We exchanged quick, panicked side glances around the table.
Des raised his mug with a trembling hand, tears still glistening on his eyelashes from the bitterroot. "To Liora!"
"To Liora," we echoed in a chorus of strained, hostage-like cheer.
We lifted our mugs and drank.
The spiced cider was actually decent, though it did almost nothing to wash away the horrific, lingering taste of pond scum coating my tongue. I swallowed a massive gulp anyway, smiling brightly like a lunatic.
Across from me, Malachi took a long, steady drink from his poisoned cup. He didn't flinch, didn't hesitate, and set the mug back down on the wooden table with a perfectly smooth, composed nod.
"Incredible," Malachi managed, his voice slightly hoarse. "Truly unique flavor, Liora. Thank you."
"A masterpiece!" Des wheezed, dabbing at a stray tear of agony on his cheek. "Pure nectar!"
"Delicious," Pearl hummed, taking another tiny sip to keep up appearances. "I feel revitalized already."
