Page 18 of The Lies We Conjure
“Definitely don’t do that. We already look guilty enough.”
“That’s what it’s for.”
“Not when we’re suspects.”
On furious, uneven steps, my sister crosses the room, lower lip wobbling. She sweeps both hands into mine and her whisper drops until she’s nearly mouthing the words. “We shouldn’t be suspects at all. We’re not actually related to Marsyas.”
“Yes, becausewe’re imposters,which makes us look like bigger suspects, not lesser ones.”
Wren’s hazel eyes bore into mine, striking under the curtain of her dark bangs and the smoky sheen of her makeup. “Then we vanish too. We run. That’s what you wanted to do before we walked into whatever the cursed hell this is. Let’s do it. Let’s go.”
She’s suddenly craning her neck, searching for an escape route that’s not there. No alternate door, no window, no fireplace flue. Dropping my hands, Wren strides forward, eyeing a vent above the coffee table. “Watching all those action movies with Dad is about to pay off. I just hope the Hegemonys clean their air ducts. Give me a boost.”
“I—”
“Are you all right in there?” Evander pounds hard enough to rattle the lock.
Shit.
“Yes! Just a minute!” Wren calls sweetly. Then, to me, she whispers, all shiny eyes and trembling lips, “We’resoscrewed.”
I place my hands on her shoulders and lean into her ear. “This is what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back out there, and when the opportunity presents itself, we run. No hesitation, we just do it. You and me. If Marsyas suddenly reappears, she’s on her own. Got it?”
Just as I did when we arrived, I tug on Wren’s hand. Pinky to pinky.
She nods, watching our fingers twine together. Then, she pastes her Blackgate smile straight back on, and paws the fresh tears away from her eyes. When she answers, it’s in her accent, prim, proper, and lip-curling.
“You and I just spent six weeks doing festival falafel improv, we know how to exit a scene.” She sniffs and draws her shoulders back. “And how to enter one.”
I tug at her hand.
“Flirty but respectful,” I remind her in a whisper because we both know over-the-top is her comfort zone. “We feel sorry for him—”
“I do.”
“You do. And you’re worried for Marsyas—”
“I am.”
“You are. You can do this, Kaysa.”
Wren nods. I breathe a thin sigh of relief. Together we unlock the door.
Evander is waiting for us, propped against the wall, just as he was before—and I’m relieved he wasn’t leaning in, eavesdropping. Wren greets him with a worried smile. “Nona isn’t in there, I’m afraid. Is another washroom nearby? Somewhere else she would’ve gone?”
His handsome features are as taut as a bowstring. As if he surfaces the feelings underneath, he’ll snap.
“There are sixteen bathrooms in this residence, and we have a will reading to attend. While I would prefer all parties be present for the reading, we must be going. We’ll search in more detail for your grandmother after our conference in Ursula’s study.” Then with the politeness of a request but the urgency of an order: “Please, they’re waiting.”
“Yes, of course,” Wren replies. “Lead the way.”
I squeeze my sister’s hand as we follow Evander into the mysterious halls of Hegemony Manor.
CHAPTER8
AUDEN
The finality of it all roars in my ears.
