Page 216 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

Lucian raises his head. Veins pop in his forehead and a sheen of sweat covers them. He’s trying to inch away from my touch and give into it all the same.

“Desdemona you don’t understand?—”

“That no one will remember me?” He looks shocked, for a moment. Then he just looks pained. “I understand. But there’s too much misery because of me. Too much pain.”

Do you enjoy pain? From here it seems it.

“That’s not true?—”

Maybe the truth is easier than another lie.

Suddenly I have no more to spew. No more weapons to wield.

“I’ve killed eight people since I’ve been here,” I say. “Even more as a child, but I can’t even remember them all. Whatever this is, I deserve it. And you—you don’t have to bleed until we’re even. It was never going to be a fair playing field with me in the game.”

He points at his chest but the gesture is weak. “And I lied to you. I got close to you to use your power for myself. I kidnapped and tortured your father!” I watch the tears well in Lucian’s eyes while the shadows around the room begin to swirl again. “I killed my best friend… Whatever you did to think you deserve this, I’ve done worse. And I won’t doom you, too,” he strains. “I can’t.” His hand reaches out to me, but it shakes. Like he wants to touch me but his body—whatever spell has him—won’t let him.

I pick it up for him and the second I do, the shadows wrap around my legs. Good.

“Well then we’ve both done terrible things,” I say. My lip quivers and it’s beyond my control. “But I’m yet to pay for mine.”

The cold wraps around my throat and my eyes well until I can’t breathe. Lucian’s hand shakes and he screams out my name. But as the light of the room goes out, so does his voice.

Until a slow clap fills my ears.

“You should have run,” Lucian whispers.

“Good, son.” My eyes land on the most horrifying sight I’ve ever seen. A burnt figure with ashen skin and orange disgustingly shiny blisters covering its body.

Like my hand and forearm that everyone can see now, since the glamour has worn out.

“Lucian,” I wheeze, clawing at the immaterial shadows. I couldn’t use my weapons against him, but I’ll use them against that.

This is what people think I am?

“Let,” I breathe, “me go.”

I fall to my knees, where I stay to catch my breath. Lucian turns to the creature. There’s only one measly guy, Lucian and I can take him.

But Lucian isn’t fighting him.

“Lucian,” the Arcane says.

Lucian’s hands are clenched so tightly that I see every one of the veins in his arms. His face is red as blood. “No,” he chokes out.

“You’ll have to forgive my son,” it says to me, stepping closer. When a long, burnt finger comes close to my face, I catch its wrist. I stare into its eyes. Red like mine. I hope I look dangerous. I hope I look scary.

I hope he doesn’t see how afraid I am.

I hope Lucian does.

But the thing smiles. “He is going to be so happy to finally meet you.” Then it jerks its wrist from my hold and turns to Lucian. “Lucian Aibek, I relieve you of your favor.”

His hands unclench, his body stops shaking, and with one strong movement of his arm, the Arcane is wrapped in shadows.

“You are her ruin,” it says, peeling the shadows away like they are tangible. “Not mine.”

Aralia and the others all run in before I’ve even managed to comprehend those words.

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