Page 57 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

I can’t take my eyes away from my reflection. I look… I don’t know how I look, but it’s different than I’ve ever looked—ever felt—before. So different that I can’t stop looking.

Air brushes my thigh, and I see that Portricia’s cut the dress almost to my hip. I don’t have the energy to feel threatened by the shears in her hands. I just feel… different. A warm feeling bubbles in my chest, and I actually smile. Really, really smile. I can feel it, like a laugh, like a hug. I’m happy, over a dress I guess, which feels ridiculous, but suddenly I’m thinking that this feeling is so rare, so fleeting, that I’ll do anything to hold onto it.

I look at Portricia, into her gray eyes. “Thank you,” I tell her.

She waves a hand through the air. “Anytime, sweets.” Then she is pulling my hands into gloves that reach halfway up my bicep, the same shimmering gold as my dress.

I’m still smiling when I look over at Aralia, whose dress is shining and silver, like a star. It’s tight around her torso and flowing from the waist down, unlike mine, which is straight all the way down. Two sleeves hang around the middle of her bicep, not on her shoulder. I don’t know how that works, but it looks lovely.

Dangling from her ears are straight, long, silver earrings. They make me want to poke holes into my ears. I’d never given it a thought before. My mom always wore the same dull silver earrings. They were never anything special, just familiar, the same, so similar they were almost dependable. I could always count on them being there, unlike most other things. They didn’t make me want to poke holes in my ears, but they do make me miss her now.

“You look like a star,” I tell Aralia. She smiles, and her too-big teeth are on full display. She’ll grow into them, and I get the swelling feeling that I am glad I get to see them before she does.

“Thank you, Desy.” She reaches her hand to mine and hangs on to it, rubbing her thumb against it. It takes effort not to pull my hand from hers. I guess this is what friends do if that’s what she thinks of us. Which she must, if she’s paying for my dress.

“Desy?” I ask.

I’m slightly relieved when she takes back her hand. “Do you like it?”

“It’s better than inferno,” I mumble.

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

Portricia tells us it’ll take her three days to have our dresses ready thanks to her super speed, which leaves me guessing that three days is fast.

“That’s why you’re the best, Trish,” Aralia says and pulls out a little blue bag. She collects a huge handful of silver coins and puts them in Portricia’s hands.

“Aralia.” Portricia smacks Aralia’s upper arm with the back of her hand.

“This is too much!”

“Hide the extra,” Aralia whispers with a wink and a smirk.

* * *

As per my routine, I go to Leiholan again before school, who I’m getting really fed up with. He’s always drinking and rambling, and I swear he purposely tries to get on my nerves. But he teaches me to fight, something I’ve always envied when I watched Damien, something that is going to aid me in the fight for my mom and protecting us back home. So I keep coming back.

Immediately, Leiholan starts rambling about how I need the kids to think I am important, even though I’m just a septic bum. He doesn’t say that exactly, but it’s what he meant and I know it.

“It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not.” He gives me a pointed look that I can easily translate to what he thinks but doesn’t say: that it’s not true. “You have to seem sophisticated. Fear is good too, it’ll keep the self-important kids from picking on you. You’re a Fire Folk, so you already have that in your corner. Though I’m sure you know that the Fire Folk are the feral group of you creatures because of your…” he waves his hands in my general direction. “Less-than-pleasant nature.”

He always begins these lessons with lectures, and I’m itching to unsheathe my spatha sword. I’m determined to tip the blade to his neck this time.

“Yes, I understand, walk like there’s a book on my head and don’t speak unless I have something important to say. And when that happens, be a pompous ass about it too.”

Leiholan looks at me and smiles. It’s a real, droozen smile, but it lights up his entire face. He should do it more often. His finger points at me and he says, “Exactly! Only took you three weeks to piece it together.”

“Can we fight now?” I cut him off.

He looks at me with a wide grin, about to say something, but all I’m hoping for is a yes. He points at me, his mouth opening in anticipation. Then it all dwindles. “No!” He grabs his bottle from his desk and takes a sip. “Droozed. And getting more so.”

“Leiholan?”

“Hm.”

I lift my spatha. “Unsheathe your sword.”

With his eyes on my hands, he laughs. “Sweetheart, with one swing I’d knock that thing outta your hands.”

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