Page 14 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

Kai does not answer my jabs. He squirms, trying to move his legs and his feet, but the shadows will not release until I want them to. I take the moment to say, “It’s a party, Kai. Get over it. I don’t want to marry your sister, and you don’t want to marry mine.”

I turn from Kai and walk up the steps to the exit, releasing him only when I’ve reached the door.

Then the wind is knocked from me and I cannot move a single muscle in my body, not even my lungs. Seizing momentarily, I can’t help but focus on the pain coursing through my body and the feeling of my heart throbbing with heat. It takes me shorter than most and longer than usual to regain my composure.

“It’s always smart to take an open shot.” I don’t bother turning before I leave the room.

Chapter 3

If You Can’t Run, Hide

DESDEMONA

Throughout history, the septic of Lorucille was always a poverty-ridden place. However, after the Arcanian War, with the Folk now holding the Flame, Soma gifted Lorucille the industries of sword crafting and mining. It is believed the septic’s quality of life suffered immensely.

— PIECES OF HISTORY BY HALSEM ARLSEY (REDACTED)

A second before I can find my bearings, a deafening alarm fills my ears and a flashing red light comes on with the pure purpose of making it difficult for me to read Mom’s note. The handwriting is sloppy and hard to follow too. Of course it has to be difficult to read and impossible to destroy.

Desdemona

Tell them your father was Dalin Marquees and that your birthday is four months before your real one. If they ask you to prove this, do what they say. If they use your blood, do not let them see the wound cauterize. Do not take off the necklace, ever. Keep it hidden always. Do not talk about me ever. To you, Isa Althenia is dead. You were raised by a kind family in the septic. They discovered your heritage and sent you to Visnatus before a fire took their lives. In a place like that, knowledge is your greatest weapon yet. You have a keen eye—use it. You mustn’t look for me nor let a soul see this note. If I can, I will find you.

Love you always,

Mom

She’s not coming.

I’m on a different world without my mom. Without anyone.

The silhouettes of two people come into view and the flashing red light becomes one steady yellow one. I never expected I’d be here. When I was younger, Mom used to tell me bedtime stories of this place. The magic and the beauty carried through into my dreams.

But those dreams woke up with the war when I was six.

Before the silhouettes become fully-fledged people, I shove the paper in my mouth, forcing myself to chew it and swallow.

It’s a man and a woman in front of me, watching me. The woman looks foreign, with her bright and scrutinizing blue eyes and gray hair so dark it’s almost black. I’ve never seen a Lucent in real life before. The man is pale, short, bald, and has the same honey-brown eyes as my own. He looks like he could be any old Folk back home, and there’s a comfort in that, but not one I allow myself to lean into.

It’s when I see their mouths move with no sound that I know not only is the man an Air Folk, but they’re also likely discussing my life and death. I’m septic, after all. I’m sure their fancy alarm and flashing lights made sure they knew that.

Another man walks in, with scruffy blond hair and a beard, one hand gripping a weapon sheathed to his waist. Then those gray eyes of his land on me. The same eyes that have killed so many of us. Whipped and beaten us for taking more than our sanctioned rations. So he’s going to be the deciding factor in my life. Well, I’m deciding not to die today.

I’m not very good at fighting, I’m more adept at running. I haven’t got a weapon, nor do I know how to use one very well. I can kill still or seizing corenths, but I’ve never hurt another orphia, other than in my dreams. I wonder if I could.

But Mom made sure I had enough information to survive, so survive I will.

Knowledge is your greatest weapon yet.

Their breaths bounce around the circular cobblestone walls, and I wait for them to address me. When the woman asks my name, I say, “Desdemona Althenia.”

The Nepenthe stiffens. “Bullshit,” he mutters.

“Excuse me?—”

“—Leiholan,” the Lucent reprimands. “What are you doing in Visnatus?” she asks me.

“My father was Dalin Marquees,” I tell her. “A family took me in as a baby and they put together my lineage. They sent me here during a welding accident.” I look at the floor, play with my fingers, and shuffle my feet, and most importantly I keep my eyes open until they dry out, forcing tears. When I look back up, I quiver my lip. “Said if one of us could live, they wouldn’t pass on the opportunity.”

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