?"

"The wraith just paid me a visit. But I've been thinking about withdrawing for a while now. If I get caught, things will be much worse."

"You... You're not mad at me?"

She shakes her head, slowly moving toward me. She offers me her hand and I take it, letting her pull me up. My heart is still beating loudly in my chest, my anxiety a low hum in my ears that becomes more and more distant.

"Is that why you were crying? Oh, Luce. You're too sweet." She smiles as she pats my head. But as her eyes dip lower to my chest, she observes the obvious too. "What..." she mumbles, blinking repeatedly.

"I don't know what happened. Yesterday, the marks were there. Today...it's only this." I point to the star above my breast. "But I'm not sure what it means."

"You need to talk to my mother. She might be able to help you."

My lips tremble as I gaze at her. Ze had said I shouldn't show my marks to anyone who might recognize ancient Tartareian. But what if this isn't ancient Tartareian? What if it's something completely different?

"Okay," I nod. "When can I see her?"

"Anytime after the ball. Everyone is busy setting up everything for tonight now."

"Tonight..." I repeat with a frown. My eyes widen as it dawns on me that today is the day of Wyn's debut. Time passed so quickly and I've been so busy that I'm ashamed to say I... forgot.

"I was on my way to you to help you with your hair and makeup. There are certain expectations for a society ball..." Thea drones on as she explains that unmarried women are expected to dress their hair and do their makeup in a specific fashion. Even as I attempt to protest that I'm married, she shushes me, telling me it doesn't really count since I have no husband.

The statement hurts, but it's true. Nikki has been missing for a while now. But even if he were here, would I just go to the ball with a shadow on my arm?

The thought makes me crack a smile.

"Let's do this, then," I tell her.

She winks at me and quickly runs to bring her supplies. Meanwhile, I shower and place the dress I'd gotten for the ball on the bed, careful not to wrinkle it. It's a beautiful mix of white and pink tulle, all tied together with a wide pink belt at the waist.

When Thea returns, she does my makeup, applying a glow foundation, some blush to my cheeks, and a dash of highlighter on my cheekbones. For my eyes, she goes for a clean and natural look, with a thin black liner, mascara, and a dot of highlighter in my inner corners and in the middle of my lower lid. Next is my hair, and she curls it before adorning it with a myriad of pink bows to match my dress. Apparently, unmarried females must aim to look innocent and young to attract the attention of a potential suitor. I refrain from telling Thea that I'm not looking for any suitor. Since this is the way people dress for such occasions, who am I to say no? When in Rome, you do as the Romans do, no?

She helps me slide into my dress before she circles around me to make sure everything is in order.

"Perfect," she declares with a smile.

"What about you? You've spent so much time on me, when are you going to get ready?" I ask as I look at the clock. It's already afternoon. The ball is supposed to start in a few hours...

She snaps her fingers and her hair is already curly, her red locks complemented by blue bows. Her dress, too, changes. She's now wearing a light blue gown with an empire waist and a light skirt. The detailing on her dress is a dark blue to match her hair accessories.

"I just need to do my makeup. But that's easy," she says, quickly grabbing a mirror and starting on her face. It takes her a few minutes to expertly do a light but beautiful look. She uses a blue liner for her eyes and a peach-red blush to accentuate her cheeks.

"I'm done," she smiles. "Why don't we go check on Wyn and we can all go to the ballroom together at eight?"

I nod, and together, we go to Wyn's room in the other wing of the house. A cry resounds from inside the room, and we both barge inside.

Wyn is in the middle of the room with two seamstresses next to her, trying to help her put on her gown.

"I don't like it," she cries out, tears falling down her cheeks.

"Wyn?" Thea calls her name as she rushes toward her sister.

"I don't like it, Thea. I want my old dress back."

"Oh, sweetie. You know you couldn't have worn that dress anyway."

"I would have worn it," she declares staunchly between hiccups. "I don't care if everyone hated me for it, but at least I would have loved it."

"Wynwyn, we've already talked about this. I thought you agreed to stop pining after Aethon. He's not going to come to your ball. No one even knows where he is!"

"Can't I just do it for myself? I felt good in that dress. This..." she murmurs as she points to the off-white delicate gown she's wearing. It's a Regency-style dress with an empire waist and puffy sleeves. It's similar to the one Thea's wearing, but there is not one splash of color on Wyn's.

"Wyn..." Thea purses her lips.

"Is there a rule that she can't have some color on her dress?" I ask, and they both turn to stare at me.

"It is rather unusual, but I suppose it's not against the rules," Thea muses. "Why?"

"I have an idea," I say as I wink at Wyn. I know how special tonight is for her. But more than anything, it's her last time going out in society before she joins the temple. And because of that, I want her to be happy and enjoy her night to the maximum.

