Exported [Book 3 in the Expiring Series]

53 Chancing Fate

My body is wracked by shudders as their speaking gives me the chance to process witnessing Ines's slaughter. It was so sudden.

Mid'haa shifts against the bars, her brows furrowed. "Extraterrestre?"

"Oui," Bently says with a deep nod.

"Impossible."

I'd say she's taking the confirmation of the existence of aliens fairly well.

The dungeon door opens, gentler this time, and Isabeau breezes in, avoiding letting her black dress drag in any stray puddles of blood.

She speaks in French despite Anastasie's warning that only Amorian will be tolerated here and then—possibly for my benefit—says in Amorian, "The Preeminence has requested the presence of all of you."

If Odette plans to order the Konkursi to make me presentable for her again, I will claw her eyes out, something her Expiration Date won't be able to prevent me from doing.

The dress she's given me is torn in places. The laurel wreath crown is discarded in the corner of my cell, my hair free to hang around my shoulders and upper back. I pulled the earring out long ago to have something to fiddle with.

Bently is still covered in dried blood. He has debated trying to clean some of it off with the water he's been given to drink but has decided it's too valuable to allocate it anywhere else besides its original purpose.

The three of us stand, and seven guards come in to escort us out of our cells and through the catacombs to where Odette awaits. Anastasie stands by her side behind a small table that holds two silver chalices encrusted with emeralds. The room is dim with torches burning along the walls, the fire glinting off the jewels.

The Preeminence, Beta, and Tresais are all crowned with silver laurel wreaths. Odette wears a purple dress, and Anastasie a red one.

Odette looks calm almost serene despite having just stabbed a woman. She speaks in French and then switches to Amorian as Mid'haa violently shakes her head. "I'd like to offer Mademoiselle Iman a chance to work with me. Non?" She folds her hands in her front of her as she watches Mid'haa who spits out something that I can roughly translate to mean she's not accepting her offer.

As they speak, Bently keeps close to me and translates, "Mid'haa can either accept the offer or chance fate."

"Chance fate?"

"She might die. She might not."

"How does Odette not know if Mid'haa will die?" She's an Amoris. One look in her eyes, and she'd have known immediately.

"She does."

Odette steps out from behind the table, and grasps Mid'haa by the chin. She snaps something in French.

"Odette's calling her foolish."

"Raggioet, choose a chalice." Odette gestures to the table, ire in her voice.

Bently's hand shoots out in front of me. "Why?"

"For Mademoiselle Iman to drink."

My eyes narrow, my fingers digging into the skirt of my dress. "Why?"

"One is poisoned. One is not. If she's fated to die today, then fate will cause you to choose the one with poison. and if it's not her day, then fate will have you choose the other."

I've toyed with fate too much in my life to the point that I'm sure death is just waiting for a chance to get revenge on me.

"You're psychotic."

She releases Mid'haa's chin with enough force that Mid'haa stumbles. "Perhaps you being Expired will ensure you choose the untainted drink even if she is meant to die. After all, how could you cause an Expiration Date when you're not even supposed to be here."

"That's not how this works." Jonas explained this to me. "I can still easily be the one who's been fated to kill her." I shifted off my path in life when I beat fate and lived. My Expiration Date pertains to my path. No one else's. I can still cause deaths.

Odette comes to stand in front of me and raises her hand toward my face. Bently stiffens, and Odette runs her finger down my nose.

"You sound so sure," she says, almost like a purr. If I choose the wrong chalice, it will kill Mid'haa. I would have killed her. I would have caused her death. "Choose a chalice."

"No." Bently puts himself between me and Odette. "I'll do it. Iris won't be able to live knowing she killed her."

"Digamma." Her voice is a threat.

"She's not choosing."

Mid'haa's hands are clenched into fists as her arms tremble. She keeps her face stoic.

"How noble of you, Digamma." Odette spits out the words. "But you choosing defeats the purpose of this experiment." She snaps her fingers, and two guards step forward and drag Bently to the side. "Choose, Iris."

"Fine." I approach the table. I swirl the chalices, peering at the contents of each and sniffing them. They both carry an underlying scent beneath the wine, but one brings me back in time, to my orphanage. The kitchen. To Lilyana cooking. Lilyana who tried to teach us how to use poison.

I pick up the other chalice and carry it to Mid'haa, my heart thundering at the implications of if I chose wrong. With trembling hands, she takes the chalice and hesitates, looking to Odette.

"Drink it."

Mid'haa takes a tiny sip, and Odette lets out something akin to a growl. She yanks Mid'haa back by her hijab and forces the wine down her throat, the wine pouring out over her face and neck, staining the cloth of her shirt and hijab.

The chalice clangs against the floor.

How long will it take to know if I chose correctly?

Anastasie and Isabeau approach her, their eyes fixed on her like predators hunting their prey. 

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