Page 31 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

Then I see the reflection glistening off the orange stone of my mother’s necklace. I dive for it, knowing I have no other option. I can’t let go of the last piece of my mom. I shove it in my sock, biting my tongue but still screaming from the pain as the fire licks my body. With every ounce of strength I have left, I make it through the portal.

I fall to the grass, coughing maniacally until I can no longer breathe. I can’t breathe. I’m going to die. I can’t breathe. I’m trying to take in air, but I can’t. I can’t. I’m going to die from choking. Whatever the gods did to save me was just to punish me in the end. How cruel, how sick, how funny it must be for them to watch me squirm.

A hand lays on my back. I spit black soot onto the grass with my coughs. Air fills my lungs.

Aralia.

I fall entirely on my stomach. The only thing I can focus my vision on is the grass tangled in my eyelashes. And I breathe—sweet, sweet air. Sweet survival. Thank Zola.

When my breathing settles, Aralia says, “We’ll have to cut your hair.”

I grab my hair and it crumbles in my fingers, breaking off. I pull out the small knife I stole from the headmistress, and as I prepare to cut it I remind myself that I am alive. A little hair is a price worth paying.

Before I cut, Aralia says, “I could salvage more than that.”

I make what may be the dumbest decision today. I hand Aralia the knife. Closing my eyes and holding my breath, I half expect the knife to submerge itself into my side when I hear the slicing of dead, crisp hair. I feel for the ends. Shoulder length and even, certainly better than what I would have done.

Then she laughs and asks, “Why do you carry a letter opener?”

I shrug, cough again, and shove the letter opener back into my waistband. “You never know when you’ll find unexpected correspondences.”

This time when I look at Aralia, I see her—for the first time—for what she could be to me. Someone useful. She’s smart and clearly observant. She knew I wasn’t sleeping that first morning, maybe knew I left that night, even had proper enough suspicion to ask what I was really doing tonight. She’s my roommate, for better or worse, and clearly wants to be my friend. This all could lead to a seriously convenient situation.

For me.

“What’s on your shirt?” Aralia asks.

I look down and see what could only be my puke. I cup a handful of water and splash the shirt, then my face for good measure.

“Puke,” I say because there really is no good lie. “Bad fight.”

“Same goes for your hair?” Her voice has that sarcastic, pompous edge I’m getting used to.

I smile at her like she said something funny, just to ease the moment, and repeat to her, “Same goes for my hair.”

“Here.” She hands me her silver flask. “Last sip.” Her eyes drag over what must be my less-than-pleasant composition. “You need it.”

“Yeah,” I say, “I do.” A wind sounds in my ear, but I don’t feel a breeze. “Do you hear that?” I ask. It almost sounds like someone’s whispering.

“Hear what?”

I look around, and a second later it ceases. “Nothing.” Then I take the last sip and realize someone is missing. “Where’d Kai go?”

“Calista and Lucian carried him back to his suite.”

I conceal the fear that shakes my bones. “You didn’t mention me, right?”

Aralia runs her fingers across her lips, like a zipper, twists them at the end, like a key, and smiles.

I smile back.

We walk back to the party, and when the opportunity to dance arises, I pull Aralia with me. Show her a friend in case the time comes when I need one. Plus, this is the perfect place to hide, behind the mask of a well-adjusted, happy-go-lucky, I’ve-had-everything-handed-to-me teenage Folk. Now, to use that to my advantage as best as I can manage, because I fear I am going to have to hide here for a bit.

Just until I find my mom.

I find more vesi to supply Aralia, and when she’s droozed enough, I slip away from her and behind Lucian.

“Meet me by the lake in one hour, or I’ll tell everyone what I saw in your memory,” I whisper so only he can hear, and then I slip away again. Plan B is a go.

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