Page 45 of The Lies We Conjure
I check the time: 11:23. “We read until we drop.”
CHAPTER15
RUBY
I wake with a start. Book smell tingling my nose, my hair blotting out most of my vision. My neck aches, and my skin smarts, and it takes a few blinks and a full-on swat at my hair to realize I’m not in our suite.
I’m in the reading room.
I fell asleep doing research.
I peel the side of my face off the delicate, now smudged, page of a book the size of the seat cushions Dad brought to my track meets last year to survive hours in the bleachers, the crick in my neck audibly sighing with a snap as I make my way upright.
The indigo light of lifting dawn ambles in the windows, which I see now have no curtains. Strange because most of these books should not be in direct sunlight. Maybe magic protects them when the brightness goes from this hazy greeting to the white blaze of noon. I’m about to wonder aloud as much to Wren when my eyes adjust.
My sister isn’t asleep at the table, the window seat, the floor.
I push back my chair and realize I’m still barefoot, my strappy heels crammed next to the window seat. Wren’s are there too.
That can’t be good.
Panic rising, I shut the grimoire that served as my pillow, tuck it against my chest, sweep up both pairs of stilettos, hurry down the stairs—
And run straight into Infinity.
I clip their shoulder as I hit the hallway carpet, barreling out of the spiral stair alcove.
But in one smooth motion, time seems to freeze along with my forward momentum. Suspended in place, I can only watch as Infinity tips me back onto an upright axis, before sweeping droplets of sloshing tea away from the front of their shirt and directly back into the mug in their hand.
Then, just as quickly as it froze, time speeds back into motion again. I’m left wobbling on tensed legs, the book pressed against my chest throwing me off-balance even with Infinity’s magical adjustments.
They brace their free palm against my upper arm to keep me from falling a second time.
“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you—”
“Blind corner.” Infinity shrugs, and gestures with their teacup. “Breakfast is laid out in the solarium if you’re interested. You might need some caffeine to get through…” They trail off, tilting their head to read the spine of my colossal tome, “The Migration of the Four Lines. Full offense to the dryness of your chosen reading material, not to your comprehension skills.”
I hug the book closer and laugh. “Yeah.” Then I realize that they must be taking their tea up to the reading room, and I go for a tiny gamble to find out why—research, a hunch, an errand for Luna? It might be good information to know why. “You’ve got your caffeine, are you sure you don’t want to take this riveting educational tome for a spin? I don’t want to hog it.”
“I’ll pass.” They slip a small book out of their pocket and wave it between us. “Sudoku in the reading room with tea is my usual go-to on the morning after the meeting dinner. Today’s going to be a shit show, and so I thought, why mess with the tried and true?”
“Good idea.” A little disappointing as far as sleuthing goes, but understandable. I nod, and move to disentangle myself, because I realize the longer I stand here the larger chance there is that Infinity will start asking real questions about my research. Not to mention I really need to find Wren. I paste on my Blackgate smile. “I’ll leave you to it.”
I make to sweep past when Infinity softly announces, “I don’t think she did it, by the way.”
“Um, what?”
“Your grandmother. I don’t think she murdered Ursula. And before you read that the wrong way, I don’t think you or your sister did it either.”
“You… don’t?”
“No.” They take a sip of tea and lean against the alcove wall, one foot kicked up against the molding, as comfortable as can be while my heart dribbles against my sternum. I need to run to Wren, but as a Blackgate, I have to stay and listen. I swallow and they continue. “I know you haven’t been back here in a decade, and I don’t blame you. But what you need to understand that you might not remember is that Ursula was her own worst nightmare.”
I blink at them. That could mean literally anything. Was Ursula cruel to the other families? Did she pit them against each other? Did she use the master relics to torture them in some way? Or play favorites? Or whatever else people in power do for fun?
I have no idea where to start, so I buy time with something so general I hope they’ll fill in the blank. “You don’t think…”
They purse their lips, dark eyes unwavering under eyebrows that are criminally perfect. “That Ursula did this to herself? It wouldn’t be unheard of.”
