Page 33 of The Lies We Conjure
“Oh, if they want to break their ankles, let them, Evander. They’ll learn or they won’t,” Luna says with a dismissive wave before disappearing into the hall, Infinity at her side.
“We have no intention of that,” Sanguine says, “we’ll just be putting our heads together.”
With that, the Cerises file out.
Winter pivots to Lavinia and Kaysa. “I know you didn’t intend to stay—Marsyas never does—but we did set aside a suite in the event that she wanted to spend the night. I’ll lead you there.”
The girls nod, unable to hide their weary surprise. As Winter collects them, she throws a glance over her shoulder, back at us. Her smudged face is as placid as a glass-clear lake, the broken girl she was just minutes ago stuffed down deep where no one will ever excavate her. Her bright blue eyes glow fierce and so much like Ursula’s in that moment that my heart stumbles.
Then, just like our grandmother did so many times in this very room, she gives an order we’re expected to obey. “Neither of you move an inch. We need to talk.”
CHAPTER12
RUBY
Auden’s magic hunkers beneath my skin, nothing like the biting, terrifying chill of Ursula’s binding spell. He’d only touched me for a moment, but the mark of his power is pleasant, and enduring—and I can’t stop grazing my fingertips along the ridge of my repaired knuckles as we follow his cousin to the room that’s been set aside for Marsyas.
Winter leads us down a flight of stairs—not the big winding ones in the foyer, but the kind of hidden corner stairwell found in hotels. From there, we pop out onto the second floor and turn down a hall that takes us in a totally different direction than the way that would lead us to the solarium—I think.
It’s all very confusing, and darkly lit by sconces that do almost nothing to brighten up a hallway hung in more wallpaper that could double as a weighted blanket. The only irregularity is a long bank of windows at one side that might show some sort of green space. It’s hard to make out anything but what looks like the fuzz of landscape in the moonlight.
“All the guests stay on the second floor. The Starwoods are on the other side of the courtyard. The Cerises have a double suite here.” Winter gestures as we pass a pair of doors beneath twin female elk heads. “Your room is at the end of the hall.”
Winter gestures and makes a beeline for a suite settled under a huge roaring mountain lion. I suppose we’ll always know which door is ours. “In the morning, I’ll bring you a selection from my closet upstairs that might fit you both.”
We thank her profusely because this is truly generous, and Winter plasters on the same hostess smile we saw in the garden. It looksout of place on a canvas of her tear-stained makeup. “You’re welcome. Good night.”
She disappears down the next bend of the hall, rather than going back the way we came.
I shut the door and lock it, just as I did when we went to the bathroom earlier. Before I even have the dead bolt in place, Wren twirls into the center of the sitting room, arms wide and flailing.
“Holy shit, can you believe this?! This is insane! I totally thought we were goners back there on the drive when Auden was like, ‘Turn around with your hands up,’ but—”
Now, because I can, I literally clamp my repaired hand over her mouth. She bats at it, but I hold fast, scanning every corner of our suite. The richly appointed sitting room in which we’re standing leads to two bedrooms, each stuffed with a massive bed, marble fireplace, fainting couch, desk, vanity, wardrobe, plus enough mirrors and lavender-stuffed flower vases to guarantee something will be broken by the end of this all—if we survive.
Satisfied, I haul Wren into one of the two en suite bathrooms. Her heels slip on the tile in muted protest as I check both linen closets, the rainwater shower, the massive tub.
Finally, I remove my hand and Wren mutters something about her ruined lipstick. Like it was in such great shape after she vomited her guts out on the drive.
She might have said more, but it doesn’t register—my body is a live wire of worry that someone will overhear us.
I turn on the water—sinks, bath, shower—until it’s roaring. There’s no fan, but honestly, given the look of this place, I should’ve been pleased to have running water. I haven’t spotted a single electrical outlet to go along with the lamps—which I’m beginning to suspect are actual gas lamps, not replicas—and the lack of both Wi-Fi and cell service. Everything about Hegemony Manor is a step back in time. And not in the fake “let them joust” way.
My sister watches me race around. “Is all this necessary?”
“Yes,” I snap.
Wren’s hands fly up. “Whoa, there. I’m on your team.”
I suck in a deep breath. This room smells like they clean the tile with literal lemons. The air burns going down.
I snatch Wren’s wrist to pull her close. I force her to look in my eyes as the words flood out, as furious as the water all around us.
“We’re trapped on an estate with nine witches, and someone—possibly one of those nine witches—was willing to murder an old lady in her own backyard to trigger some magical Easter egg hunt. No one knows where we are. We can’t contact the outside world. We need to be as careful as possible.Thisis me being careful.”
By the time I’m done, spit clings to the corners of my mouth, my nostrils are flaring, and I’m sucking down this fiery, citrusy air hard. To show for it, all I get from my baby sister is a flash of her winning smile and a firm dismissal. “Oh, calm down. Just think of the story we’re going to tell.”
“Are you insane? We’re never going to get out of here to tell anyone.”
