Page 11 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

“You threaten their loved ones,” Jermoine, a Folk, says.

Mr. Ickehart points to the voice at the back of the class with a faux smile. He begins to say, “Yes,” only to quickly switch to, “No! Bloodshed, people, bloodshed! If they enjoy it, you can’t threaten more of it.” Mr. Ickehart looks at me with the palms of his hands pressed together and his fingers under his smiling chin.

I spin the little silver wolf in my pocket.

“You threaten the loss of it,” I try to sound at least minimally excited, for him, though my tone does not get the message.

Mr. Ickehart nods. “If they did bind their loyalty, they got to remain as soldiers.” He scoffs out a laugh. “You can’t think as yourself if you want to win. You have to think as the enemy.”

The truth here is that, if they didn’t remain as soldiers, their world—which was already in shambles—would’ve faltered even further. It’s not as if Lorucille didn’t threaten their loved ones, because that unspoken combination was clear to anyone with wit.

Behind me, Eleanora, Breck, and Yuki whisper about the party. I smile to myself, and as I take in Kai, I know he’s hearing what I’ve planted.

Mr. Ickehart clears his throat. “Is there something you three would like to add to the discussion?”

“Oh, no, sir,” Eleanora says.

“Just roleplaying as the enemy,” Yuki adds.

Mr. Ickehart scoffs, and when class is over he says “Lucian” while beckoning me to him with his finger. I join him and he says, “You’re excelling here.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You know what your father says,” he begins. “Wit?—”

I join him, “Wit wins wars. Yes, I know.”

He smiles and clasps my shoulder. “I’m going to make sure he knows how well you’re doing. It’s a shame they have to put the Contarini boy on your throne.”

* * *

While I wouldn’t call Lucent Studies—my next class—enjoyable, I would call it more enjoyable than War Strategy. Not today though, as a group of Nepenthe—falsely called volunteers—are brought in for us to practice our cerebellum manipulation.

I scan the group for Azaire, my fear hanging over me like a knife. It’s a breath of fresh air every time I don’t see him.

A short girl with long silver hair to match her big gray eyes is assigned to me. I softly tell her I am sorry when no one else can hear me. The corners of her mouth tilt up for a second and she nods at me. Then I reach into her brain.

It is a light feeling for the uninitiated, comparable to a soft tickle I’ve been told. But I am not under the false impression that this is her first time being subconsciously manipulated by a Lucent, which means she can most likely feel the pull I have on her mind. The different ways I am tugging her cerebellum as though it is nothing more than the strings of a puppet.

“Very good, Lucian,” Cynthia—Headmistress Constance—says to me. This is the only class she teaches. The only reason she does is because she’s the most powerful Lucent in Visnatus. She, in particular, knows my disdain for the treatment of the Nepenthe. She even agrees with me, but orders from the Royals are orders, after all, and there is no disobeying. They have a curriculum for us—particularly for Lilac and me.

When she tells me to make my Nepenthe fight the other, I know she isn’t happy about it, and I feel entirely too selfish when I recall Kai and my past fights since hearing of the engagements.

Two fighting puppets is exactly what we are.

My Nepenthe, whom I wish I knew the name of, steps towards Lilac’s. We fight with hands alone, my small girl landing punch after punch on her boy. I feel sick to my stomach, and I am sure the Nepenthe do too.

Lilac doesn’t look at me; she never does when she feels guilty.

When Cynthia finally says, “Enough,” I release the girl’s mind at once. I hope that making sure she did not take too many hits is enough to help her forgive me. Hope is the key word, because I do not delude myself into thinking that it is.

Lilac comes to me when class is over. By the way she carries herself, I can see she is queasy as well. “I hate them,” she says.

Lusia and Labyrinth.

“As do I.”

“How can they keep making us do this?” she cries. “They’re only making it harder for us to establish peace.”

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