Picking up the seamstresses' bag, I ask for permission to go through it. Once granted, I search for an item that would fit and at last, I find a roll of dark blue ribbon. Taking it to Wyn's side, I pin some at the top of her bodice before going around her gown and layering it over the material of her dress. As it slithers around her body, it begins resembling a serpent, or if one gives it a little more thought, a blue dragon.

When I'm done with the body of the dragon , I fray some ribbon and add it toward the base of the skirt to simulate scales. And for the head, I use the hair accessories, removing the pins and preserving only the blue bows. Pinning them in place on her bodice, I create the effect of a side profile of a creature .

"What do you think?" I ask when I'm done, a little out of breath.

She turns to look at herself in the mirror, her eyes widening.

"I love it," she whispers. "Oh, Luce! I love it so much! Thank you!" She twirls in her dress, a genuine smile appearing on her face.

I give her a smile just as Thea also gives me a hug.

"Thank you," she murmurs in my ear. "You have no idea what it means for me to see Wyn so happy. She deserves the world." Leaning back, Thea watches her sister with an inscrutable expression on her face—one of pure love and so much more.

The seamstresses leave, but we remain behind to help Wyn with her hair. The time of the ball is fast approaching, and the nerves are starting to get to Wyn.

"What if no one comes?" she suddenly asks as she sips on her juice through a straw—very careful not to stain her dress.

"You know that's impossible." Thea chuckles.

"Not if Elora had anything to do with it. She may be a pest, but she has influence. She's part of the Royal Court and if she openly snubs me, others may too."

"The king cares too much about what Father thinks to make such a move. Even if Elora tried her wiles on him, I doubt he would jeopardize his connections with our family for a spoiled little girl."

"But you can't deny it's a possibility. If not the king, she could have easily told other families not to come..."

"You're worrying too much, Wyn. She might not even come."

"No." Wyn shakes her head. "If anything, she would come just to ruin my night. I hate her," she huffs aloud. "She's the worst . How can she even think Aethon could ever look at her when she's just a bully? My Aethon would never condone her behavior."

"Your Aethon?" Thea raises a brow.

Wyn, not wanting to argue, just shrugs.

"She only wants him because of his status. Why couldn't she go for Commander Azerius? He's even more exalted than Aethon, and as I hear, far richer," Wyn complains with a sigh.

My eyes flash at the mention of Ze, an uncomfortable heat accumulating in my breast.

"Because Commander Azerius is a horrible being whom no one likes," Thea adds drily.

"He's not horrible." I find myself defending him. "I like him."

Thea turns to me, her eyes narrowed.

"That makes you the only one."

"What about all those other deities you said were chasing after him?" I ask, doing my best to keep the bitterness from my voice.

"Those?" Thea laughs. "They only want him for his market value. If he paid attention to them, they would get a social boost and then they'd be able to get better matches. Behind his back, they despise him." She shrugs.

"I think you're being too harsh on him. He has his good points. But if no one gives him a chance, how can he demonstrate them?"

Thea tilts her head as she studies me.

"You've become quite the Ze defender."

My cheeks heat up.

"I just think he deserves a chance. He's really not that bad once you get to know him," I murmur, averting my gaze.

Just in time, someone knocks at the door.

"Enter," Wyn calls out.

The door opens to reveal Cer. He's wearing a fine suit in dark blue, his blazer held together at the waist with a wide black belt that houses his weapons.

"Cer!" Wyn calls out, jumping out of her seat and rushing forward to greet her brother.

Thea doesn't move, though a gentle smile appears on her face as she watches the interaction.

"You look beautiful, Wyn. I can't believe my baby sister is all grown up," he says as he hugs her carefully to not ruin her dress and hair.

"Thank you. I'm so happy you made it. Are you alone?" she asks eagerly, not even masking her interest.

"Unfortunately." He chuckles. "Who would I have with me?"

"I don't know. A date? Your friend?" Wyn bats her lashes at him.

Cer laughs as he wraps an arm around her shoulders and walks alongside her into the room.

"No female would have someone with my schedule," he jokes.

"Then maybe you should retire. You're the oldest. When are you going to give me nieces and nephews?"

"Easy now, sis. I'm not that old."

It's odd to see Cer so carefree—with a smile on his face. Until now, I didn't even realize the man could string together more than a couple of very short sentences. Yet with Wyn, it's like watching a transformed man. He's genuinely happy to see his sister, his eyes shining with affection.

"Just a bit. But it's okay. I don't hold it against you. In fact," she says in a chirpy voice, "older people are wiser, no? They are more weathered by experience," she mentions, her eyes meeting Thea's.

Thea sighs and rolls her eyes, knowing where Wyn is going with this. Only Cer is still unaware of the true topic at hand.

"What about your friend? I remember you saying he'd come with you," Wyn continues, blatantly fishing for information.

