Page 132 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

Lucian gives me another glance, and I swear I see his eyes flare when they hover over the wound at my side.

His voice is deep, a rumble, when he says, “Who did this to you?”

My voice is breathy, a whisper, when I answer, “It’s not my blood.”

When one of his hands reaches toward the wound at my side, I catch his wrist. The eye contact between us is too heavy, making it hard for me to choke out, “It’s. Not. My. Blood.”

“And I’m not ignorant. Who did this to you?”

His wrist is in my hand, and he makes no effort to revoke my grip. His eyes are on mine, and there is no choice for me to take mine off of his.

He is everything wrong with the worlds. He’s everything wrong in mine.

It’s with that in mind that I find the strength to say, “You did.”

Something in his face falters, fractures, then falls. My grip on his wrist softens, and I am not sure if it is my doing or his.

Then he walks away, disappearing into the shadows that line the hall. Becoming them.

* * *

In the spirit of not going back to my suite, I go to the training room to throw more knives at shit. But when I walk in, I see a passed-out Leiholan in the corner of the room. I grab the bottle of vesi in his hand and he wakes up with a kick.

He pulls a knife from his boot and brings it to my throat in a movement so quick it was nothing but a blur. I have to admit, being on the other end of this isn’t fun.

“It’s just me,” I say.

Leiholan opens his eyes, then squints them toward the bottle. “Whatchu got vesi for?”

“It’s yours.” I take a long sip.

He swipes the bottle from my hand and drops his knife in one movement. “Then get your own.”

I sit next to him, leaning against the wall, and drop my head in my hands. A second later, I feel the bottle tap my shoulder and look up. I grab it from him, offer a smile, and take a long chug, then I hand it back. We go on like this for a while, passing the bottle back and forth in utter silence until the room spins.

“What’s your problem?” He burps.

“I seem to be a harbinger of chaos today.” The words feel numb on my tongue while I stare aimlessly at the target across the room and all the stabs I’ve made. “What about you?” He looks over his shoulder at me, the movement reminding me of a snake. “You drink over something, don’t you?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “We’re not having this conversation.”

“I wanna know.” A bitter laugh escapes me. “You’re kind of the only person I have left in my life.”

“Kind of?” he says flatly.

“You’re the only person I have left.” A Nepenthe. Who’s actually not that bad. He smiles, and his fangs make me rethink that last droozen sentiment.

The almost empty bottle comes back to me, and I take another long sip. I don’t know how he drinks so much of this stuff. It doesn’t burn like rena, but everything is…

“Thank you,” my words sound groggy, but I don’t know if they came out that way or if it’s just my brain that’s groggy.

Leiholan laughs. “I didn’t know those words were in your vocabulary.”

I sluggishly shove my shoulder into his bicep. Then I drain the bottle. My hands are still covered in metal and blood, and they look bigger through the glass. I’m thankful Leiholan didn’t push for an answer, because I don’t know how I would’ve told him that I think I killed two boys tonight.

Five. That’s the number of people in Damien’s family. I’ve killed the equivalent of Damien’s family.

With how far away I am, it’s almost like I could’ve killed them.

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