Page 27 of Immortal Game

Together, they sifted through the underbrush until they found delicate sprays of heath-fruit. Cradled in her hand, they looked almost like blueberries, with a little indentation on the bottom that looked like an open eye. Their skin was a blue so deep and rich, it was nearly black. Shea bit into one tentatively, and it burst across her tongue with a tartness that made saliva flood her mouth. Thatdefinitelywas not anything like a blueberry, but it wasn’t bad. “These aren’t poison, are they?”

“You ate one andthenasked?” Ciara said wonderingly. “I will never entertain talk of you being a genius again.”

“Shut up,” Shea muttered. “They’re not, right?”

“Fortunately for you, no.” When Ciara smiled, her cheekdimpled. “In fact, it is tradition to bake them into a cake and present it to the one you fancy.”

“Have you ever made one?”

Ciara shuddered. “I do notbake.”

“Of course not,” Shea replied dryly. “But you’ve gotten tons, I’m sure.”

“Nosy, are we?” Ciara had adopted a haughty tone—but she didn’t answer the question. Instead, she plucked another few berries with determined focus.

The tips of her fingers were stained the color of heavy, dark wine. Shea had the errant thought of placing them against her tongue—and violently suppressed it. As though Ciara was aware of the turn of Shea’s thoughts, she placed a berry in her mouth. Her lips closed around her stained fingertips, and Shea’s mouth went painfully dry. All she had to do was survive a few days of this alliance. It was becoming a taller ask by the minute.

By the time they descended the mountain, the Otherworld was blue and black and purple beneath the twilight, all shadow and heather. The players emerged from the trees a little windblown and muddied—but none as much as Shea, who did her best to ignore the sidelong looks and snickering. She couldn’t wait to burn these clothes.

Midir waited for them beneath the canopy. In the evening light, Shea understood how he’d once been revered as a god. His hair gleamed like poured gold. His skin glowed like the morning sun. Pale, bell-shaped flowers bloomed at his feet. His perfection was almost repulsive. He held a goblet of pure silver loosely in one hand. Even from here, she caught the wild andindescribable scent of faerie wine—and the rich acidity of fermented bilberries.

“Come forward,” he said.

Shea and Ciara went first. Hatred pooled steadily within Shea as they approached him. She did not bother to conceal it. Ciara’s expression, however, remained as cool and smooth as glass. It unnerved Shea a little. When Ciara played chess, calm waters always concealed something dangerous underneath. She really did resent him.

When they stood before Midir, Shea dropped her basket at his feet. A few of the bilberries spilled over the side and rolled across the ground. Ciara followed suit. Midir’s gaze slid back and forth between them. Faint amusement glittered in his single green eye.

“Take care when you stray from the trails.”

Humiliation roiled within Shea. “Noted.”

The mockery faded from him. The full weight of his stare landed on his sister. An entire conversation passed between them in the silence. “This is your choice?”

“It is,” Ciara replied.

“Then you have chosen your downfall.”

Ciara’s smile was bladed. “It remains to be seen if I am as unlucky as you.”

Shea frowned, puzzled by the exchange, but Midir seemed to understand her barb. His lips thinned. Obviously, he wanted to say something more. In the end, he only said, “Clasp hands.”

They did. Wind stirred the heath into motion, all the leaves and branches clattering ominously around them. At first, nothing happened. And then, Shea heard a splintering sound.

Their wooden fetters had sprouted new growth.

Horror made her blood run cold. Before Shea could jerk away, vines twined up their forearms, trapping her in place. Magic passed between them like an electric current, so bright and hot it seared her very soul. Just when the sensation swelled to the edge of pain, it faded.

The panic bled out of her slowly. Whatwasthis? Delicate young branches bound them together, wrist to wrist, like the ropes in a handfasting ceremony. Midir really did have a sick sense of humor.

“It is done,” Midir said. “The next round will begin in five days.”

Five days to endure Ciara. Five days to devise a strategy. Five days until she was another step closer to Aideen. It filled Shea with an icy determination.

As soon as they were out of earshot, she asked, “What was all that about?”

Ciara glanced over at her, her expression preoccupied. The delicate shadows of the leaves patterned her face. “What?”

“What did you mean when you called him unlucky?”