The Valley of Lies (Lightkeepers #1)

Chapter FORTY-EIGHT: Liss

"Ladies, welcome to my Coven. You're all looking gorgeous this evening." The sickly sweet voice sounded close, but the room was pitch black. Which was especially disconcerting for an elf accustomed to seeing well in the dark.

Were the witches using magic to observe them, or was it a parlor trick?

Liss supposed it was Domira speaking. From what Zan had told her of the Triumvirate's self-appointed leader, no one else would be bold enough to stake claim to the Coven. Not when Domira had his sister's dragon fire.

"Tonight, we'll begin with a special introduction, as any momentous occasion should. I hope you noted the number on your card. Twenty of you were invited here to play a game with me and my friends, but there can only be one victor."

That didn't sound good.

"Stay where you are. Instructions will be delivered to you each separately. This is a unique game, and as such, the rules will be individualized. Which also means..." The tension drew out, echoes of the witch's drawling speech circling in the dark. "Each of you will be playing alone."

That didn't sound good either. Would they be playing blind, too?

Liss balled her hands into fists underneath her cloak. It was tempting to use the cover of darkness to flip the cloak around. But if Domira or any of her cronies were watching—with magic or by other means—the game would be over before it started.

A blended aroma of wine, smoke, floral perfume, and some other faint but vaguely familiar odor wafted around, humid with the anxious breaths of the twenty women huddled together. Liss took a step out of line, hoping for a taste of fresher air, and was tugged forward by an unseen hand. From where it gripped her cloak, she figured it was another imp.

"You remind me of my friend. Come with me." It sounded like a child. A little girl—?

Liss still couldn't see anything. But it was unexpected that a child would be at the Revelry, let alone in the ballroom; if that's even where they were.

Her eyes uselessly searched the darkness. The little voice giggled, pulling her along. "Do you like Truth or Dare?" Was that the name of a game? "I prefer Dare or Dare, if it's all the same to you."

A flurry of movement and exclamations rang out as more young women were plucked out of the group, their startled gasps and protestations giving away their staggered positions. There were definitely imps wandering around, too. Their foul odor came in waves, intensifying Liss' nausea. But it wasn't an imp that had singled her out. At least she didn't think so.

Hadn't Zan said one of the witches resembled a child?

"Dare or Dare is simple. I give you two choices, and you pick one. I'll go easy on you at first, since you were cordially invited. Let's start with 'A.' Deal?"

Was she supposed to agree?

Liss was pretty sure the young gamemaster was speaking the human tongue, and although she'd been able to converse with Bazel in the courtyard, she worried that this child—one of the Triumvirate?—might detect something amiss in her speech.

Better to keep it simple, then. She nodded, unsure whether anyone would see it. Unsure what she was agreeing to. "Fine."

"Just fine?" The child huffed. "You're a plucky one, aren't you? Fine, fine. Here's your first Dare: Attack or Adapt. Choose wisely!"

It was an odd game, but of the two so-called choices, one sounded vastly preferable to the other.

"Adapt," Liss said, trying to mimic the child's accent.