Page 146 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

“Perhaps.” She shrugs. “Put it out.”

What? Put out a fire? She is insane. There’s absolutely no way I’d be able to do that. Here or anywhere. In a magicless universe or in a universe with more magic. I’m a Fire Folk. We live and die by the fire, we don’t control it.

Her red lips rise. “Or I’ll make sure every Royal knows of the attack the septic girl raised against the headmistress.”

My chest is rising and falling faster than the tide. I run my hands through my hair, tugging on the braids at the top of my head so hard that my scalp stings. The fire is stretching across the room. Two walls are already covered.

I’m gonna die.

This crazy hag is going to kill us both.

Suddenly, I feel cold. I haven’t felt cold in months. Now I’m shivering. Zola? I know I only come to you when it’s life or death, but Mom used to always tell me that I’m the thing that was here to right all the wrongs. The good to outdo the bad. I thought she was crazy, but maybe, by some slight crazy chance, you agreed, and if she was right then maybe, please, just maybe let me live? For the last time, I swear. This is the last time I’ll ask this of you. The fire is getting closer to me. It’s inches from my feet. Please let me live, please.

Let me live.

I close my eyes, because I guess I’d prefer to remember myself with soft, healthy skin and not burnt to a crisp. The fire touches my skin, and I’m not cold anymore.

Please, fire, go out. Please go out. I pretend it’s gone, like I’m in some pretty meadow. Like I’m in the septic. Maybe this is the aftermath of life. Alone, on the grass, under the sun.

Where’s Damien? Mom? Will they meet me?

Am I dead?

“Desdemona?” a voice asks. Lucian. He’s here. I hate that I’m smiling, but he’s looking at me like he used to. Back when he thought I was something different than I am. I think I’d like to be that person. I think that’s why I smile when he pushes the pieces of hair that I tugged out of my braid behind my ear. He looks at my lips, then at my eyes, and he smirks a little. “Open your eyes.”

I do.

I’m in my bed. The suite bed. My skin is fine from what I can see, but I check every inch anyway. I’m fine and I’m alive.

There’s something in my pocket.

The white-and-blue box of matches. My head is fuzzy. If what just happened with the headmistress was a dream, then where did this come from? Light fills my vision when I sit up. Dizzy.

Dehydrated.

There’s a bottle of water by Aralia’s bed. Screw her. I take it and I chug, but when I get to my feet I’m still wobbly.

It’s raining outside. It wasn’t the last time I was awake.

I’m not sure if I’m alive or dead, and I’m not sure how to figure it out either. Maybe I could try to talk to someone. I stumble out of the room and find Aralia on the couch.

Whatever. “Do you know how I got here?”

I think I see a hint of compassion in Aralia’s eyes. “You came back really droozed. You’ve been sleeping for a day.”

“Oh,” I say. I don’t believe it. “Thanks.”

My eyes sting. Why do my eyes sting so much? I start coughing, hacking really, but I pull myself together enough to get out of here.

“Hey!” Aralia says. “Can we talk?”

“What about?” She opens her mouth but says nothing. “I don’t have all day.”

“Um,” she hesitates. “You should eat cailiberries before you drink. It’ll help with the side effects.”

I’m still for a moment too long. She wanted to tell me to eat berries before getting droozed? After standing by while I was being attacked.

“Okay,” I say. Then I go right to the headmistress.

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