Page 28 of The Lies We Conjure
Absolutely blank.
Before I can stop her, Wren reaches a probing hand between the wires.
“No—”
My hand shoots out between her fingers and the fence, preventing her from touching it… and grazes the nothingness in between.
With a yelp, I snatch it away as if I’ve touched a hot pan on a stove.
Only it’s worse. Much worse.
The skin of my knuckles and the tops of my index and middle fingers on my right hand immediately frays and peels away. The fingernails are just gone, swaddled in a mass of sausage-casing skin, the ridges of flesh along tips of bone are exposed—as red and raw and throbbing as a literal beating heart.
Wren takes one look and screams.
I bite down the wail forming in my throat as the pain tears through me. My gut lurches, and I again fight the urge to lose the meager contents of my stomach along with my gumption because it’s clear now that we can’t go out, we can’t stay in, and they’ll be on us in—
“Turn around with your hands up, and relics clear.”
Auden.
His words are not commanding or even mean, but they’re an order. Over the searing agony of my hand, I vaguely wonder why he didn’t just use whatever magic he possesses to physically stop us. There was nothing in Ursula’s litany of rules that said they couldn’t use magic against two would-be escapees, only against each other during the search for the masters and the murder investigation.
But Auden would know more about magic than me, who learned of its existence mereminutesago.
Wren is whimpering at my side, as she cups my wrist with a furious flurry of “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Tears are on the run down herface, her expertly applied liner bleeding into the hollows under her eyes, mascara gathering in the corners. She’s white as a sheet. I have no doubt I’m much worse. My cheeks are wet, and I’m in so much pain, my teeth have started to chatter.
And soof coursemy little sister squeezes her eyes shut, opens her big mouth, and argues. “Why? You can kill us facing away just as easily as you can kill us looking at you. I’d rather not have your murderous sneer as the last thing I see.”
“Kaysa, I’m not going to kill you.” Auden’s voice is calm and moving closer through the brush. Judging from the volume, he’s only feet away now. And probably not alone. I don’t know what he can do as a witch, and I don’t really want to find out. “I have no interest in seeing any more dead bodies tonight.”
I suck in a breath and blink at the wall of literal nothingness ahead of us. Our only other, terrible option. “So what are you going to do?”
He clears his throat. “First, if you’ll let me, I’m going to heal you, Lavinia. I know you’ve been injured by the barrier. Next, I’m going to escort you back inside, where we’re going to tell anyone who’s decided you’re collateral damage in Marsyas’s assumed murder of Ursula that you simply left to search for her on the grounds, concerned for her safety and eager to prove her innocence.”
Wren and I exchange a glance. I find it hard to believe Auden Hegemony is helping us out of the goodness of his heart with his grandmother dead and his family stripped of its power. I also doubt it’s because I was such an enchanting dinner guest because literally everything about our “reintroduction” was awkward as hell.
But Auden’s file claims he loves to read, and if there’s anything I’ve learned selling books it’s that most readers like to unravel a mystery. I know I do. Maybe Auden does. Maybe right now that’s enough.
I didn’t want to be here tonight. I don’t want to be here now. I didn’t want to lie. But there’s no way out.
There’s only through.
“Quickly, girls,” Auden prompts. “They’re bickering over whostays with the will, but soon enough more searchers will be out here, and they won’t be as forgiving about the dead man on the drive.”
I look over my shoulder but don’t pivot my body. I need to gauge his expression. To search those very nice blue-brown eyes of his for any sign of malice. But they’re the same as when we first met—bright and alive—and if anything’s changed, it’s the exhaustion ringing them.
I want to trust him. I have no other choice. And I need to make sure Wren and I get out of here in one piece.
“You’ll heal me?” I confirm, finding my voice, as rough and stilted as it is. I don’t even bother with my accent.
“Yes.”
I swallow. “We’ll turn and raise our hands. But my hands need to stay together.”
There’s no way my throbbing, burning right hand can manage anything right now without support.
There’s a pause. “If that’s the case, I must remind you that if you use your magic on me, not only will I rescind my willingness to tell the others you were innocently searching for Marsyas and not trying to escape—you’ll be caught up in Ursula’s spelled prison.”
