Page 151 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

I crouch down, putting myself at Freyr’s eye level. “Why did she take us to the septic?” My throat burns from the embarrassing threat of tears, and my eyes burn from the deadly threat of fire.

I’m much more worried about the former.

But his eyes tear away from mine, and he looks at Lucian with a kind of disdain I’ve only seen when Folk are looking at the keeper who caught them with extra rations—which always ends in a whipping.

I don’t care to count how many times Damien or I have been on that end.

“I won’t talk with him here,” Freyr says.

Looking up at Lucian, I’m scared that I’m one “no” away from pleading. My eyes do the begging that my vocal cords refuse.

Lucian looks down at me, and for one second, I see him again. But it’s gone before I get the chance to drown in the dark blue seas that swarm in his eyes. Then he’s gone too.

“Show me the memor,” is the first thing he says.

I try to swallow the lump growing in my throat as I pull the necklace from beneath my shirt. Freyr shakes his head and frowns. For a moment he does nothing more than stare. It’s in that moment that I see the truth.

He is who she was before me, and I am who she was after him.

Who she is.

“She didn’t run to escape punishment,” he tells me. “Isa ran so she could raise you.” He tries to pull against the shadows that are wrapped around his wrists and legs, but they don’t budge.

“I’m sorry he’s doing this to you.” I scoot closer to the bars, a show of faith.

“I’m glad it’s not his mom.”

Speaking of moms, “Why would she have to run to the septic to raise me?”

“The Althenia’s used to be highly regarded in the court of Lorucille. They fell from grace when the three of us were caught making the weapon.” It takes years to build and seconds to destroy. That was my entire life, building with broken blocks. Gaining a life and losing it. A fate that I’m not even close to breaking. “Isa didn’t trust what they’d do with you.”

“Are you—” Damn this burning in my throat. I try to clear it. “Are you my dad?”

Freyr shakes his head. “You don’t want me as a dad.”

I hear his answer, and suddenly every other question I had slips away from me. Barely managing, I get one word to slip past my frown. “Arcanes.” I swallow again to clear my throat. “What are they going to do with her?”

I make out the shadow of his frown. “If she’s still alive, then I don’t know. She was a good woman, Desdemona.”

“I know.” The corners of my eyes fill, and I blink away the tears. “She is alive,” I croak. “I’m gonna get there.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. I know you think it’s worth it, but it’s not.”

“How could you say that?” I scoot back.

“I know more about them than you do.”

Despite what he said, this suddenly feels very much like I’m talking to a dad. My dad.

“Then tell me.”

“If the prince is listening?—”

“He’s not.”

“Look, all I can say is that when I was young, there were stories about the return of the… creatures. The Rising, they called it, before saying the word was banned.” His eyes grow heavy in the darkness. “The censorship didn’t begin with your generation, true speak of the Arcanes has been difficult to enact for a very long time.”

“That’s it?” I say. “I mean, that was a whole bunch of nothing.” I know they’re coming back, they’ve been here! I don’t need a fancy title for what’s already happening. He breathes in shakily. “Tell me something that can help me. Like, what can they do, magically? How can I fight one and win?”

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