Page 91 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

“Marquees! Run!”

The corenth scurries away and I let go of my dagger, putting my hand on my pen. And then I fall into my default mode.

A liar.

“Run from what?” I ask. I don’t even really know why I’m lying, all I know is that I can’t let the boy who knows too much know more. Admitting to the corenth feels like admitting to something. Corenths don’t approach orphia, and orphia don’t hear whispering in their heads.

But he’s also the only one who looks at me the way he is looking at me now. With wonder, like I’m some great work of art he wants to devour every stroke of and learn every color. I feel like a fraud when he looks at me like this, but I don’t want him to look away.

“The moonaro,” he says, but the corenth is gone.

“I didn’t see anything.” I stick my notebook in my waistband.

He nods. “Perhaps I am mistaken.”

Maybe he is the one I could tell the truth to. The one who would understand. I think I could tell him. It wouldn’t take much work to say the words.

But it’s not just words. It’s the dreams, the septic, and the truth of when the whispering—which he thinks are migraines—started. It’s not just the Lucent I killed either. It’s the Folk.

It would be telling him: hey! I’m a liar and an even bigger murderer than you thought, and the cherry on top is, I’m from the septic too!

So when he says, “I need to tell you something,” I have the horrific hope that it will be something I can use against him when the time arises. Something to keep the boy who knows too much from divulging my secrets. I follow him into the mastick. His voice is a whisper when he says, “The day we tracked your mom, corenths started attacking the orphia unprovoked.”

I think of Damien and Janice and how they thought a corenth had killed my mom, days before we tracked her.

“Are you sure you didn’t see anything?” he asks again.

“Positive,” I say, maintaining eye contact and forcing myself not to flinch.

“Alright,” he says, looking down and then past me. “We should get back within the barrier.”

Is following him an act of admittance? I’m not sure and I’m tied for words so I do just that.

“What were you doing at the coast?” he asks me.

For some reason, despite everything, telling him that I was watching for a dead man to float to the surface doesn’t seem like the right thing to say.

“Just journaling. What were you doing?”

“Something similar,” he answers. “The coast is quiet.” But the way he is looking at me is different than usual.

We walk back to the school in utter and unusual silence. When we’re within the walls, he says, “I have a matter to attend to. I’ll see you soon?”

“Yeah,” I say gently with a smile. I hope it reaches my eyes. “See you soon.”

Chapter 19

Birth Of A Vendetta

LUCIAN

Every greater corenth has a specific method of death. A kappa needs a Serpencian metal only found in a select few weapons. A moonaro must be beheaded with the spatha sword. The fatta scorpion is, on paper, the easiest: steal its heart. Good luck getting past its shell, however.

– HISTORY AND CORENTHS BY JJ ARIST (UNPUBLISHED)

When Wendy comes to my suite and says, “We need to talk,” I know that the glamour has been lifted from the book.

She walks out into the hall and I turn in the opposite direction. “We should get Azaire?—”

---