Page 72 of A Liar's Twisted Tongue

“Vesi?” I ask, catching the attention of an older woman with bright blue eyes and dark hair.

“Duh,” Aralia says, and I look away from the woman.

We walk through the room of chattering students and adults alike. I’ve never had so many eyes on me. Suddenly I’m extra grateful for the dagger strapped to my thigh and maybe even the girl who gave me it. I want to look like a worthy opponent, because amongst these glances there must be someone sizing me up, ready to fight.

There always is.

I know we’re walking up to Lucian before Aralia taps his shoulder and he turns around. He’s with Yuki and the Nepenthe with the blue beanie, dark skin, and eyes that wander through the room. I look in his direction, fixate on the second-to-top button of his suit shirt, but I don’t dare meet his gray eyes.

“Fill my flask?” Aralia says, and if I didn’t know to look I would never see the sly passing of her flask to Lucian. It’s filled and back in her hands before anyone even bats an eye. This must be a routine.

“Can’t take your eyes off my body, Marquees?” Lucian asks. He knows why I’m avoiding his gaze.

All I can see now is the boy with the crooked nose and messed up suit and hair, on account of me. The boy whose fingers brushed my cheeks and whose lips occupied my mind these past nights more than I’d like to admit.

The boy I can never have, let alone want.

“It’s a nice body, what can I say?” I arm my voice with boredom, even though my heart is pumping blood at an obnoxiously fast rate.

Then Aralia picks up my hand, pulling me away and saying, “Thank youuu.” She twirls my hand over our heads while she spins. It’ll be good to look like I have friends.

“Marquees?” Lucian calls, and Aralia stops instantly. I give her a look, then I give Lucian one worse. I wonder if he’s thinking about that night. “Save me a dance.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

Lucian smiles, and even against the silver of his suit his teeth are perfect. A reminder of who he really is, and what that night really was.

I knew from the beginning it’d be best to keep my distance. But I pulled him in, and now if I don’t push him out I’m going to deal with the consequences.

Like being kicked out of the school and having no chance of finding my mom.

Or getting killed.

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Then he winks, and I’m turning around before I have the chance to think twice.

“What was that about?” Aralia says, but she’s too giddy.

“Nothing.” I steal a glance over my shoulder, but Lucian isn’t looking anymore. I don’t even know why I’m looking back. It’s ridiculous. I’ll never belong here or with him, and I don’t want to. Suddenly, I am sure that the older Lucent with the dark hair who won’t take her eyes off me knows it too.

Aralia picks up two glasses of pink tea on our way to the corner of the ballroom. When we get there, she hands me one and says, “Down it before the dancing starts.”

“Are you gonna put the vesi in it?”

She grins a lopsided little smirk. “Already did,” she says, like it’s the easiest thing in the worlds.

With the Lucent woman watching me, I’m not sure I should be drinking. But on the other hand, with the Lucent woman watching me I’m sure I should be drinking. I debate for a moment and drink half—just to be safe.

Aralia wipes her mouth and looks at me with wide eyes. “You’re not finishing?” I shake my head. “More for me.” She grabs my glass and downs it with a gulp. Then she grabs her flask and takes another sip. One long exhale later and she’s dragging me across the floor again, to the middle of the room.

I spot Leiholan in the back. Even in a gray suit and slicked-back hair, he looks like a droozy. I don’t know how he got the role he has in this school.

Aralia picks up my hand and spins me, which I wasn’t ready for at all. When she starts dancing with me, I find myself asking, “Where are the rest of your friends?”

She frowns. “They’re not good friends.” I kind of hope that she doesn’t think I’m a good friend, because I’m sure that whoever they are would be much better than myself in terms of friendship with Aralia. But I dance with her while she makes pointed looks across the room.

“What is it?” I ask after she’s looked in the same direction for the fifth time.

“My mom,” she says with a frown. “She wants me to re-enroll in Acansa.”

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