Page 10 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

In seven years, we will take the thrones. I haven’t had the heart to tell him that a war is already brewing. It was his world—Serpencia—that was decimated because of one. Not that Azaire ever had to see it; he’d already been in Visnatus, spending most of the holidays in the kingdom of Soma with me during the war years. That doesn’t mean his home wasn’t taken.

Yuki looks stumped, and I take matters into my own hands. “Then let us hope I do something more worthy of war than hosting a party.”

I am much too diplomatic to let a war be waged over something as silly as a party. However, these things are never in my control.

Azaire leaves the room, walking straight to mine. It’s his way of beckoning me, and he is one of two people I’d ever follow willingly.

Yuki puts two fingers to his eyebrows and flicks them out, sending me off.

Azaire knows me too well to not know what I’m doing, and this is proven to me when he says, “You don’t have to do this.”

“The party, or the wedding?” I ask.

“Both,” he says, and I can hear the optimism in his voice.

“We both know that’s not the truth.”

His steely gray eyes lock on mine. “Don’t let them take more of you. If you have to do it, find a way to do it for yourself.”

Azaire, always the wise. I envy his heart, even when I see it as a weakness. Alas, I cannot believe there will ever be a way to do anything for myself.

“No surrender,” he says with more conviction than usual.

“No surrender.” I nod. One day I will show the worlds what he is. For if a king can praise a Nepenthe, then the worlds can too.

After a moment, he adds, “I still don’t think the party is a good idea.”

“Neither do I,” I confess. “It wasn’t planned to be a good idea.”

The last thing he says is, “I see.”

We go back to his room, and Yuki raises his sword with a smile and a question in his purple eyes. Ready? I nod and he bolts up, practically skipping out of the room.

We head to the spare combat room and warm up with wooden staffs before moving on to our bladed swords. A favor for me; the Armanthine don’t have to worry about something so inconsequential as a wound to their impenetrable skin.

Yuki is one of the most skilled fighters at the academy. He had to be if he wanted to keep his place in the Soman kingdom. Armanthine are kept around for their talents of reading minds, and despite the bond he and I have formed, he is still replaceable in all other eyes.

I allow him to stay that way. Being irreplaceable to me is a sentence for torture. So while the boa staff warmup is a favor for me, the training is a favor to him. As a future king and Aibek, I don’t need to be able to use a sword. The role of king is an intellectual one to Soma. Besides, I have plenty of power without a blade.

“Come on, you can do better than that, man,” Yuki says as my sword falls to the floor.

“You’re right.” I pick up my weapon and prepare to fight again. “I can.”

Yuki does not hold his sword for a fight. “You wanna talk?”

“About forced marriages?” I scoff. “I couldn’t think of anything more delightful.”

“Nah, man, about anything.” We’re both silent for a moment before he says, “When you’re in your head, you get a little…” he holds out both his hands and shakes them.

“Fighting is more relaxing than venting.” I hold my sword up again, and I don’t get any argument from him.

I win some of our duels, and Yuki wins the others until it is time for us to head to War Strategy. This is my smallest class by far, reserved only for those who will be taking the highest placements in government. Which means Kai, Calista, and my sister Lilac are here. Recently, I’ve been receiving hostile stares from the former two for the entirety of class.

Our tables are stacked in escalating rows like an amphitheater, and I have the honor of sitting in the very front. Lilac sits next to me and Aralia sits behind her, always avoiding both of us. Needless to say, this is a highly unpleasant class.

We’ve been covering the Serpencia War for the last half a year, dissecting both sides and how the Folk ultimately defeated the Nepenthe into complete submission. Mr. Ickehart talks like it was a grand plan and a wonderful maneuver. What truly happened was this; the Folk killed the majority of the Nepenthes’ already dwindling population and offered the survivors two choices: swear their loyalties to Lorucille or die.

“Lorucille didn’t want to kill all of their Nepenthe, and yet with ascending numbers choosing death over loyalty, there were a dwindling number of options to convince these creatures to choose peace over further bloodshed.” Mr. Ickehart walks closer to the map of Serpencia sprawled across the wall. “How can you convince a creature who relishes in blood to not spill more?”

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