Page 149 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

“Gee, thanks.”

“You’ll figure it out.” He pats my shoulder and walks past me, to his closet of vesi. He pulls out a new bottle and drinks and drinks. I wait a few moments. Let his faculties break down.

“That first day, when I told you my real name, why didn’t you believe me?”

He curses under his breath and rubs his hand against the scruff of his jaw but doesn’t turn to face me.

“Leiholan?”

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look at me, but my eyes are burning into the back of his head. “I knew a girl with your name before. Althenia,” he says slowly, almost like he misses the name. I do too. “I thought you were talking about her.”

“And she couldn’t have a kid?”

“She’s dead. Then again, so is your mom, but I knew Anise during the war.”

The war, he knew her when I was six. “Was she a Folk?” I ask. Althenia is a Folk name, not Nepenthe.

“Yep.” He takes another sip. “My wife too.”

“Did you fight?” I ask. “In the war?”

“I did.” Another sip. “And before you get snippy, Anise survived it.”

“Then what killed her?”

This time, he chugs his vesi. “Your Royals.” He looks up at me and laughs, the tip of his bottle pointed at me, and a small amount of the clear liquid spills on my feet. “Oh yeah, you should’ve seen what they did to us in the aftermath.” He tips the bottle back again. “But they’d never show you.”

“They kept bringing you guys back to the septic, to kill us, even after the war. They kept you all employed?—”

“Who do you think trained us to kill like that? All our facilities and schools are run by Folk. Trust me, it’s no incident that we’re your keepers,” he spits. Before I can begin to tell him off he adds, “I’m not having this conversation with you.”

“You never want to have any conversation with me other than the ones where you’re telling me what to do!” I shout.

“Because you’re never going to hear me!” His face is red, and a vein in his forehead is raised. I walk to the back of the room. I swing open the doors to the armoire and grab myself another spatha sword.

I used to hate it, but now I can’t imagine fighting with anything else.

“Day one, you told me if I won in a duel, you’d grovel for my cause. New rules—I win and you tell me your version of the truth.” I raise the spatha sword just like he taught me.

Leiholan claps while he laughs. “My version! You Folk are so vain. The saddest part is this: you’d be the first of the kids here to understand. What they do to you in the septic is exactly what they do to us.” He takes the sword that he has strapped to his back, and I raise mine, ready to fight. But he throws it clattering at my feet. “I’m not going to fight you, sweetheart.” My breath is ragged, and I still have the spatha ready to strike. “One of these days, when you’re ready to listen, maybe I’ll talk. But for now, get the fuck out.”

I throw my spatha sword down next to his, and then I get the fuck out.

What is wrong with me? Is Leiholan right? Am I the problem? He just told me his wife is dead and I—no, he turned it into a fight, not me. He started going on about how bad the Folk are when the Nepenthe have always been the killers.

Basement of the school, where are you? I open every door I’ve never considered before, but they’re only classrooms and closets. I try to ask students where the basement might be, but most of them walk fast in the opposite direction. The rest of them run.

Until one girl, who barely reaches my shoulder, tells me, “There is no basement.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Lucian could’ve been lying, and yet, if he was, what’s his goal? If he wants to kill me, he could do it anywhere, at any time. No one would stop it, they’d be closer to cheering him on.

An hour later, after opening door after door and walking in on things I shouldn’t have seen, I go into the rain.

There are a few doors along the side of the building, wooden and withered, and the few that open are rooms full of webs and no stairs. I walk along the building for a while longer.

And step on a trapdoor. Rusted to the floor, but as far as I can tell, it’s not locked by magic. I do the sane thing; find a big rock and smash it until my hand and head hurt and the lock snaps in half.

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