Page 124 of The Lies We Conjure
They’re waking dead witches and using their power.
None of those things is normal, and yet they’ve done all of them at the same time.
A stone of fear drops in my gut. My mouth goes dry. Evander’s secret and the scale of what they can do crash into me at once.
“They have the Death master.”
Evander inhales sharply.
“That’s it, that’s how they can do these things,” I whisper.
Evander gives the slightest of nods but touches a hand to my wrist. A signal to quiet. A signal to watch.
I do.
As Lavinia arrives at Marsyas’s side, the old woman flashes the contents of her hands.
Bones, white as chalk. The box containing Cleopatra’s heart. The vile of Nostradamus’s blood.
The don’t just have the Death master. They haveallthe masters, save one.
“Ursula, my dear,” Marsyas addresses my grandmother’s body, “let’s rid Wren of her relic, shall we?”
“Which one’s Wren?” Lavinia asks, as Marsyas calls my grandmother to her like a fish on a line. Marsyas gestures to the turning, running form of Wren.
Lavinia pins her attention to Ruby, and her sunlight prison. “And what’s this one? Robin? Kestrel? Peregrine?”
“Ruby.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.”
“Not everyone has a vision,” Marsyas tuts, as if she wasn’t named after a flute player who got himself flayed alive by Apollo. “Come help me with dear Wren.”
The final relic—ourrelic—is still cupped in Wren’s hands.
If they can magically coerce Ursula into breaking that spell, they’ll hold all the master relics. All they’ll need is the ring around Evander’s neck and that will be that. The Blackgates will control the Four Lines.
And all we’ve fought for, all every Hegemony before us has fought for, will be over.
Evander’s hand on my wrist tightens. His eyes darken under heavy brows.
He doesn’t have to say anything to give this order, this direction.
Time to make our move.
But before we do, Evander does something I don’t expect.
He removes the chain. Holding the two pendants tight in his grip so they won’t clink, he drapes the necklace over my head in one smooth motion. I gape at him, but he mouths,Misdirection.
The Blackgates will expect Evander to have it. Either by pure educated deduction, or by magical means in manipulating bodies that once were people whosawEvander put the ring on the chain he wears around his neck.
Something gathers in my throat.
This is everything he’s ever wanted. And yet here and now Evander is entrusting me to keep it safe. To keep the Four Lines safe.
I want to hug him, but I can’t. So, with a minuscule nod I slip the ring, key, and chain beneath the collar of my T-shirt.
He drops to a crawl, and I follow him, moving under the window to the double doors. They’re diamond-paned like all the rest, and what I wouldn’t give for some solid wood in this very moment. Still, Evander and I have plenty of practice in conducting wordless conversations on the lacrosse pitch. We know exactly how to create an offensive attack the other side won’t see coming.
