Page 122 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

“With alcohol?”

“Copious amounts.”

Azaire shrugged, and with a sigh he said, “More revenge?”

My voice was despondent as I said, “You know me irrevocably.”

“Do you ever think that maybe you could live your life without… hurting more people?”

I sat up straighter, appalled. “The Arcanes are not people. They ruined my life, they took everything from me.”

His voice was too soft, his heart too kind, too ready to understand, to forgive, when he said, “What will ruining them do?”

“It will make up for what I’ve lost!”

“But it will never bring it back,” he whispered. “You have to start learning to live with what you have now, to find peace with the past.”

“Azaire, I know you had it rough. But it’s not the same.”

“No?” he said. “I may not be forced to do things in the same way you are, but I am, nonetheless. There can still be content.”

“Peace and content can wait until the universe and I are even.”

Azaire was quiet for a while. “We should get out, go to Barely’s or something.”

I shook my head. “I don’t think I can ever go back to the septic.” The dead prisoner has faded a bit, but he is always present.

Carved in my soul with the sharpest of blades.

Azaire smiled a little. “Or something?”

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing my bottle and taking a sip. “I’ll let you know.”

The second week, I didn’t sleep more than thirteen hours. The vesi continued to sustain me in the way that water should’ve. I sparred with Yuki, and when Azaire pushed me to talk, I pushed him away.

The third week, I didn’t sleep more than thirteen hours. The vesi was my only source for something that felt sort of like sanity. The stubble had grown into a full beard along my jaw and the bags under my eyes looked like bruises. I avoided mirrors, and with them people. It would do no good for the kingdom to let anyone see me in such a state. I hid myself for my family and my position.

Then Kai came to me, begging me to save her. The girl that has my sister in a coma. Yet, there I was, following the prince of Lorucille and putting out a fire she started. Telling myself I was doing it to conserve the thing that can offer me the most answers.

Here’s the kicker though, Cynthia couldn’t put out the fire. Cynthia, the woman who taught me everything I know, couldn’t put out a fire from an untrained Fire Folk.

If my mental alarm bell wasn’t already ringing, that would’ve set it off.

That day I felt true fear when I looked into Desdemona’s eyes. Not the kind that I should have. Not in the way that I wish to.

I had to look away, I had to run—because in those moments I knew that one day my eyes would fall on her and I would never be able to move them again. I would be incapacitated like a bug to nectar. Bound to her. Frozen in her warmth that holds the world I only ever got to glimpse.

I’ve never known hunger, but for the first time, I feel it. Unlike a pit in my stomach that is easily remedied with food, this is something that cannot be satiated. This is something that cannot be put into order. Because there is no order to my heart, beating like the wings of a bird encaged.

And if I wasn’t so eager for hers—in my hand to rupture or to revere, I have not yet decided—I think I’d envy her. For she is the only person who has ever returned my wit tenfold.

The fourth week, I didn’t sleep more than thirteen hours. I’m pretty sure my blood was made of vesi at that point. I continued to avoid mirrors, and with them people, until I got the call. Lusia and Labyrinth wanted me in the kingdom.

I put myself back together like a broken vase. With nothing but glue, I cut the mess that was the flop of hair on my head, shaved my scruffy jaw, and even found concealers for the bags beneath my eyes that looked like bruises.

Then I had to give up my standing avoidance of mirrors and people.

I met Lusia and Labyrinth in the throne room. Lusia kissed my cheeks and Labyrinth clasped my shoulders. The former threw around words like “darling,” while the latter called me “son.”

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