Page 53 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

– COLONEL JENDA’S GUIDE TO SUPERVISING THE LESSER ORPHIA

You know you need a dress,” Aralia says to me while she swipes black over her long eyelashes.

“A dress?” I ask. I’ve been wearing her clothes since I got here—which, truthfully, I’m grateful for. She hasn’t said a thing about my lack of pence, and thanks to her, no other student has noticed.

“For the Gerner,” she says like I should know what it is. Of course, I probably should. She’s going to be the first to learn I’m the worlds’ biggest liar if I don’t up my knowledge.

Suddenly, I’m pissed that with all the hours I’ve spent with Leiholan, he didn’t bother to tell me about this Gerner.

“Right,” I say, smiling.

Looking at herself in the mirror and running a comb through her hair, Aralia says, “We can go to my favorite seamstress after school.” The comb is embellished with gemstones that could feed a whole family for a year. Or years.

She wraps a braid around her head like a crown and turns to face me. “Don’t worry about the pence.”

Yeah, she knows too much.

“Okay.”

I stop in the kitchen before class, picking up a piece of warm toast with jam as I say, “Morning, Eudora.” I’m gonna miss this when I’m back home.

“Grand day, Desdemona,” she says.

I’ve spoken to her enough to know two things—she grew up in a place called Arson’s Alley, and working as a chef in Visnatus is more than she’d ever dreamed. She enjoys this job. I enjoy our chats. I’m almost certain she’s been able to recognize the telltale signs that I’m from the septic, and I’m also certain that I have enough of her trust that she’d never say anything. The indigent stick by the indigent. That much I know. And despite my reservations against Leiholan’s kind, I also know it’s why he’s training me.

I take a bite of the bread and jam, unable to suppress a groan.

“What is this?” I ask.

“Wild berry,” she answers. If I’m correct about her knowing my truth, then she has every idea that I’ve never heard of wild berries. I’m sure it comes from Viridis. They supply the elites of the universe with all their agriculture. The rest of us get nothing but what we can find. “Goes great with cheese,” she says and slides me a little piece of soft, runny cheese. My mouth waters.

“You’re my favorite Eunoia here. Maybe even my favorite person,” I tell her, plopping the cheese onto the bread and then into my mouth. I’ve never tasted something so good, but I could say that about everything Eudora makes.

“Now you’re just being mendacious,” she says, her deep laugh echoing through the kitchen.

Mendacious. One of those words Leiholan taught me. I wonder who taught it to her.

“Trust me, I have my moments, but this isn’t one of them.” I lock my eyes on hers and smile. “My favorite,” I say again.

Pinching a little flour, she flicks it in my face. “Get to class, kid.”

“See you at lunch, adult.”

* * *

Psychology class has to be my least favorite. Except for the fact that I suck at Elemental Magic, never get picked in Combat Training, and don’t enjoy talking about gods who’ve never given me a damn thing.

I guess they’re all my least favorites.

But when Hogan tells us to “Come up with a new way to inspire compliancy among the masses,” and the masses being those from home, I suddenly feel like maybe I could be great at elemental magic.

Maybe I could burn this whole place down.

Hogan also tells us to “think outside the box” and “find a partner.” The two people in the seats next to me get up immediately, and I sit here awkwardly. I’m sure I could do this by myself. Or just not at all. I don’t care about the grade, and I don’t want to think about how to further torture my people.

Lucian slides into the newly open seat next to me. “Partners?” he says, and my eyes strain away from him to a pair of green eyes that hound into me.

“I think someone else has the same question,” I say, and his eyes follow my gaze.

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