"You mean Aethon?" Cer blinks.

Wyn nods enthusiastically, hope blooming in her features.

"He's... He's still missing." He purses his lips. "Which is why I'll be leaving as soon as your ball is over. I'm sorry, sweetie."

"It's okay. You should help your friend." Wyn forces a smile. "But do you think..." She takes a deep breath. "Do you think he's dead?"

"All signs point to him still being alive."

A visible shudder goes through Wyn before a tremulous smile tips at her lips.

"That's good." She nods. "I hope you'll find him."

"Enough about Aethon. This is your night. I hope you won't forget that your first dance is mine." He winks at her.

"How would I forget it? All the other girls will die with envy." Wyn giggles.

"Will they, now?" Thea asks, her tone skeptical.

Wyn gives Thea a knowing look.

"All the girls in my class have a crush on Cer. They'll be lining up in front of him for the next dance. Just you wait and see."

"Of course. He's mister popular after all," Thea grumbles.

Cer raises a brow at her, but she simply huffs aloud as she turns her head, refusing to interact.

"Someone had to inherit all the charm," he drawls seductively.

Thea swivels, sending him death glares.

The tension becomes thick as they engage in a deadly stare contest. Wyn and I blink in confusion.

"You're overestimating yourself," Thea says pointedly, rising to her feet and plopping herself in front of him. "I bet I can get more dances tonight than you."

Cer regards her with amused skepticism.

"And what will you forfeit when you lose?"

"I will not lose."

"Erithea, you have not had one suitor since your debut three thousand years ago. What makes you think someone will suddenly pay you attention?" Cer's tone is amused, but a flicker of hurt crosses Thea's face. Though I can tell he means it in a good-humored way, this is a sore spot for Thea.

"It's only because I never wanted one. If I put in a little effort, all the males will swarm around me," she declares confidently, pushing her chin in the air as she challenges him with her gaze.

"The bet is on." Cer laughs. "If you get even one suitor, I shall give you my salary for a month."

"Seven," she counters.

"Three," he concedes. "But make it three suitors by the end of this evening."

"Fine. You have yourself a bet." She crosses her arms over her chest.

"And should you lose, what will I get?" Cer's lips curl up, seemingly enjoying watching her squirm.

"What do you want?" she grumbles.

"You will do the chores around my house for three months."

Her eyes widen. It's on the tip of her tongue to refuse. I can see it. But she ends up agreeing to it, though she doesn't seem particularly pleased about the terms.

"It's almost eight," I announce as I point to the clock. "We should head to the ballroom."

They all agree, and I'm happy Thea and Cer haven't resorted to violence. They must have a pretty bad case of sibling rivalry from what I've witnessed so far.

We take the stairs toward the ballroom. The sound of a live orchestra already reverberates through the house, and despite my still rather confused state of mind, I find myself giddy at the prospect of a ball—and by the looks of it, it's going to be a ball like those I've seen in the movies.

As we reach the hallway leading to the main wing of the house, an unexpected sight greets us.

Ze.

He's dressed all in black, though his belt is now a deep purple, with the sheath of his sword an identical color. His hair is brushed back, emphasizing the symbols on his face.

I slowly raise my gaze to meet his, my breath leaving my lungs.

A visceral feeling stabs at my chest. My pulse is through the roof, and I find it hard to breathe.

Our gazes are affixed to one another, his purple pupils seemingly glowing in the dimly lit hallway.

Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips stretch into a smile.

To my surprise, I find that mine do the same, returning the smile with a shy one of my own.

He puts one step in front of the other. The proximity becomes maddening, my body humming with pleasure as he stops in front of us. He offers me his arm, and I take it.

A gasp flies past my lips at the contact. The heat from his body envelops mine, making the mark above my chest pulsate with a foreign need—one that is as confusing as it is all-encompassing.

I glance up at him to find him staring at me intently, his lips half-parted.

I lick my own in response.

"You look beautiful tonight, Luce." He clears his throat, as if he's forgotten how to speak.

"You look quite dashing yourself," I manage, fighting my way against acute breathlessness.

The dress is suddenly too restrictive. Too hot. Too...

God, I cannot take my eyes off him. My blood pounds furiously in my veins. Without even realizing, I get closer to him, rubbing my shoulder against his arm—all in an effort to absorb more of his heat...of his scent.

"Ze," I whisper, wetting my lips.

His pupils grow larger.

I don't know what I meant to say—perhaps ask him to whisk me away to some place and relieve me of this ache that seems to build inside of me, a tension that's ready to snap unless I find some relief. And for some reason, I know only he can give me that relief.

Leaning into me, he brushes his lips against my ear.

"You are staring," he murmurs.

"W-what?" I stammer, my throat dry.

"Do not stop. I like it."