Chapter Thirty-Three Kion #2
Kion grimaces as they follow Cruttenbolt over to the next room, where dispensers of Jumping Jellies line the walls from floor to ceiling.
Niamh falls back as Cruttenbolt urges them to stand in front of the candy dispensers.
Kion jerks away as the shop owner licks a finger and attempts to smooth down his hair.
A pair of grinning pixies in light blue aprons haul in heart-shaped lollipops more than twice their size, dropping them into Kion’s and Taissa’s hands with giggles.
“These,” Cruttenbolt announces as the bogle cameramen set up their equipment, “are our very new Pleasure Pops! Part of the Love Pop brand, of course, but for…shall we say…adults.” The hobgoblin’s eyes glimmer in excitement. “Go on, unwrap them!”
Kion suddenly wants to drop the lollipop like it’s a hot coal. “What the fuck do these do?” he demands.
Cruttenbolt smiles guilelessly. “They’re not made from drugs, if that’s what you’re wondering!
Oh, no, no, my dear boy. You’ve heard of the Besottium Potion, I hope?
Well, these lollipops are made from it—with some sugar, of course!
And a delicious choco-raspberry flavor, yes, yes.
The effects are the same as Besottium: You’ll be besotted, and want to rip each other’s clothes off! ”
The elf looks slightly panicked; Niamh’s eyes are very wide. Kion’s and Taissa’s are very narrowed.
Cruttenbolt hops back over, having grabbed a clipboard from his director’s chair.
“We just need your signatures, and then we’ll shoot quickly, having both of you out of here in no time to, ah, attend to business.
If you could both feed each other the other lollipop, yes, I think that would do wonders!
” Cruttenbolt excitedly claps his hands, passing a Pell-Mell Plume to Taissa, along with the clipboard. “Sign, please!”
Taissa opens and closes her mouth like a fish gasping for air. Kion feels like doing the same.
“You’re giving us an aphrodisiac?” he growls in a low, dangerous tone.
The candymaker blinks, apparently unsure what the problem could possibly be.
“Well, a low dosage, yes: But Besottium is nothing dangerous! The, ah, physical urges it gives you are fleeting. They wear off after an hour or so.” Cruttenbolt huffs and puffs.
“We have ethics, morals—this isn’t that terrible lacker drug Miranda. ”
“Molly,” corrects Kion.
“Indeed. These are simply delicious, over-the-counter candies to spice up a sweet love life.” Cruttenbolt adjusts his red tie, sounding like the perfect salesman.
“You remain in control the entire time, and I do say, if you’d like an immediate antidote rather than the usual natural method, one of your kind’s glyphs ought to do the trick.
Don’t you have a sort of Head-Clearing one? Hm?”
There is indeed a kind of glyph that does that, but Kion frowns, glancing at Taissa.
He doesn’t mind whoring himself out if it means money for the team, but he’d never ask her to do something as uncomfortable as this.
“Isn’t there a different candy we could use?
” he demands, knowing full well that there are hundreds of thousands of candies in the shop as he speaks.
“None as new and in need of marketing as the Pleasure Pops.” Creevus Cruttenbolt is beginning to frown.
“I must say, I’m surprised at the reluctance.
If you’d like to leave, you can, of course.
I have other celebrity couples I could reach out to—perhaps another NCL couple…
Aren’t Everest Huang and Belia Anderson a couple? ”
If Niamh’s glare could flay the flesh off Kion’s bones, he’d be a skeleton by now. She looks capable of murder.
“Count us in,” Taissa snaps, and Kion turns to her in shock.
There’s a familiar glint in her eyes: competitiveness.
Cruttenbolt knew what he was doing by mentioning Everest’s name.
She grabs the Pell-Mell Plume and signs her name on the dotted line.
Warily, Kion does the same. As Cruttenbolt sighs in relief, Kion turns to her, lowering his voice.
“Are you sure about this?”
Taissa grimaces before apparently remembering she’s furious at him, and treads on his toes instead. “Oh, perfectly,” she says with a sugary smile. “Aren’t you?”
“I am.” Probably.
“Fine.”
“…Fine.”
Taissa unwraps her Pleasure Pop with gusto, while Kion is more cautious. He’s beginning to realize that this might be Taissa’s revenge. Leaving him throbbing and wanting, uncomfortable in front of the camera. Great. What did he just agree to?
It’s not too bad…at first. They’re fed lines—cheesy lines that Kion grumbles until Niamh snaps her manicured fingers at him like he’s a dog—and half-heartedly try to smile at the camera like Cruttenbolt’s Calamity Candies is their heaven on earth.
Taissa has a hand on his chest. Can she feel how hard, how fast, his heart is beating?
He’s hot all over. Sweat slides down the nape of his neck. He hasn’t even eaten the bloody lolly.
“We come here all the time,” she says woodenly, face expressionless. “It’s just the most magical place for a date.”
“Cruttenbolt’s Calamity Candies holds a special place in our hearts,” adds Kion flatly.
“And the new Pleasure Pops add some spice to our love life,” Taissa concludes darkly before stepping back from Kion like she’s been scalded and glaring at him.
“More emotion! The good sort!” cries Cruttenbolt and Kion sees homicide in Taissa’s eyes.
Niamh must, too, because the elf nimbly hops in, murmuring something about the happy couple needing a break.
Cruttenbolt throws his hands up into the air in frustration as Niamh, grabbing Taissa’s elbow and Kion’s ear, drags them out of the Jumping Jellies room and into what must be a small storage closet, where boxes of Love Pops pile high toward the ceiling.
“Ach, Niamh, stop,” Taissa hisses, but it’s too late: They’re in the closet, and Niamh is blocking the exit with her small frame.
“Whatever is going on with you two today,” the elf sniffs, pointing a finger at each of them, “figure it out. This gig is important! And you’re ruining it!
” With another haughty look, Niamh slams the door shut, leaving them in semidarkness.
When Taissa tries the door, it doesn’t budge—but there’s a loud grunt of determination from the other side.
“Morgana,” seethes Taissa, apparently kicking the door for good measure, “she’s keeping us in!”
In any other circumstances, Kion would plow down the meddling elf with a good hard shove at the door, but a small part of him is grateful.
He should have said something to Taissa out on the pitch, or any time the past two days.
“Taissa,” he tries to say, but what comes out is something more strangled.
Hells. The closet is small, too small, and he breathes in the fragrance of honey and thyme like a dying man gulping down water.
He hasn’t even had the Besottium yet.
Taissa turns to him, and in the dim light, he can make out her narrowed eyes.
“What I said,” he rasps, willing his mind to focus, “what I said—about kicking you off the team—I, fuck, I would never bloody do it. I hate that I said it.” His neck flushes.
“I hate that I lied to you. I ruin everything. I ruined this, too, didn’t I?
It didn’t even take me one bloody hour to turn it all to rubbish. ”
“It took twenty-four minutes and three seconds,” Taissa whispers after a long, long pause, clearly mindful of Niamh waiting just outside.
Kion blinks. “Fucking what?” he asks, because he can’t stop himself.